While gazing at the brilliant crimson flowers, the realism of the world at war disturbed my peaceful thoughts. The pleasant moment gave way to a terrible sense of woe as I thought about the men dying around the world. Abruptly, the flowers nestled among the greenery transformed into droplets of blood scattered across the field. Clusters of poppies, growing tightly together, became red pools of crimson swaying in the air current. The vision clutched my heart with horror. Instead of lingering to observe the sight any longer, I sprinted toward the cabin to escape the unbearable change in scenery, reminding me of blood and death.
Out of breath and trembling from the eerie portrait of destruction my mind had painted, I knock loudly on the door. Stefan did not answer immediately, but when he did, I pushed my way indoors and slammed it behind me. My back leaned against the frame, struggling to hold back tears.
“For heaven’s sake, Lady Grace, what in the world is the matter?”
“Poppies,” I murmured, thinking it ludicrous I had become so upset at a field of flowers.
“Yes, I’ve noticed they have begun to bloom. Quite pretty actually.”
My eyelids remained shut, trying to erase the visualization.
“Do you not like them?”
“I used to,” I replied, opening my eyes. “As I stood there looking at them, the field turned into blood, reminding me of the war.”
“Oh, I see.” Stefan’s facial expression saddened. He took the basket from my trembling hand. “Come and sit down.”
Without hesitation, I took a chair. Stefan stared at me for some time, no doubt considering my vulnerabilities. Embarrassed, I inhaled a deep breath. “Much better now,” I announced. “Forgive me. I have an overactive imagination.”
“Nothing to forgive,” he replied, taking a seat across from me. “When it rains, all I can see is the mud of the battlefield that I wallowed in for days on end.”
Having arrived at a moment of composure, I looked at Stefan. Dressed casually, with a buttoned shirt this time, he appeared relaxed. A good night’s sleep had seemingly helped to restore his health.
“You look rested.”
“Yes, I am, in fact. Thanks to the aspirin last night. And thank you for a comfortable change of clothing.”
“You are more than welcome. Walking around in a scratchy wool uniform must have brought you discomfort.” After inhaling a breath of air and embracing the calmness of emotions that had returned, I rose to my feet and walked over to the table where he had set down the basket.
“I have some things for you.”
“Fresh bread, no doubt. I can smell it.” He stood next to me. “Thank the cook, will you?”
“Yes, there are boiled eggs, cheese, bread, and preserves.”
“You’re spoiling me.” He grinned.
“Let me spoil you some more.” I pulled out the bottle of whiskey from Benedict’s supply of liquor.
“Good heavens!” he bellowed. “Whiskey?” Stefan grabbed the bottle and read the label. His eyes sparkled. “If you weren’t married, I would kiss you for this generous gift.” He snickered, clutching the alcohol as if he had found water in a desert.
Please do, my thoughts replied, but my mouth remained shut. “I’m sure Benedict wouldn’t mind my sharing it with you.” For some odd reason I had to bring my husband into the conversation to control the circumstances. “Oh, and this too.” My hand reached into my pocket and pulled out the bottle of aspirin. “Here, take this and keep it. Carter is getting more from the chemist today.” Stefan took it in hand.
“Thank you for the generous gifts, Lady Grace.” He set the bottle of whiskey down on the table along with the aspirin. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a decent drink.”
“We mentioned your discomfort to your father this morning at breakfast. I had thought he would supply you with something stronger for the pain but refused.”
“I’m not surprised,” Stefan said. He limped over to the chair and sat down. “He uses other drugs sparingly not wishing me to become dependent.”
“That may be understandable, but I despair seeing you in such discomfort, Lieutenant.”
“Stefan. Please call me Stefan.”
“All right, Stefan,” I replied. Saying his name felt delightful on the tip of my tongue.
“If it’s any consolation, you’ve made me a happy man this morning.” He nodded at the bottle. “Best not tell Father about the spirits. He would disapprove as he is actively involved in the temperance movement.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” I assured him with a grin.
We smiled warmly at each other for a few seconds, and I wondered what he thought of me as a woman. Did he think me attractive? As I pondered the unknown thoughts in his mind, he suddenly changed the subject, drowning my imaginings.
“Have you heard from your husband recently?”
My husband. One minute I cringe at the thought of him dying in a pool of blood like the fields of poppies, and the other I push him out of my mind as if he were nonexistent. When in Stefan’s presence, he does not fill my thoughts. The lieutenant, however, appeared intent on returning them to where they should be, probably sensing my weakness.
“The last letter we received arrived about three weeks ago from France.” The smile on my face faded as I struggled with the irritation the question produced.
“Well, I am sure that he is fine,” Stefan replied. “I’m curious though, you said we received. Does he not write to you and his mother in separate correspondence?”
Surprised he had noticed the combined means of communication, I answered bluntly, “No, the letters are addressed to the two of us.”
“Then he expresses no personal thoughts to you separately?” His eyes narrowed at me in curiosity.
“Such as?”
Stefan didn’t respond directly. Instead, his gaze softened as he surveyed me sitting in the chair next to him.
“Such as how much he loves and misses you,” he calmly remarked.
It took me a moment to gather my thoughts so I fiddled with a wrinkle in my dress to bide time. “My husband, Lieutenant,” I slowly began, “is a man of few words and even fewer when it comes to expressing any personal views in that regard.” My voice sounded terse, confirming my frustration. He shifted uncomfortably in my response and pulled his eyes away from me. Oddly, I felt the need to return to addressing him by rank.
“I’m being rude and prying into matters that are none of my business. My apologies, Lady Grace.”
His demeanor toward me changed as if he, too, realized he needed to rein in our private meeting and keep our sentiments to a minimum. I held captive my thoughts about my marriage far too long except for the moments I fleetingly expressed my unhappiness to Olivia. Having another opportunity to do so, I desperately wanted to declare my sorrow for the attention, passion, and intimacy I failed to receive from Benedict. Unable to stop myself from the emotional drought in which I found myself, words gushed from my mouth as if floodwaters had broken down the cottage door.
“My husband is twenty years my senior. When I married him, our age difference did not concern me. In fact, I gave no thought whatsoever what my life would be like at Stratton Park married to a baron.” Inhaling a breath to curb my threatening tears, I continued. “I’m sure that he loves me, but his ability to express such emotions is lacking. He is a man of restrained passion, you see, except for his books and son.”
When I realized my body trembled as I sat in the chair, I jumped to my feet. My mouth had spewed my marital deficiency to a complete stranger when I should have gagged myself from doing so.
Stefan sat quietly, watching me with regard, then rose to his feet. His hand touched the side of my warm cheek with his fingertips. When he did so, I flinched and grabbed his wrist to prevent him from stroking me further.
“Please don’t,” I whispered. Emotionally weak and confused, I admitted if I allowed Stefan to continue, I would not want him to stop. He relented and dropped his hand to his side.
&n
bsp; “I find it disturbing your husband has neglected you emotionally. If you were my wife...” He halted his words. His blue eyes grew a shade darker.
He had not finished his sentence, which I found unacceptable. I needed to hear his words. “If I were your wife, what would you do?”
Stefan studied me, gazing at my form standing before him. He expressed a heated desire through a mere glance. He didn’t need to answer my question verbally because he had succeeded in exposing his meaning otherwise. Remembering my conversation with Olivia, I realized Stefan Reyer had the power to give me the missing piece in my life. In a strained tone, he spoke.
“You should go.” He stepped around me and opened the door. “Thank you again for the food, drink, and aspirin. I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Lady Grace.” His tense words exposed a struggle.
My eyes averted his to keep myself from relenting to temptation. “You are welcome, Lieutenant.”
A second later, I sprinted down the path toward the manor house as if I were fleeing the fires of hell itself. The red poppies filled my peripheral vision, but I refused to glance to my right or left. Stefan, my husband, and red flowers all threatened to ruin what I thought would be a beautiful day. Instead, they reminded me of death on one hand and unfulfilled passion on the other. To my utter shame, my body ached with need, and I knew my face had turned as crimson red as the flowers in the field.
Chapter Nine
Dolls and Kites
The following day, I wandered around the manor house with a troubled heart. Little conversation had ensued with the lieutenant at yesterday’s evening meal. I was too embarrassed to look at him in the eye and kept my attention on the Smits and Doctor Reyer, who had joined us.
The entire morning, Celia had demanded my attention, which I half-heartedly gave. She wanted to play dolls, and when she handed me the one she owned, I didn’t want to touch it.
“Is that the only doll that you have?”
She grinned as if it were the most prized possession in the world. “Mama gave me this doll,” she remarked with sad eyes. Celia held it up in front of my face. Its legs lifelessly dangled with one shoe missing. A dirty and tattered pink dress clothed the toy. “I named her Marie just like Mama’s name.”
The doll had a beautiful face, but its body was in need of good cleaning and repair.
“Why don’t we take the dress off Marie and give it a good wash and mending. The sleeve is torn.”
She looked at the doll and hugged it closely to her chest. “I don’t know if I want to let her go.” She pouted.
“You want her to look pretty, don’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“I promise to take good care of her, Celia. You can trust me.” When I held out my hand, waiting for her to give me the doll, she stared at it for a few moments. “We’ll mend her dress, wash her face, and she’ll be brand new.” I enticed her further.
“Okay,” she relented, shoving the doll in my direction.
Gently I held it up and smiled at the raggedy plaything. “Hello, Marie. I promise to take good care of you.”
“When can I have her back?”
“In a day or two,” I replied. Naturally, I would have to consult the housekeeper about the task ahead but knew she would do a good job of restoring it for Celia.
“Well, what am I to do in the meantime?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m bored.”
“So I see.” Her juvenile antics reminded me of myself when I was ten. “Well, what else would you like to do?”
“I don’t know,” she grumbled.
“Take a walk?”
Her eyes brightened at my suggestion. “Can we go see Stefan?”
“Stefan?” I balked. “Whatever for?”
“He can make me a kite to fly,” she spewed with exuberance. “He’s really good at kite making.”
“Dearest, I don’t think he has anything to make a kite with, I’m afraid. There is nothing at the cottage.” Truthfully, I wasn’t too keen on seeing him, especially after yesterday.
“Oh, please,” she whined. “Please, please, please.”
She grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly, and I knew if I didn’t relent, Celia would never forgive me.
“All right, if you insist.” I surrendered. “I’ll get Carter to bring around the car.”
“Thank you.” She squealed, throwing her arms around my neck. I had to admit that her exuberance had become contagious. In spite of the embarrassing moments that transpired between Stefan and me the other morning, I would enjoy seeing him again. With Celia in the midst, surely it would control any dangerous urges I might entertain.
“Give me a few minutes to talk to the butler, and we’ll leave.” Celia grinned at me and started to jump up and down, which I had learned was her favorite way of releasing energy.
I found Carter in his small office in the servant’s quarters and gave him a laundry list of things to do.
“Is there something you need?” he asked, rising to his feet. Carter looked a bit surprised I entered his domain, which I rarely did.
“Yes, a few things, actually. First give this doll to the housekeeper, have her wash and repair the dress. Also, the body and face need a good cleaning.”
“For Miss Celia, I take it.” He regarded the old toy with a raised brow.
“Yes, it’s very dear to her, so please take good care. It was a gift from her mother.” I held it out for Carter to take in hand. When he did so, he grimaced, holding it an arm’s length away from his body. I could barely contain my laughter.
“Anything else, my lady?”
“I’ll need the car to take Celia and me to the cottage.” I was about to leave, but then it dawned on me we might have the makings of a kite here at the manor house. “Oh, Carter, what are kites made of?”
“Kites?” He cocked his head over my surprising question.
“Yes, kites. Celia wishes the lieutenant make her a kite to fly, but I have no idea if the cottage provides the necessary components for such a flying thing.”
“Kite flying.” He grinned. “Was one of my favorite pastimes as a boy.”
“Really?”
“If you will give me fifteen minutes, I might be able to give you the items needed for the lieutenant to use for this outdoor endeavor.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Carter.”
“Always at your service, my lady,” he replied with a proud glint in his eye.
A half hour later, Celia and I met Carter in the foyer, carrying a bag of items. “For the lieutenant’s use.” With a confident grin, he named the contents. “Newspaper for the body of the kite, glue, a pair of scissors, a ball of string, and a small strip of lightweight cotton for the tail.” In his hand, he held two thin sticks—one long and one shorter. “Freshly cut from the birch tree in the garden.” He lowered his voice. “Please, not a word to the gardener or he’ll have my hide.”
“You are a dear, Carter,” I said. “Well done.”
“I’m so excited!” Celia squealed.
Florence, having heard the entire ruckus, entered the foyer and approached the three of us with a scowl. “What is going on here?”
Carter looked mortified as if he were in for a vigorous reprimand.
“We are going to visit Celia’s brother so he can build a kite for her,” I calmly announced. “Carter has provided everything we need.”
“Do you think it is wise to be bothering him with such frivolous activities when he needs his rest?”
Her attitude irked me. “I spoke with him yesterday morning, and he appeared far more relaxed and pain-free. Didn’t you notice it last night at dinner?”
“Yesterday morning? What were you doing there by yourself?”
“I delivered the bottle of aspirin, bread, eggs, and cheese, and then promptly left.” My nerves tingled as I defended my actions to my mother-in-law. I knew she would think it improper.
“Well, I don’t see the need for you to be traipsing there on your own when Carter here is ver
y capable of taking anything needed to the lieutenant.”
Her terse tone scolded me in front of the staff and Celia, which I found embarrassing. Supposedly, I deserved the rebuke since I was a married woman. Unable to defend my inappropriate action further, she looked at Carter and barked her order.
“Carter, if the lieutenant needs anything, you should see to it yourself or one of the other staff. Is that understood?”
“Understood, Lady Russell,” he swiftly replied, avoiding eye contact with me.
“Does this mean we can’t go see Stefan?” Celia asked with tears welling in her eyes.
“It certainly does not,” I replied, giving Florence an angry glare. “Celia and I will be visiting so she might have time with her brother. We will all return well before dinner.”
Florence glanced at Celia, who stood sadly before her with puppy dog eyes and a heart about to break into a million pieces. She shot a wary glance at me, holding the bag of kite-making bits and pieces.
“Be back at least an hour before dinner is served,” Florence firmly instructed.
“Of course,” I answered demurely, keeping my anger in check. With my free hand, I took Celia’s and led her outdoors for her afternoon adventure.
Chapter Ten
Laughter is the Best Medicine
With a bag of construction materials, Celia and I arrived at the cottage. Eager to see Stefan, she ran to the door and knocked, adding her voice to announce our arrival.
“Stefan, it’s me, Celia!”
It didn’t take long for him to swing the door open. He looked surprised at our arrival, standing in the doorway in his pants, with a white undershirt and suspenders. Once again, he hadn’t entirely dressed.
“I thought you said you’d be fully clothed by this time of the day.” I eyed him up and down.
Ladies of Disgrace Box Set Page 19