by Bree Wolf
The second the snowball had hit him and he had spun around, his world had changed. Looking into her glowing face, the sweet sound of her laughter echoing to his ears, he had been lost, and as though he had done so countless times before, he had gathered up a handful of snow and followed her to a place where happiness didn’t just lurk somewhere behind the horizon, but where it truly did exist.
“You should come back inside,” Christine’s voice roused him from his musings. “You’re starting to shiver.”
Clearing his throat, William turned around and hastened across the threshold. Steeling his resolve, he looked at her, determined to maintain his distance and not succumb to her charms again.
“Shall we have breakfast?” she asked, the glow in her eyes alluring like the moon reflected in the night sea. “I’m certain your mother has already been seated.” She chuckled. “And as you might remember,” she teased, “she waits for no one.”
Unable to help himself, William laughed before offering her his arm and escorting her to the breakfast parlour. At her touch, a soft shiver caressed his skin even through the many layers of fabric that separated them, and William sighed. This did not bode well!
As predicted, his mother was already sipping her tea, her fragile hands wrapped tightly around the hot cup of steaming liquid.
“How did you sleep, Mother?” William asked as he sat down at the head of the table.
“As expected,” his mother grumbled. “I feel as though the cold is everywhere.” A shiver went over her. But then her face brightened, and she turned to him. “And you, William? How are you today?”
Aware that he could never confide in his mother, let alone anyone else, with regard to his emotional well-being, he decided to answer as simply as he could. “I feel much improved,” he stated. “Well enough to venture a little farther from the manor today.”
His mother’s eyes widened. “You wish to go outside? In this weather?”
Glancing out the window, William found a clear blue sky with soft white clouds dotted here and there. The sun shone brilliantly, its rays reflected in the millions of ice crystals covering the ground. In a word, the sight was breath-taking. “I do indeed,” he said, and once again, a shiver shook his mother’s small frame.
“Do you think that wise, Son?” she asked, eyeing him carefully. “You’ve only just recovered enough to leave your bed.”
William sighed. The last thing he wanted was to upset his mother. However, bending his will to hers when it came to her strange abhorrence for cold weather did not feel right and most importantly would put him in a most foul mood. How had he handled these things in the past five years? He wished he remembered; after all, he couldn’t very well ask her.
“How about a sleigh ride?” Christine suggested, her gentle eyes shifting from mother to son. “It is the perfect opportunity to venture outside but still stay warm, and you will get some fresh air which I’m certain will speed your recovery.”
His mother grumbled something unintelligible before she graciously nodded her head. “I suppose that is a fairly reasonable idea.”
William’s heart soared, and for a moment, he felt like a little boy again. Strange, what losing your memory could do to you. He thought.
Glancing at Christine, he found her smiling at him and gratefully inclined his head to her.
In answer, her smile widened, and she bit her lower lip before turning her attention back to the plate in front of her.
William sighed as his insides danced with joy. A sleigh ride in the snow! Then he stopped, and dread washed over him. Had it been her intention to accompany him? Or did she expect him to go alone?
Taking a deep breath, he met her eyes, forcing his voice to come out even. “Would you like to join me? It would be the perfect opportunity for me to learn more about what I’ve missed in the past five years.”
Smiling, she nodded. “I’d love to.”
His heart almost jumped into his throat, and he forced himself to ignore that rather persistent voice that warned him about what he was getting himself into. William, however, had no attention for it because all he could think about was going for a sleigh ride in the snow with Christine by his side.
***
Bundled up in her warmest winter garments, Catherine stepped outside, her eyes feasting on the beauty before her. Drawing in a deep breath, she cherished the slight tingle that went down her throat and tickled her lungs as the cold air filled her with life. There was nothing like a clear winter’s day spent outdoors!
From around the back, where the stable was located, a sleigh carriage came into view. Drawn by a single horse, its white coat melting into the background, it offered just enough room for two people to sit comfortably, and Catherine bit her lower lip in excitement as she watched William guide the animal to the front stoop.
Pulling up the reins, he smiled at her, and as it came to a halt, he jumped from the sleigh carriage and offered her his hand. “Allow me to assist you,” he said, a deep smile clinging to his face.
Unable to help herself, Catherine looked into his eyes the moment she took his offered arm, which was fortunate indeed because what she saw there knocked the air from her lungs and she almost slipped on the snow-covered stoop.
Lightning-quick, William’s arms came around her, holding her up as she lost her footing.
Pulling in a sharp breath, Catherine slumped against him, her free hand reaching for his strong shoulder, seeking to steady herself. As her heart hammered in her chest, Catherine gasped for air before she swallowed and lifted her head.
Instantly, her heart beat even faster and her palms grew damp. Staring up into her husband’s face, she thought time had stopped for what she saw in his eyes brought back a memory that she held dear like no other.
As his warm, hazel eyes looked into hers, they shone with something akin to…could it be love?
Again, Catherine swallowed. More than anything, she wanted to believe it was true, and yet, she didn’t dare allow herself to hope.
What she couldn’t ignore though was her body’s reaction as it, too, seemed to remember the first time William had looked at her the same way. More than two years ago when they had met in a crowded ballroom. That very night, she had known that she loved him, that she would spent the rest of her life with him.
And she had seen the same desire in his eyes as well. Could it be true? Was he remembering something?
Forcing herself to remain calm, Catherine cleared her throat and tried to regain her footing. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice unsteady as emotions coursed through her.
William, too, seemed flustered as his eyes dropped from hers, and once he’d assured himself that she was no longer in danger of falling, he immediately stepped back. His hand, however, still held on to her arm as he escorted her down the steps and helped her into the sleigh. “It is beautiful weather indeed although somewhat treacherous,” he said, trying hard to make it sound light but failing. Then he walked around the sleigh and climbed in the other side, pulling the thick blanket over both of their legs. His eyes, however, never met hers, and Catherine couldn’t help but smile as she felt herself reminded of the very beginnings of their love.
“Where to?” he asked, slapping the reins, and the horse fell into a slow trot.
Snuggling into the soft cushions, Catherine pulled up the blanket more tightly. “Wherever you wish to go.”
William nodded and turned the sleigh down the slope that led past the small lake that had almost ended his life and beyond to the far pastures south of Harrington Park. Sitting side by side, silence settled over them. Although it was not the kind of silence that Catherine would have described as comfortable, neither did it feel unbearable for they both gazed out at the landscape, lost in their own thoughts.
“Do you find it much changed?” Catherine asked after a while, determined to make use of the time she had with him.
William shrugged, a soft smile curling up his lips as he turned his head from side to side, taking in the sweeping view. �
��Not at all. It looks like it always has.” He turned to her. “I’m not certain how to feel about that.”
“What do you mean?”
Again, he shrugged. “Essentially, my life has been turned upside down. Although many things have remained the same, I feel as though it is merely an illusion. Sometimes I feel as though I could catch up and find my place in this life again, but then I turn a corner and I find myself facing something utterly unfamiliar.”
Catherine sighed, a hint of disappointment encroaching on her heart. “I suppose that must be trying.”
“It is,” he said as he leaned back, resting against the seat cushion as though all strength had left him. “I have a sense of what I ought to do, and yet, I do not feel compelled to do so.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “These sound like the ramblings of a madman.”
Catherine laughed, and her hand reflexively reached for his. “At one time or another, we all feel lost, uncertain who we are or what we ought to do.”
He glanced at her gloved hand, still covering his, and then turned to look at her, the reins lying slack over his legs. “Do you ever feel lost?”
Seeing the earnest expression in his eyes, Catherine took a deep breath. Oh, if she could only speak as herself! “I know what it’s like to hope and fear disappointment,” she said, trying to speak as honestly as she could. “I think we all know that feeling. Nothing is ever certain. True happiness can be lost in the blink of an eye,” a soft smile came to her lips, “but it can also be found lightning-quick.”
Catherine had hoped to lighten his mood a little. His eyes, however, remained serious as he glanced at their hands one more time, then pulled his out from under hers. “Would you say your sister and I were happy?”
Swallowing back tears that tickled the back of her eyes, Catherine nodded. “I would, yes. You were deliriously happy. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
William nodded, his eyes distant. “It is strange to hear you say so when I cannot remember.” He glanced at her, and a hint of regret rested in his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind my speaking honestly. I assure you I have no intention of hurting your sister…or you. I simply…” He shrugged, then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “When I look at her, I feel nothing.”
Catherine held her breath.
“In the few short moments I’ve spent in her company,” he continued, “I’ve seen her to be a kind and caring woman. Her eyes are honest and hold deep thought. She is beautiful, and I imagine her to be even more so if she had a reason to smile. She is the kind of woman I always dreamed of marrying.” He sighed, and Catherine’s heart crumpled as though drained of its life force. “I wish I could remember her,” he said, his voice fervent. “I wish I could feel something when I look at her.”
Uncertain how to reply, Catherine remained silent as her heart hammered in her chest and her emotions tumbled through her body. She didn’t know where to begin. He wished to have feelings for her sister. Of course, he did. She reminded herself. After all, he thought she was his wife, and yet, he didn’t feel anything when he looked at her. Glancing at him, Catherine couldn’t help but wonder if he felt something for her. Had it only been her imagination? The moment they had shared on the stoop when he had caught her in his arms, had it meant something to him? Or did he feel the same way for her as he did for her sister, namely nothing?
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, once more picking up the reins. “I should not have spoken as I did.” He glanced at her before urging the horse onward. “You are most kind to help me trying to remember. Even if I had all the time in the world, I doubt I could find the words to express how unsettling this feeling is.”
“You’re welcome,” Catherine mumbled, too overcome to say more.
“I assure you I will make an effort,” he vowed, his voice determined. “Your sister is a wonderful woman, and I hate to see such sadness in her beautiful eyes. Maybe over supper you could tell me a little more about her, about how we met. Maybe with time and repetition, I will catch a glimpse of her in my memories.”
“Of course,” Catherine whispered as he turned the sleigh around and they headed back toward the manor. Slumped in her seat, she blinked against the sudden onset of tears threating to stream down her cheeks.
Chapter Seven − A Wakeful Night
Staring up at the dark ceiling, Catherine sighed, her hands digging into the blanket as frustration held her in a tight grip. Hours had passed since she had last seen her husband, seated to her left at supper. Hours since she had gone to bed and found herself unable to close her eyes and rest. Midnight had come and gone, and Catherine feared that soon she would glimpse the first rays of the sun through the closed curtains of her chamber.
But it wasn’t even her chamber!
A grunt escaped Catherine’s lips, and she threw herself into the pillows, burying her face in its soft folds.
When she had taken up her sister’s identity, she had also given up her own chamber with her belongings, wonderful memories attached to all of them.
Lifting her head, Catherine gazed into the darkened room. It was a guest bedroom, the one her sister usually stayed in upon her visits. Catherine knew that there was nothing wrong with that room. However, lying in the dark, she could not shake the sense of unease that gripped her heart for this chamber felt empty and cold as though life had abandoned it long ago.
Oh, how she wished she could sleep wrapped in her husband’s arms!
Catherine sighed and closed her eyes, picturing his face. Only now, the face she saw held apprehension most of all. The love that once shone their like the evening star had dimmed, and Catherine feared that soon it would be lost forever.
Was there any hope? After all, he did his best to remember a woman who had never been his wife!
Catherine shook her head. She should never have agreed to her sister’s insane plan. She should have known better. She had known better! And yet, she had agreed for in that moment she had been desperate and her sister’s words had been like a ray of sunshine on a stormy day.
Accepting that sleep would not find her that night, Catherine rose from her bed. She lit the single candle that stood on her night table and pulled on her dressing gown. After slipping into a pair of woollen socks, she picked up the candle and left her room.
Despite the turmoil in her heart, a soft smile played on her lips as Catherine walked down the hallway. Memories of her childhood surfaced, and she found herself suddenly delighted with the thought of an adventure as she ventured through the dark house. Countless times, Christine had roused her from her bed and urged her to follow her out into the night. Countless times, their parents had chided them for their inappropriate behaviour, and yet, a sense of childish delight had beckoned them from their beds again and again.
Coming down the stairs, Catherine glanced at the front door, but quickly shook her head. It was December. She would freeze to death within an hour.
No, going outside was not an option at the moment, and so Catherine turned down the hallway that led to the library.
The doors slid open quietly, and she stepped inside, her eyes immediately drawn to the large window front. Stepping closer, she gazed up at the midnight blue sky, minuscule stars sparkling everywhere, their small lights reflected in the white blanket that still covered the ground.
Somehow the sight was peaceful, and Catherine felt the strain fall from her tense muscles.
Setting the candle down on a side table, she pulled up one of the armchairs facing the large fireplace−sadly but understandably no fire had been lit−and turned it toward the window front. Then she snuggled into its soft cushions and pulled up her legs like she had as a little girl.
Sighing, she leaned back and watched the sky. How long she sat there staring out the window, Catherine could not say for time seemed to lose all meaning as she lost herself in the beauty before her eyes. After a while, it began to snow, and the tiny flakes drifted almost lazily to the ground in a peaceful rhythmic dance. Entranced, Catherine watched them
as though they were performing for her alone, and a quiet smile came to her lips.
Sighing, she blew out the candle and watched their silent dance.
At some point, she had to have dozed off for when she came to, she felt the soft velvet of the cushion beneath her cheek. Sounds drifted to her ears, and she blinked her eyes open. The sky was still dark, and more snow was still raining down onto the ground.
Quiet footsteps reached her ear then, and Catherine sat up just as a soft rolling sound told her that someone had moved the ladder that facilitated access to the upper ends of the many shelves lining the large room.
Drawing in a deep breath, she wondered who could feel the need for a book in the deep of night and be walking the halls of Harrington Park in the dark. Her muscles stiffened as she remembered what had driven her from her bed, and without another thought, she slipped off the chair and turned toward the towering bookcases.
Her heart danced in her chest as she found herself looking at her husband as he stood high on the long ladder, dressed in his dressing gown, a candle in his hand. Peering at the books, he slightly cocked his head to the side, trying to read the titles on the spines.
Holding her breath, Catherine remained quiet, afraid to startle him and make him lose his footing. As her eyes slid over him, she felt strangely exhilarated. Ever since his accident−which had only been a few days ago but felt like a lifetime had passed−she had not been able to look at him beyond furtive glances.
Now unhindered by censure, her eyes swept over him openly, touching the familiar furrow between his eyes as he searched the titles before him, revelling at the strong arms that had held her countless times before travelling down to his large hands that held the candle with delicate fingers.
Biting her lower lip, Catherine drew in a shaky breath as her own body began to ache for the feel of his.
Forcing herself to remember why she could not simply walk over to him and throw herself into his arms, Catherine cleared her throat, trying to bury the stirrings of passion beneath her own resolve to do what was right.