“Then you are very fortunate.”
“Do you have brothers, Lady Grace?”
“Oh yes, three of them as a matter of fact.”
“Three!” Her eyes widened in astonishment.
“Yes, but I’m not as close to them as you appear to be with Stefan.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” she replied. The sound of the car arriving down the pebbled driveway perked up Celia, and she swung around. As it rolled to a stop, she ran out the door. When Stefan climbed out, she greeted him with a teasing pout of her lip.
“About time,” she chided him. “What took you so long?”
Struggling to exit, Stefan leaned heavily on his cane. His facial expression appeared strained.
“Well, I cannot run here, can I?” He raised his cane and wiggled it. “My broken leg is still mending.”
“Stefan, you need to get better,” she admonished him in a motherly tone.
Celia wrapped her arms around him and gave him a quick hug. Afterward, she grabbed his free hand and helped him toward the door. His eyes lifted toward mine, and he grinned. Even though he pulled one side of his mouth upward, it looked as if he were more in pain than anything else. Still wearing his tattered uniform, I wondered about lending him a few items from Benedict’s closet to get him a change of clothes. He needed something more comfortable.
“Are you all right?” His haggard appearance upset me.
“My leg, I’m afraid, it’s been throbbing.”
As he took a footstep toward me, he limped and halted.
“Well, perhaps your father can give you something for the pain.”
I walked aside and let Celia help Stefan indoors. As I watched him struggle across the tiled floor toward the parlor, my stomach knotted with ill ease at his discomfort. It brought to mind the many other young men who lay in hospital beds not far away who endured greater injuries. They had lost limbs, their sight, and faces to shrapnel, while others suffered the terrible effects of mustard gas. Those dangers faced Benedict daily, and I could barely breathe at the idea of what could happen to him. I realized Stefan’s presence had reminded me of the possibilities, confirming to me had we filled our house with the wounded I would have lost my mind.
“Is my father here?” Stefan had made his way to a parlor chair and quickly lowered himself down into a sitting position. He heaved a weary groan.
“Not yet. Some evenings he doesn’t join us for dinner but stays at the hospital late to work.” Celia sat next to her brother on the divan, continuing to hold his hand, while I took a seat across from them.
“He works far too much,” Stefan replied, shifting in his seat. “He worries about me, but I worry about him employed all sorts of hours under stress.”
“I miss Papa,” Celia remarked. Her smile faded. “Why is he gone so much?”
“He’s helping the wounded, dearest,” I replied. “Many young lads need a surgeon.”
“It’s pleasant here compared to the hospital,” Stefan added, glancing around the room. “All you can do is lie in bed, hope you don’t die, while you hear grown men moan from the pain in the beds next to you.” His eyes watered. “Then there are the poor lads that die regardless of treatment. I thought I had seen enough of death on the battlefield, but it followed me here to England.”
As I listened intently to his comments, I became acutely aware of another type of wound the men endured. Beyond the physical pain remained the haunting horrors of war that followed them home. I didn’t wish Stefan to wallow in the memories of the battlefield or the suffering and death of others. If anything, I ached to hear him laugh so I could enjoy his charming smile.
The parlor suddenly filled with the rest of the household as the Smits and Florence entered the room. Stefan attempted to stand on his feet as a matter of respect, but Hugo put his hand on his shoulder, keeping him in place.
“No need, son, to strain that leg of yours. Your respectful acknowledgment of our arrival has been noted.”
“For goodness’ sake, Lieutenant,” Florence scolded. “Do not rise on my account either.”
“You are all too kind,” Stefan responded, leaning back.
“Hopefully, you find your accommodations comfortable at the cottage,” Florence remarked. “If there is anything you need, just let Carter know, and he will fetch it right away.”
“Yes, quite comfortable.”
“Have you started to read any of the books your father chose?” I asked out of curiosity. He turned his gaze toward me and smirked.
“Ah, yes, the books. I’ve read Moby Dick before but have decided to reread it. Then I’ll delve into Jules Verne and leave Holmes solving murders for last.”
It dawned on me giving him books about death had not been the best of choices. “Well, if you prefer other stories, I’d be happy to take you to the library and let you look for more.”
“Yes, I’d like that. Perhaps later after dinner you can show me. I am curious about your husband’s collection of fiction.”
Naturally, Florence interjected before I could say a word. “Yes, my son is an avid reader and collector of novels. You will discover his interests vary from the scientific to the macabre.”
Stefan’s brow rose over her comment, which indicated to me he would bypass the ghoulish subjects.
Carter arrived and announced dinner. Unfortunately, Martin had not yet come home. Stefan needed pain medication, and I found his absence troublesome.
“I do have some aspirin,” I eagerly offered, “should you wish to take it in the interim.” Without thought about my actions, I reached out and touched his hand leaning on the cane. “It’s troublesome to see you in pain.”
Stefan glanced at my flesh resting on top of his, appearing uncomfortable with my gesture. Perhaps he thought my actions forward because I was a married woman. Pulling my hand away, I clutched in my other as we entered the dining room together. When we sat down, he responded to my inquiry.
“The offer is much appreciated, Lady Grace. If you can spare two after dinner, I will gladly swallow them to take the edge off.”
“Yes, of course.”
As we dined and everyone entered into conversation, Stefan, for the most part, remained quiet. Inwardly I cursed myself for touching him. In the future, I would need to restrain my eagerness.
When he finished the meal, I nodded toward Carter to fetch the medicine.
“Be a dear for me, Carter, and have one of the maids bring a bottle of aspirin for the lieutenant before we leave the table.”
“Certainly, my lady.”
I picked up my wineglass and sipped the remaining portion, listening to Gretta speak regarding their former lives in Belgium. She expressed her worry about her family members who were not able to escape. Purposely we had kept the newspapers for the most part unavailable. They only contained horror stories, which the journalists termed the “rape of Belgium.” The reference conjured up shocking images in the public’s mind. If the war hadn’t been bad enough, the cruelty to other human beings sickened me.
Carter returned and handed me the medicine, which I immediately gave to Stefan.
“Take the bottle with you to the cottage,” I offered.
“I don’t want to take your entire bottle.” He frowned as if he caused us an inconvenience.
“Do you have a headache?” Florence noted our interaction.
“No, ma’am, a leg ache.” He chuckled at his answer.
“It’s probably going to rain,” Hugo said. “Every bone in my body aches when rain is coming, and my knees have been sore of late.”
“Well, that’s an interesting result of my injury. I’ll now be able to predict the weather.” He laughed. Stefan took the bottle, opened it, selected two pills, and then drank them down with water. When he finished, he handed it back to me. “Please, take them. I’ll speak with Father when he returns.”
“If you insist.” Disappointed he didn’t accept the offer, I retook the bottle.
“Morphine is my choice of pain m
edication, but Father is sparse with the drug,” Stefan announced.
“It’s addictive, isn’t it?” Florence queried.
“It can be.” Stefan fidgeted in his chair and then spoke. “That is why he refuses to give me any more.”
Our dinner continued without the arrival of Doctor Reyer. Nevertheless, we all had a cordial chat around the table. After we had finished dining, Stefan spoke.
“Would it be a good time to visit the library?”
Without hesitation, I pushed back my chair and rose. “Absolutely.” He struggled somewhat to rise, and Celia helped him.
“Can I come too?” she asked, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.
Stefan thought about it for a second and then turned toward me. “Do you have any children’s books?”
“Oh dear, I’m afraid not,” I answered. “At least not yet.”
“Celia, why don’t you stay with me,” Florence interjected. “If you’re a good girl, I might be able to persuade Carter to find you a piece of candy.”
“Candy?”
The tempting offer instantly changed her focus. Stefan and I took advantage of the moment and left for the library. As we entered, he halted in the threshold wide-eyed, glancing at the walls lined with books.
“Impressive, I know,” I acknowledged proudly.
“Very,” he said, limping into the center. “Your husband is obviously obsessed with the written word.”
Stefan’s statement caused me to pause and inwardly agree Benedict was obsessed with two loves in his life—reading and Percy. It reminded me I had not been one of his passions. The thought pricked, causing my facial expression to sour. Stefan noticed my change in demeanor.
“I’m sorry if my comment offended you.”
“It didn’t,” I replied. Not wishing to explain the reason, I walked over to one of the shelves. “He organizes the works according to the genre, so feel free to browse at your leisure.”
His index finger ran across the spines of a few volumes, reading the titles. Quietly I watched his actions, admiring his hand that I had touched earlier. The breadth of his knuckles were wider than Benedict’s, and his fingers were proportionate in length. I wanted to hold his hand in mine and feel the warmth of a man’s touch. One thought led to another, and as my heart started to pound in my chest, I abruptly turned away.
“Well, I will leave you to search.” My voice nervously quavered, revealing my discomfort. He glanced at me and frowned.
“Don’t leave.”
His desperate sounding entreaty halted my steps. Perhaps he felt as lonely as I did.
“If you insist, but I don’t think it’s wise to be alone with you in the library for any length of time.” My comment had been a poor one because it suggested an impropriety between the two of us might occur.
“You have little to worry about with me, Lady Grace.” He smirked. “But to ease your worries, I shall take this book, and that is all.” He clutched it in his hand. “If you don’t mind, I would prefer to return to the cottage. The aspirin has helped somewhat, and I want to take advantage of the reprieve and get some sleep.”
“Yes, of course. I’ll have Carter bring the car around.” We walked to the parlor and joined the others sipping their after-dinner drinks. Celia sat on the divan, holding a box of chocolates.
“Did you find something of interest?” Florence asked.
“Yes, I think so. However, if you’ll excuse me, I will be retiring for the evening.”
Hugo rose to his feet. “Good night, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you.” He glanced at Gretta and Florence. “Ladies, I bid you good night.”
“Stefan, don’t go,” Celia whined.
“I’m sorry, little sister, but your brother needs his rest. You want me to get better don’t you?” He grinned at the chocolate on her face and took his thumb to wipe where it had melted on her lips. Bringing the smeared chocolate to his mouth, he licked it off. “Hm, very good. But don’t you go stuffing yourself with candy or Papa will be angry.”
“Okay,” she replied, giving Stefan a hug goodbye.
Obligated as the host, I accompanied him to the door. We halted, and his eyes lingered upon me as if he were studying me closer than he had in the past. For a few seconds, we silently stared at one another, and then he spoke.
“Do you miss him?”
“Who?”
“Your husband, of course.”
Mortified I hadn’t thought about his reference, I lowered my gaze to the floor. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Yes, why wouldn’t you?” he responded, casting a wary look.
“Lieutenant, the car is waiting for you outside, sir,” Carter announced.
Anxious, I opened the door for Stefan to leave, fearing he sensed my discontent.
“Good night, Lady Grace.” He strode toward the car in pain as he leaned against the cane.
Unable to take my eyes off him, I watched until the motorcar had driven out of sight. When it disappeared down the road, my chest felt as if a heavy weight of sorrow had crushed it. My soul craved his companionship, and for the first time in my life, I experienced the seduction of temptation.
Chapter Eight
Fields of Poppies
The following morning, Doctor Reyer joined us for breakfast, having on a rare occasion overslept. Dark circles underneath his eyes exposed his exhaustion, upon which Florence expressed her concern.
“Why don’t you take a day off, Doctor Reyer?” she suggested. “You look utterly drained and unhealthy.”
He took a sip of coffee before responding. “You have absolutely no idea, Lady Russell, of the present need for qualified medical personnel. The hospital is inundated with wounded men that need care.”
“Surely one day will not hurt. Of what use will you be if you fall ill as a result of the strain?” Florence let out a puff of air showing her frustration about his stubbornness.
The conversation upset Celia, who stood up and walked over to her father. “Papa, do as the nice lady says. Don’t die like Mama did and leave us all alone.” Her eyes watered.
“Now, now, young lady, I’m not going to die.” He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed a worrisome tear trickling down his daughter’s cheek. “Soldiers like Stefan need me to help them get well.” After giving her a hug and kiss on her forehead, he nodded toward her empty chair. “Go sit down, Celia, and eat your breakfast.”
“Stefan worries about you too,” I said, adding to the concern. “He has expressed his distress that you are working too much.”
Martin turned his head and sighed. “The children worry needlessly,” he replied indifferently.
Florence and I exchanged a glance. Her miffed countenance displayed her disapproval over Doctor Reyer’s attitude. Once again, I wondered if her interactions with Martin had given rise to fond feelings in his regard. As I pondered the possibility, she suddenly reprimanded him.
“Doctor Reyer, your son needs your care as well. Last night he suffered greatly with pain in his leg, and all we could do was give him two aspirins.” Her cheeks flushed during her scolding discord. “Surely he is your patient as well and needs your tending.”
Hugo confirmed the matter while Gretta nodded in agreement. “Lady Russell is correct, sir. Gretta and I both noted the young man’s grave discomfort last night.”
Seemingly unmoved by the news, Martin dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “My son wants me to give him shots of morphine, which I refuse to do. It will only lead to addiction.” He rose from the table and glanced at everyone as if this were his last word on the subject. “Aspirin is sufficient. The lad needs to brave through the discomfort.”
The cold and seemingly uncaring remark angered me. When I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind, I suddenly clamped it shut when Florence caught my eye, shaking her head negatively.
“If you will excuse me, I have work to do.” Martin threw his napkin down on the table.
Poor Celia’s eyes grew wide as her father storm
ed from the dining room, leaving all in attendance flabbergasted. If it weren’t for Celia sitting at the table with us, I would have raised my voice to complain of his unsympathetic regard toward his son.
“What a shame,” Gretta said in a low voice. “I’ll have to bake the young lad a good apple strudel today.”
“It’s none of our business,” Florence responded. “Stefan is his son, and as his surgeon and father, I’m sure he has his best interest at heart.”
“Well, we better have Carter purchase additional aspirin from the chemist,” I announced. “It’s only fair the lieutenant have some relief for his aching leg.”
“Yes, I think that would be wise,” Florence readily agreed. “But let us not tell Doctor Reyer lest we offend him by interfering.”
After breakfast, I went to the kitchen to have the cook prepare another basket. We filled it with boiled eggs, cheese, and freshly baked bread. I added a jar of strawberry preserves as a sweet treat. As I thought about what else I might bring Stefan, it suddenly dawned on me an occasional shot of whiskey wouldn’t do any harm to take off the edge. Since Benedict had an ample personal supply for his enjoyment, I doubted he would miss one of his unopened bottles.
“Shall I call the car around?” Carter offered.
I didn’t want to be accountable for how much time I spent at the cottage and decided to forgo the transportation. The morning sun radiated across the landscape, and with a basket in hand, a twenty-minute walk would do me good.
“No, I think that I’ll walk, Carter. It’s far too nice of a day, and I wish to take advantage of the sunshine.”
“Very well, my lady,” he responded. Carter thankfully hadn’t thought any less of me for daring to visit the lieutenant alone. After all, as far as he knew, I was merely delivering food and a bottle of aspirin. Naturally, I mentioned nothing about the whiskey I hid in the bottom of the wicker basket.
After a few minutes, the walk had an invigorating influence upon my mind. A winding dirt road led to the cottage, which had a slight uphill slant. Puffy white clouds traveled overhead pushed along by a warm breeze. Wild field poppies dotted the landscape as they started to bloom. They waved back and forth, dancing to the wind. It created such a beautiful scene that I halted for a few moments to enjoy the interspersing of green and red hues. As I surveyed the flowers, I thought of Benedict. He would benefit from the beauty.
Ladies of Disgrace Box Set Page 18