“And so it’s been arranged for you to be posted to a clinic in Somerset, beginning at the end of next week. It shouldn’t try your strength too far. And you’ll be close enough to come home occasionally-”

I stared at him, then interrupted him, not wanting to hear any more. “But-I told Mother that I’m needed in France-” Not to belittle the demands of working in a clinic devoted to convalescents, but it wasn’t why I had trained to be a nurse. As long as the war lasted, I wanted to serve the men fighting and dying in the trenches.

Simon was examining the view, as if trying to memorize it, unwilling to meet my gaze. “You must understand, Bess. They came close to losing you twice. Once on Britannic, when she went down at sea, and again when you nearly died of the Spanish Influenza. And you came close, my dear girl, too close for our comfort.” His voice changed as he said the words, and it was a measure of how I’d frightened those I loved.

“Yes, I understand, of course I do. But if I were a soldier in my father’s regiment-as I could have been if I were his son and not his daughter-he would want me to return to my duty.”

“Third time’s unlucky, Bess. That’s how they see it.”

I bit my lip, then asked quietly, “Because I’m their daughter?”

“Essentially, yes. You’re all they have.”

“Vincent Carson was all that Julia had. He was her husband. No one made any effort to keep him in England.”

“That’s different, Bess, and you know it. I’m sure Julia would have tried, if she could.”

“Is it different, Simon?”

I got up and walked across the lane to stare up at the stonework of the Saxon church tower. Simon followed me after a moment, standing just behind me.

For the first time I could remember, I was furious with my father. And then with my mother for not taking my part in this argument. They had supported me from the beginning when I chose to go into nursing. Reluctantly, yes, but they had understood the call of duty. Why not now?