Then he darted forward to kiss her firmly before he let her go.

He turned his upper body so he could see Hannah more directly, and he gave her a grim smile.

Hannah said, “The worst is over.”

“Good,” Luke said, and turned onto his stomach again.

Hannah said, “I need some water, Jennet, if you would.”

“Of course.” She took the ewer and paused at the door. “Would you care for tea?” Her tone had turned conciliatory, and a bit shy.

“I’d prefer whisky, but tea will do,” Luke said.

“Well, then,” Jennet said. “I’ll see to it.” And she closed the door after herself quietly.

After a moment Hannah said, “She’s been coping with a lot, Luke. She’s terrified at the idea of you going back into battle.”

He gave a soft grunt. “It’s not so easy for me, either. For all I know she’ll go out and find another infant to adopt while I’m gone.”

Hannah paused. She hadn’t been in the room when Jennet told Luke about Jacinthe and the child, and this was the first mention he made of it to her.

“You don’t want the boy?”

He jerked impatiently. “I didn’t say that.”

“But?”

“I’m uneasy about it.”

Hannah sat down next to him on a low stool so she could look him in the face. “Why?”

“Because,” Luke said, “I intend to kill the boy’s father just as soon as I can track him down.”

Hannah kept losing sight of the fact that it was Christmas Eve, but Clémentine did not. There was a goose for dinner, and potatoes and peppered turnips mashed with cream, and greens cooked with bacon and onions, and bread warm from the oven.

She found she had an appetite. They all did, crowded around the Savards’ table. Everyone was here but Ben, who had gone back to his company after seeing Hannah to the clinic.

“He didn’t like to go,” Rachel said, looking directly at Hannah. “He had no choice.”

Hannah tried to look as if this news were of no particular importance to her. She was not so sure of Ben Savard or her own feelings and loath to have the subject raised, even in the company of such good friends and family.

“I could come with you next time,” young Henry was saying. “I would be a great help in the field hospital.”

“Of course you would,” said Hannah, and: “Of course you cannot,” said Henry’s mother and father in unison.

“I don’t understand what went wrong,” Rachel said. “The British seemed so formidable.”

“They are formidable,” said her stepfather. “But they also suffered from the sin of hubris.”

Henry’s face contorted as he tried to make sense of the word. “Do you mean they’re too big for their britches?”

“Yes,” said Paul Savard. “That’s exactly what I mean. They underestimated an enemy, which is the height of foolishness. I only hope they go on as they started.”

“That would serve us well,” Luke agreed. “But they’re waiting for a new commanding officer.”

“Let’s hope he’s no more competent than the one he’s replacing,” said Rachel.

“Do you know who it is?” asked Julia.

Luke paused, and then he answered. “The information that we have from the prisoners of war isn’t reliable.”

“And?” said Paul Savard. “What name have they given?”

“Pakenham,” Luke said.

Hannah saw Dr. Savard’s surprise give way to disquiet. “Wellington’s brother-in-law? Salamanca?”

“Yes,” said Luke. Now everyone was paying attention, looking from Paul to Luke and back again, waiting for some explanation. After a moment’s hesitation Luke said, “Most of the regulars and the dragoons are still at de la Ronde’s to keep an eye on the enemy.”

That was little comfort, but it seemed enough to soothe Rachel, who went back to her food with a sigh.

Her stepfather exchanged a long look with Luke. “Well, then,” he said. “I expect there’s no joy in the British camp today, after such a pitiful showing as they provided last night.”

Hannah caught Luke’s eye, and wasn’t much comforted by the doubt she saw there.

The weather was fine, and so after dinner they went for a walk, Hannah and Jennet and Luke. Rachel and Henry joined them, the boy hopping like a flea in his excitement, ever hopeful for more news of last night’s battle, now that his mother wasn’t there to interfere. They left Adam with Julia and Paul, who intended a quiet afternoon of reading between visits to the clinic, and took Nathaniel, who sat tucked into the crook of his father’s arm, surveying the world like a small emperor wrapped in shawls, his cheeks pink with cold.

Jennet was glad to be out-of-doors, glad of the sun and the clear cool air and the fact that they were together and healthy. For the moment, at least, she could pretend there was no war and nothing wrong in the world.

She thought of the letter she had been writing to her mother and brother, and resolved to add more to it this evening: the good news there was to share, and what it was like to be in New Orleans on Christmas Eve less than twenty-four hours since Jackson had led them to victory in their first battle with the British.

The street vendors were out in full force among the crowds, selling pralines and gingerbread and cake, pickled peppers and eggs. An elderly man with no teeth at all fed the fire beneath a great pot of simmering punch, while a younger man with eyes the exact same shade of green filled a tin cup which could be emptied for a coin.