* * *
Stewart bemoaned the loss of his roommate from the previous year. Both had been dedicated to their studies. His second-year roommate enjoyed the social scene. At school, friends were encouraged to visit and congregate. The dormitory hallway was loud with continuous company.
Unable to study because of the noise, Stewart avoided his room, spending his leisure time in the library. He appreciated Natasha’s companionship, only leaving the library when it closed for the evening. Retreating to his room, he found it difficult to sleep or rest with the commotion in the hall outside his room.
* * *
Stewart and Natasha returned to their respective homes for the Christmas holiday. At the castle, their mother hosted functions and balls while Natasha, Marcus, and Joshua greeted guests and engaged in social conversation. But all three disappeared early in the evening. Natasha’s brothers detested the stuffy crowd of dignitaries and aristocrats as much as she did. Their mother pleaded with her grown children to make an effort to enjoy the social gatherings. The twins informed their disappointed mother they had no desire to keep company with her acquaintances. When her brothers went out for an evening, Natasha found herself alone and bored. She returned to her private chambers to read. Unable to concentrate on the words, her thoughts turned to Stewart. Time passed slowly as she yearned to return to the school.
Dear Diary,
I hate this life. I will avoid this fate if at all possible….
* * *
Shortly after the holiday, Stewart’s engineering professor informed the class of an exam scheduled before their spring break. The exam would carry a significant weight on their final grade. Stewart was determined to excel and vowed to begin reviewing his notes. Pleased to assist, Natasha read a section of the textbook and his corresponding notes, and then quizzed him every evening.
“You should transfer to the engineering program,” he teased as they approached the small area where the girls resided. “You are more knowledgeable than my fellow peers.”
Chapter Thirteen
Stewart and Natasha were inseparable during the next term. Her acquaintances approached Natasha wondering if her alliance with Stewart was as platonic as it appeared. Unsure how to respond and unwilling to disclose the nature of the relationship, she merely told them they met in the library on their first day and became study partners.
* * *
Natasha and Stewart strolled slowly hand in hand along the river’s edge. The serenity of the area offered privacy while still allowing them to remain at the perimeter of the university property.
“Do you intend to return home during the break?”
“Nay,” she responded. “I will remain at school.”
Stewart stopped and reached for Natasha’s free hand. “It would please me if you would accompany me to my family’s home. In my letters I have written about a wonderful woman I have met at school. They are overjoyed. My parents would like to make your acquaintance.”
“What of your sister?” She gave him her full attention. “She will remember us swimming together. Your parents will know you have deceived them.”
“Vicki is visiting Momma’s sister and her family. She is not due to return until we are back at school. Please, Natasha,” he begged. The pleading expression on his face broke her heart. “Allow my parents the privilege of your acquaintance.”
Natasha did not respond. Certain their relationship could not last beyond university, she was unable to come up with a reason to decline. She would not be missed at the castle.
“I assure you, you will be comfortable in my family home. My parents will adore you, as I do.”
“I will not be comfortable staying very long,” she warned.
His grin lit his face. “We will board the train early Saturday and return Sunday night,” he promised. “Are you consenting?”
“Yes,” she acknowledged with a small, forced smile.
His entire being lit up. Stewart had never appeared as happy.
Dear Diary,
I agreed to make an acquaintance with his parents. I hope I do not harbour regret….
* * *
Natasha followed Stewart onto the platform and boarded the train, her first time on public transportation. Nervous beyond words, she took a seat beside a window. Stewart joined her. Although he attempted to reassure her about the visit with his parents, Natasha remained sceptical of her decision. She sat, only responding to Stewart when necessary as they travelled along the countryside.
The train whistle blew, a reminder of their stop. Stewart leaned over Natasha, looked out the window and waved at a couple waiting for them. His parents. Natasha’s heart pounded, her nervousness intensifying. She stared straight ahead at the seat in front of her.
The train came to a complete stop. Stewart led Natasha down the narrow aisle. He stepped off the train, turned, and extended his hand to Natasha. While she waited on the platform, he walked to the smiling couple and embraced them. The resemblance between father and son was remarkable.
“Natasha, allow me to introduce you to my parents, Willard and Elizabeth Donovan.”
“It is an honour to make your acquaintance,” Mr. Donovan greeted. He extended his hand.
Still uncomfortable making physical contact with a stranger, Natasha froze.
“Stewart wrote of a reserved, shy nature,” she heard Mrs. Donovan whisper. “She is yet to become comfortable in our company. We must refrain from overwhelming her.”
“It was my hand, not an embrace,” he responded, keeping his voice lowered.
“Love.”
Mr. Donovan took a step back and turned to face his son.
“I now understand why you have only written of one woman in your life.”
Mr. Donovan led the way to the buggy and assisted his wife, leaving Stewart to help Natasha. Once they were settled in their seats, Mr. Donovan tapped the reins. The horses began to trot. Stewart and his parents conversed.
The horses turned onto a narrow driveway. A stately two-storey stone building came into view. A dog charged toward the buggy. Natasha’s body shifted back onto the seat. Once she alighted, the animal greeted her with an affectionate lick to her hand. Mr. Donovan reached for the dog’s collar and led the animal into the house with Stewart following behind with their luggage.
The women followed the men through the front door. The warmth and love in the tastefully decorated home comforted Natasha. Entering the sitting room, Stewart guided Natasha to a sofa that faced the window and joined her there. His parents sat on the second sofa across from them.
Stewart’s parents continued the conversation with their son. His parents were relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company. She soon discovered Stewart inherited more from his father than his appearance, sharing the same dry sense of humour. When asked, Natasha spoke of her older brothers and Nanny. Goldie never moved from her side.
After lunch, the young couple went for a long walk with the dog, returning for hot chocolate and homemade pastries. Although Natasha attempted to assist in the kitchen with the evening meal, it was obvious she was not familiar with culinary processes. Mrs. Donovan made light of the situation and prepared the delicious meal with ease. Once the evening plates were cleared from the dining area they retreated to the sitting room. They talked and laughed while enjoying coffee and sweets. Later, a cribbage board was set up and the game began. The final scores were announced. Embarrassed, Natasha promised to improve and become a worthy opponent. Exhausted from the day, a yawn escaped her mouth.
“Your room is ready,” Mrs. Donovan informed her. “You will be sleeping in Vicki’s quarters.”
Natasha stood. The dog rose to follow her.
“Where does she sleep?” Natasha asked, looking down at Goldie.
“In Vicki’s quarters, on the mat,” Mrs. Donovan stated. “We shall discourage that this evening.”
Stewart walked over to the fireplace, removed an oil lamp from the shelf and lit it. He escorted Natasha up to her room wi
th the dog at their heels. Stopping outside the door, he placed the lamp on the hallway table.
“It pleases me to have you in my home. My parents adore you.”
“You are your father’s son,” she responded, keeping her voice lowered. “Your poppa is witty … and blunt.”
“Yes. Back in my youth, I did not understand wit. Momma had to explain it. Now I laugh with them.” He placed his hands on her shoulders.
“Your momma lectured your poppa in my presence,” she continued. “On more than one occasion since we arrived. Your poppa did not appear upset by this.”
“Nay,” he responded, nonchalantly.
“Mother would never speak out of turn to Father. What your momma did would be inconceivable in my home.”
“Momma speaks her mind, and Poppa listens. It is discussed if he finds it disagreeable.”
Stewart moved his fingers to her cheeks. He leaned forward to kiss her. Stewart. Not in your parents’ home. Natasha stiffened. She shifted her body away from him. Goldie stood up, bared her teeth, and growled at Stewart. Staring at the vicious, aggressive creature, Natasha’s heart pounded. She shrank against the closed bedroom door. Stewart backed up and looked at Goldie’s stance and eyes. She continued to growl. The dog was prepared and willing to pounce. Stewart lowered himself onto his knees and looked into the dog’s eyes.
“Goldie,” he commanded with a stern tone. “Sit.”
Obeying her master, the dog sat and raised her paw.
“You are a good dog,” he continued. “Stay.” He glanced up at Natasha. “The paw is an apology.” Stewart stood and looked into Natasha’s eyes. He replaced his hands back onto her cheeks.
“We are in your parents’ home,” Natasha protested in a whisper.
“Indeed we are. I assure you, they will not see us.”
After a gentle kiss Stewart gripped Goldie’s collar and then opened the door to his sister’s quarters.
Natasha entered a room that was tastefully decorated for a young girl. A four-poster single bed stood in the middle, a large wardrobe dresser with an attached mirror to the right. Beside the window, in the corner of the room, stood a secretary-style writing desk and a small shelving unit that held schoolbooks and novels. The bedsheets were pulled down and clean towels were left on the dresser for her use. Natasha closed the door, changed into her nightclothes, wrote in her diary, and slept like an angel.
* * *
Stewart left Goldie, the designated guard, in the hallway and returned to the main floor to visit his parents.
“We heard the dog,” Willard stated. “I’m not pleased to think she growled at your guest. Goldie requires discipline. I will go deal with her.”
“Nay. The growl occurred when I approached Natasha for a kiss good night.”
“Heaven forbid,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Was Natasha hurt?”
“No,” Stewart assured them. He moved to the sofa and sat. “The aggression was not aimed toward Natasha.”
“It was aimed at you?” she questioned. “As with Vicki, Goldie has faithfully remained by Natasha’s side. Our pet seems inclined to keep a watch over her new acquaintance.”
“I’m not pleased she growled at Stewart,” his poppa remarked. “It’s strange that Goldie is so protective of a stranger.”
“Natasha was unsure of my behaviour, and Goldie reacted accordingly,” Stewart informed them, defending the dog. “I take full responsibility for initiating the aggression. There is no need to discipline Goldie.”
“I must assume you missed your opportunity for a kiss good night,” Willard joked.
With a mischievous smile, Stewart shook his head. “Given the circumstances, I received an appropriate kiss.”
His momma smiled. His poppa winked at him.
* * *
The aroma of brewing coffee and blueberry pancakes drew Natasha out of her sleep. Not accustomed to remaining in bed beyond dawn, her stomach growled.
Stewart and his parents were conversing at the large wooden table when she entered the kitchen. Stewart jumped from his chair to greet her at the doorway. His poppa glared at the dog commanding their pet to remain at the opposite side of the kitchen.
“Stay,” Willard warned.
Stewart led Natasha to a chair at the kitchen table. He walked to the cast iron stove to pour a cup of hot coffee for his guest and to refill his own. After spending the morning together Natasha and Mrs. Donovan were joined by the men for a long stroll around the property. Later in the afternoon, they sat on the sofa in the parlour and looked at sketches and professional portraits of Stewart, Vicki, and the entire family.
“Stewart was handsome, even in his youth,” Natasha said.
Mrs. Donovan smiled. “With his blue eyes, and his mannerisms, he remains a vision of his poppa.”
“I find my heart flutters as he looks at me,” Natasha confessed.
“Trust your heart, Natasha,” she replied with an affectionate smile. “Oh my, I’ve lost track of the hour. I must begin the evening meal. You may stay here and relax if you wish.”
Natasha was still looking at the album when Stewart entered the parlour.
“Your momma was speaking of social gatherings and the young women with whom you became acquainted.”
“She spoke of this?” he queried, joining her.
“I inquired,” she responded. She lowered her voice. “You’re a very handsome man. I’m certain I am not the only woman you have kissed.”
“Natasha Hathaway. I’m appalled. You are indeed the first woman I’ve kissed. You’re the only woman I will ever kiss.”
“With your appearance, charm, and wit, I should assume you’ll have the opportunity to kiss a multitude of women.”
“Enough of this discussion. Back to the pictures. I’m looking forward to viewing your family portraits. I’m certain you were a beautiful child.”
With the reminder of reality, Natasha’s mood turned sombre. “Our portraits are very formal,” she informed him without emotion.
“It would please me to be given the opportunity to view them. You, with your brothers and Nanny.”
She contemplated how to respond.
“The meal is ready,” his momma announced.
Natasha rose and walked to the table.
After the meal, they packed their suitcases and returned to the main floor. Standing by the front door, Natasha rubbed the dog’s back.
“I shall miss you, Goldie.”
She joined his parents in the buggy.
Once at the train station, Stewart embraced his parents before following Natasha onto the train. The conversation was nonstop during the journey back to the school. Once alone in her private chamber, Natasha wrote a long entry.
Dear Diary,
I am so envious….
Chapter Fourteen
With her first year of university completed, Natasha was eager to return to the orphanage. On their first day back with the children, she noticed Stewart pushing three children on the swings. Her heart twisted at the sight. A tearful sigh escaped her lips. Someday, Stewart would meet his future wife and begin a life with the fortunate woman. Then Natasha would be left to endure a meaningless existence without him.
Unable to look away from the poignant scene, despair became a physical pain in her chest. She would be forced to marry a man whom she did not love and live her life as he saw fit. She fought back a sob. There could be no joy in such an arrangement. She raised her head and stood with pride. She was not married off yet. She still had today and this time with Stewart. With a few deep breaths, she joined him by the swings.
Each afternoon, they parted with long romantic kisses. Evenings at the castle were spent alone in privacy of her room when her brothers were out. Nanny arrived to visit on Friday or Saturday evening. Natasha spoke enthusiastically about the orphanage, careful not to mention Stewart’s name. She admitted she would miss the children, but looked forward to returning to school.
* * *
Ten weeks into the school y
ear, Natasha joined Stewart at a table in the library. He worked on an assignment. She composed a long letter to her parents. With the letter completed, she passed it to Stewart to read.
“You only plan to return for four days?” he asked, handing the letter back to her. “The holidays are a time for family, Natasha. Do you not enjoy getting reacquainted with your cousins?”
Natasha’s eyes shifted to the table as she recalled the previous year. Courtiers vying for her brothers’ affection, in hopes of securing a position in the royal court. Earls and dukes and other men of royal importance discussing their hopes of betrothing their children to her future offspring. She found the scenario revolting.
“My family becomes inundated with acquaintances, co-workers, and associates of my father,” she responded, her tone cold. “Mother and Father thrive in that company, yet my brothers and I detest it.”
“Perhaps it is time I—”
“Christmas is not an appropriate time to meet my family,” she informed him.
“Then agree to join my family for the holiday.”
Nothing would please her more, but his sister would be home. Natasha could not risk the notion that Vicki would recall their day at the river. His young sister would inform her parents. Mr. and Mrs. Donovan would insist upon meeting Natasha’s parents. Her mind raced, searching for an acceptable excuse.
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