by Erica Vetsch
“Thank you, Mrs. Chapman.” Sophie removed her hat and gave it to the housekeeper. “It was a lovely service.”
“Donnie and I and the girls had a moment of silence when they rang the bells.” She sniffed and touched the corner of her eye with her little finger. Donnie was the gardener, and “the girls” were the laundress and the upstairs maid, who came in daily from the village.
Sophie led Mamie into the drawing room. Everywhere she looked, there were mementos and memories of Rich. His seashell collection, gathered on various holidays to visit his mother’s family on the Devon coast. A cricket ball on the mantel, trophy of his school’s triumph in some match or other. His favorite books, a painting he’d purchased because he had liked the look in the dog’s eyes.
But it was more than possessions. Sophie had worked so hard to keep Rich present for herself and for Mamie while he was deployed, it was as if he were still here. Not a spirit or ghost. Sophie didn’t believe in such things. It was all the memories, the hope of his return, the promises for the future that they had made that still seemed current. As if nothing had changed, and yet everything had.
She was both comforted and cast adrift.
Mamie eased into her favorite chair. “Thank you, Sophie dear.”
“You’re welcome, Mamie, but for what?” Sophie knelt beside the older woman, stroking her hand. Had the day been too much for her?
“For taking care of me. For trying to make all this easier for me, which makes it harder for you. You’ve shouldered all the burdens while Rich has been away, and now that he’s gone, you’re still carrying the load.” She raised her other hand, soft and plump, and caressed Sophie’s cheek. “I know I am not much help. I can’t always remember …” She frowned. “It’s such a relief to know you are in control of all those matters I can’t look after any longer.”
“You’re no trouble at all, Mamie. I love living with you, and I promise, no matter what happens, I will take care of you.” She rose and kissed Mamie’s gray curls. “Have your tea, and don’t worry your head about anything.”
Later, when Mamie was in her room resting, Sophie slipped outside to the back garden. Daisies bobbed in the breeze, butterflies flitted amongst the nigella, and bees bumped and buzzed through the scented stock. Color ran riot on the slope behind the house, and Sophie went to her favorite spot. Surrounded by dahlias and sweet peas, she sank onto the open square of grass, wrapping her arms around her knees and putting her head down.
Lord, why? Why did You have to take him from me? You could have kept him safe, could have healed him from his wounds, but You didn’t. All my plans are in ruins, and You seem very far away. How could this be Your will? This isn’t fair.
Tears wouldn’t fall. Somehow the sorrow was too deep. On this spot, just over three years ago, Rich had taken her into his arms and asked her to marry him.
He could have surrendered his commission and stayed in Oxfordshire, but he hadn’t. Just a little longer, he’d promised. The Royal Marines needed him, his men needed him. When he’d made that promise, he couldn’t have known how long it would be and that he would never return.
Mother had suggested—commanded—that because of the whirlwind nature of their courtship and betrothal, that they wait until Rich returned from his next stretch of duty before they wed. Sophie hadn’t wanted to wait, and neither had Rich, but when the duke, her father, had waded in, they had acquiesced. They had their whole lives ahead to spend together. A few months or even a year wouldn’t matter that much. They would honor her parents by giving in to their request.
How joyful Sophie had been to be loved by Rich, and proud of him in his uniform, proud of his sense of duty and honor. Of course she would wait for him—forever if necessary. Of course she would move to Primrose Cottage and care for Mamie until he fulfilled his duty.
And now it was all ruined. He wouldn’t be walking up the drive one day to claim her as his own. They had put off their happiness for three long years, and now none of their plans would come to fruition.
She had been able to bear the loneliness when she thought there would be a happy ending to it someday, but how would she endure it now?
Everything that she had thought was God’s will had been dumped on its head. All the promises made were fallen to bits. She had no idea what to do next.
The sobs finally came, and that carefully constructed house of whist cards she’d been trying so hard to keep upright blew away on the storm of tears.
INSPIRATIONAL REGENCY ROMANCE WITH A CHRISTMAS TWIST FROM THREE BEST-SELLING AUTHORS
AVAILABLE OCTOBER 2020
CAROLYN MILLER • Heaven and Nature Sing
AMANDA BARRATT • Far as the Curse Is Found
ERICA VETSCH • The Wonders of His Love