Red, Red Rose

by Marjorie Farrell

  “ ‘When I was a child,’ ” he repeated, “ ‘I thought as a child.’ ” He hesitated and then continued. “I saw you as the victim and my father as the villain. ‘But now I am a man….’ ”

  It all unfolded in an instant. He saw his whole life and how all was connected. Had his mother not refused his father, then Charlie would never have been born. What kind of life would he have had without Charlie? One thing depended upon another: Charlie led him to school, which brought him to the army, and all, all of his whole life had brought him to Elspeth. To love.

  “ ‘And now we see face to face,’ ” he whispered. He understood, then, how pride and shame had always distorted the image in his mirror. He had seen a man unworthy of love, unable to inspire love. And afraid to receive love, lest he lose it again.

  His mother’s image was shifting, changing from second to second from her beloved form to all the colors of the spectrum and back to herself again. Whatever had pulled him to her and toward the Light was letting go and as he watched, she shimmered rainbow-like one more time and then all was clear Light and she only a small spark of it. And then he fell back into darkness.

  * * * *

  The crisis came just before dawn. Elspeth watched each labored breath and wondered that Val’s skin did not catch fire, for it was so dry and hot. She held his hand and murmured over and over, “I love you, Val, I love you,” as though her litany might reach him, wherever he was, and bring him back.

  Suddenly she realized that the hand she held had become moist and she lifted her eyes to her husband’s face. “Charles!”

  The earl raised his head.

  “I think the fever may have finally broken.” Elspeth reached out a shaking hand to feel Val’s forehead. It was still hot, but it was also moist with sweat.

  “Pull up another blanket, Elspeth,” said her father-in-law, and they piled the covers on and watched as what seemed like a miracle occurred. Val’s breathing became less ragged and his pulse, which had been faint, began to beat more steadily.

  Elspeth and the earl looked at each other and smiled. Charles could not trust himself and, standing up and muttering, “I’ll send for the doctor,” left Elspeth alone with her husband. Leaning down, she pressed her lips to his forehead. “Welcome back, my dearest.”

  * * * *

  The first few days of his recovery, Val slept most of the time, opening his eyes only for a few moments. He would see either Elspeth or his father watching over him. He wanted to speak with them, but didn’t even have the strength to smile.

  Then he began to be awake for longer periods of time. He couldn’t feed himself, but at least he was aware when he was being spoon-fed water or gruel. At first he whispered a thank you to either Elspeth or his father, but by the end of the week he actually had the strength to push the spoon away and whisper a request for “something with more taste, please.”

  Elspeth’s eyes stung with tears of joy when he made his first complaint. “The doctor wants you to continue with this for another day or so. When you gain some strength, you can have some beef tea,” she explained.

  “I don’t see how I can gain any strength on this pap,” he complained, trying to pull himself up into a half-sitting position.

  “Lie still, Val, and I’ll see if I can get the doctor to change his mind,” Elspeth promised.

  After a week during which he felt like a weak kitten, Val felt his physical energy begin to return. By the end of a fortnight, he was able to sit up in a chair and take a few steps about the room, leaning on a footman’s arm. His wound healed rapidly and whenever the doctor came to check on him, he would smile and shake his head and say, “It is amazing the powers of recuperation a young man has, Lieutenant. Of course, you have gotten the best of care.”

  Val knew that. He would have had to be blind not to see the concern and affection on Elspeth’s and his father’s faces. But although his body was gaining strength, he felt in some sort of emotional limbo. He had not fully returned from where he had been.

  * * * *

  One morning, almost three weeks after he had been shot, he was sitting in the small garden on the side of the house. It was a sunny day made delightful by a gentle breeze that carried the scent of roses. One side of the yard had been given over to rosebushes, Val realized, and he got up and walked slowly over to appreciate the perfume and the profusion of crimson flowers.

  “They were your mother’s favorite,” said his father’s voice behind him. Val started, having been so absorbed in the sight and scent that he hadn’t heard anyone come out.

  “Yes, I remember. I still have one pressed in the old Bible she gave me,” he confessed.

  “I was so angry she had sent me away that I ripped the one she gave me to shreds,” admitted his father with a rueful smile.

  Val walked back to the garden bench and sat down. His father sat next to him and, looking down at the worn path and pushing the green velvet moss that grew between the bricks with the toe of his boot, said quietly, “I did ask her to marry me, you know.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “I don’t believe you ever gave me the chance, Valentine,” his father said dryly as he looked up and smiled at his son.

  “I suppose not,” Val admitted.

  “Perhaps I should have made her marry me,” continued the earl. “But she was a strong, stubborn woman. You remind me of her, Valentine,” he said with another smile.

  “Did you never want to see her…or me…?”

  “Always. But she made me promise to stay away. She did not want to take anything away from Helen or any children we might have.” The earl was silent for a moment. “When she died…well, by that time Charlie had been born and his mother and I had a good marriage. I thought that Sarah’s sister would take good care of you, so it seemed better just to continue sending money. Had I known about George Burton, Val, I assure you—

  “It is all right, sir.” And it was, Val realized. Whether his mother or father had been right or wrong in their decisions, what was done was done. He had had a hard life, it was true, but he had known many men who had had much harder.

  The earl reached into his waistcoat pocket and drew out Charlie’s ring. He turned and faced Val and said, his voice trembling, “I want you to have this, Valentine. Charlie would have wanted you to have it. I may not be able to give my son Faringdon or the title, but I can give him this. Please take it.”

  Val hesitated and then, taking the ring, slipped it onto his right hand. “Thank you…Father,” he said awkwardly.

  The two men sat there quietly, watching the summer breeze toss the roses and lift the fallen petals into tiny crimson maelstroms. There would be another time to say more of what was in their hearts, but for now it was enough to sit and take in the sun, the roses, and the silent presence of the woman they had both loved.

  * * * *

  That night after a quiet supper, Val followed Elspeth up the stairs, and as she started to open the door to her room he placed his hand on hers.

  “I had my things moved to your room, Elspeth,” he said quietly. “I will join you there in a few minutes?” Elspeth heard the question in her husband’s voice and, blushing slightly, nodded her head yes.

  She was sitting on the edge of the bed in her night rail when Val came in.

  “I have missed being with my wife,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “I can’t promise that we will do anything but sleep, though,” he added with a smile. He sat down on the bed beside her and gently undid her hair.

  “But I just got finished braiding it, Val,” she said in halfhearted protest.

  “I love your hair down, Elspeth,” he told her, combing it out with his fingers. He lifted the covers with one hand and pulled her under. They lay there, spooned together, and although Val felt himself becoming aroused, he had no strong need to act on it. They lay still until both fell asleep.

  They slept late and when Val opened his eyes, the sun was pouring through a gap in the drapes. He buried
his face between Elspeth’s neck and shoulders and nuzzled her awake.

  “Oh, Val,” she whispered as she turned to face him, “I was so worried I was going to lose you.”

  Val kissed her gently on the forehead.

  “I don’t think I could have left you behind, Elspeth. I love you too much.”

  “And I, you, Val.”

  “I know that, Elspeth, at long last.” He was quiet for a moment and then said hesitantly, “When I was so ill…. I thought I had died….”

  “You almost did, Val.”

  “I saw my mother. It was as if she had been waiting for me. She didn’t really speak, but somehow I understood what she wanted to tell me. I can’t explain it,” he said helplessly. “But I realized love is always there, connecting all of us. We only have to let it in.” He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, Elspeth could see the sheen of tears. “I always thought love was about loving, Elspeth, but now I know it is also about being loved. You helped me learn that, my dearest love.”

  Elspeth reached out and traced his cheek with her finger. As she began to press gentle and then harder kisses on his mouth, he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her against him.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t be doing this yet,” worried Elspeth. “You are still weak.”

  “Not that weak,” Val reassured her, guiding her hand down to feel his arousal. He started to roll over, but she pressed him back. “No, Val, truly, you shouldn’t,” she sighed.

  “Perhaps if you help,” he suggested with a shy smile.

  Elspeth sat up and drew her gown over her head while Val lay there, watching. She placed her hand on his chest and gently fingered the newly healed wound. “Are you sure, Val?”

  When he nodded and clasped her waist with his hands, she relaxed and, smiling mischievously as she straddled him, said, “You will just have to lie there and let me see what I can do.”

  At first she only kissed him gently on the mouth, but then, with a soft moan, she slid down and nuzzled under his arms. “I love the way you smell,” she whispered as she moved a little and then lazily circled his nipples with her tongue. At the same time she was moving rhythmically against him and he groaned.

  “Am I hurting you?” she asked, beginning to lift her weight off him.

  “Not in the way you think,” he muttered as he pulled her back. He could feel her moist against him and thought he might die of the pleasure. Letting go of her waist, he found her with his fingers and she gave a little gasp.

  “I don’t know how long I can wait, Elspeth,” he whispered.

  She lifted herself off him and, cupping him in her hand, guided him into her. She held still for a moment, enjoying his fullness, and then started moving again, slowly at first and then faster and faster as he lifted his hips to meet her. Just as he felt himself about to explode, he sought her out again and she threw her head back as he drew her up and up and then brought her down to him. She collapsed with little sobs and cries as they reached their climax together.

  Val lay there, stroking her hair and murmuring little nothings into her ear. She was such a strong woman, his Elspeth, and yet she had let him into that secret place where she was most vulnerable and most herself. And he had let himself lie there and lose the hard-won control he had exercised all his life. She had made love to him the way he would a woman and he had felt ecstasy in letting himself receive her love as well as give to her. Her passion had opened every door he had ever closed behind him, until she reached his very soul.

  “Oh, God, I do love you,” he whispered.

  Elspeth lifted her head. He was looking straight into her eyes and there was nothing hidden, nothing held back. “I never dreamed I would ever have this, my love,” she murmured. Then Elspeth slipped off him and fit herself against his back and put her arm around his waist. He clasped her hand in front of him as they fell asleep.

  Chapter 39

  Val had put all thought of Stanton and James out of his head as he recovered, but a few mornings later, he looked up from his breakfast and addressed his father.

  “Has there been anything in the paper about Stanton? Or James?”

  “Evidently Whitehall thought it best to put it about that Stanton had been shot in some dispute over cards,” the earl told him with an ironic smile. “If they had revealed what happened, it would have caused a monumental scandal, which is exactly what they have been trying to avoid.”

  “And James?”

  “His name has never been connected with it at all.”

  “Thank God,” said Elspeth.

  “I have heard, however, that now that Lady Madeline has received a proposal, he has decided to resign his commission and make an extended visit to Italy. His decision has raised some eyebrows, but people only think of it as vaguely unpatriotic of him, while there is a war on. On the other hand, he is the head of his family, so it is better he not risk his life….” The earl’s tone so accurately mimicked the gossips that Val had to smile.

  “Do you think I did the right thing, Charles?” Despite the moment in the garden, Val did not feel comfortable addressing the earl as his father. They were grown men, and for now, his father’s name came to his lips more readily. The earl did not mind, for Val referred to him in conversation as his father and their friendship was growing stronger by the day.

  “I do not think ruining James or his family would have served any good purpose, Val.”

  “He called many times when you were ill, Val, and Maddie tells me he leaves in two days’ time,” Elspeth told him. She would never judge him, but he could tell from the look in her eyes that she wished he could see his way to saying farewell to one of his oldest friends. He knew she was right, but he wasn’t sure he could do it.

  * * * *

  James’s revelation had become all mixed up with the events at Whitehall, and the pain of discovering his friend’s treachery had become almost indistinguishable from the pain caused by Lucas’s pistol shot. He had had no time to take in what James had told him, and when he tried to remember their conversation, he only remembered how foolish and embarrassed and, yes, somewhat disgusted he had felt.

  His father and Elspeth had taken themselves off for a walk in the park, something that had become a daily ritual, and Val sat at the breakfast table over a cold cup of tea.

  If he didn’t call on James today, he would most likely not see him again for years.

  Their talk a month ago had been stiff and cold. But he had felt so damned uncomfortable. How could he have given James any gesture of affection, now that he knew what James was?

  And who is that, Val? he asked himself. What exactly has changed about James? He is still intelligent and charming and warm. A man who takes responsibility seriously. Look at how hard he has worked to bring his family back from ruin.

  Only to place his family in far greater jeopardy, Val reminded himself. James had been an excellent soldier and a trusted officer, damn it, and he had betrayed a great trust. Yet he had been placed on the horns of an unresolvable dilemma, Val had to admit. Pay off Lucas Stanton or see the family he had rescued disgraced in a far more lasting way. The damage done to Lady Madeline, had her brother been revealed as a catamite, would have been irreparable.

  Maybe what was holding him back was that he himself felt betrayed. Why hadn’t James trusted him enough to tell him? Even Charlie knew. For God’s sake, James, what did you think I would do, turn my back on you?

  He hadn’t turned his back, had he? He had been surprised, that was all. And scared, he had to admit that. For if James was what he was, then what did he feel for Val? Or Val for him?

  Val sat there agonizing, and then the answer came to him: James felt the same affection that Val felt for any of his friends, of course. James loved Val, just as James had loved Charlie. Just as Val loved James. Why should that be any different now?

  He remembered their walks over the moors at school, and how James had helped him with Latin. There had never been a hint of desire in any of the
ir interactions, then or now. If any had existed, well, James had hidden it well, thought Val with an ironic grin.

  He pushed his chair back from the table and called for his shako. He was going to say good-bye to his friend.

  * * * *

  When Val arrived at the Lambert town house he was told James was out but expected back shortly. The butler showed Val into the morning room, where he paced nervously until he heard the door open and turned to see James standing in the doorway.

  “Val,” James said quietly and, closing the door behind him, started over with his hand outstretched. He stopped midway and gestured instead toward the sofa. “Sit down, Val. You look thin, but aside from that, completely recovered, I hope?”

  “I am finally feeling myself again, although I am not quite ready for one of Colquhoun Grant’s assignments. It will take another few weeks for that.”

  “So you will be returning to Spain? I thought you might consider selling out, after your father’s recognition.”

  “Elspeth and I are agreed, we have been in the army too long to give it up now. After the war is over…well, then it may be different. My father has an estate in Yorkshire that he has turned over to me and that would give us something to return for. I haven’t had a home except the army for many years,” Val said quietly.

  Both men sat uncomfortably silent for a few minutes and then Val finally spoke. “Elspeth and my father tell me that you visited almost every day when I was ill, James. I am very grateful, but I wonder why you have not come by since my recovery.”

  “I did not think you would want to receive me,” James said simply.

  “I may not have been able to, James, although I am sorry to admit it.”

  James gave Val one quick painful glance and then looked down as he said, “I don’t blame you, Val. If I hadn’t given in to Stanton’s blackmail, you wouldn’t have been at the point of death. You were very lucky, my friend, from what I’ve heard,” he added, his voice tight with emotion.