A Soldier's Heart

by Sherrill Bodine

When she arrived back in London to prepare for Cecily’s Season, the seemingly endless trips to the modistes and milliners on Bond Street kept her occupied, but always her thoughts were with Blackwood. This time last year she had first looked up into those mesmerizing dark eyes and lost her heart.

  News of Napoleon’s abdication on April 6 must have flown across the Channel, as Cecily phrased it. There was much rejoicing in London. The duke insisted on coming down for a celebratory dinner, for surely his son would be returning forthwith.

  A toast to His Majesty, poor sick man, and the Regent, was quickly followed by a tribute to Matthew. Cecily squeezed her fingers under the table and shot her a wide, dimpled smile. Serena knew what was utmost in her mind: Kendall would be home during her Season, and she would have her opportunity to snare him.

  Uppermost in Serena’s thoughts was the anticipation of seeing Blackwood and again recapturing the dizzy emotions of their wedding night, which had ever haunted her dreams.

  Her euphoria continued gaining strength as word of the Treaty of Fountainbleu reached London and men were rumored to be already returning. This Season’s frivolities surpassed all that had gone before. The ton was prepared to celebrate victory without end.

  One afternoon at tea she and Cecily regaled the duchess with the newest hearsay concerning troop movements and talked of nothing but Kendall and Blackwood’s triumphal return. Her Grace was smiling indulgently at Cecily’s dramatic protestations that she intended to honor Kendall as a hero of the nation all her life when Longford suddenly burst through the door.

  Serena took one look at his set face and knew something was very wrong.

  “Richard, what a pleasant surprise.” The duchess gracefully lifted her hand for his kiss. “I shall have another cup brought immediately.”

  “No, Mother, I fear I need something stronger!” He sprawled in a chair next to his sister. “This came through with the dispatches, and since I was visiting a friend at the War Office, I said I would deliver it myself.”

  Since the large packet was directed to Her Grace, the Duchess of Avalon, she opened it. Inside were several sheets of paper folded over with their names on them. The duchess handed two to Cecily.

  She instantly opened both. “One’s from Matt wishing me a successful Season and bidding me not to break too many hearts. The other is from Lord Kendall.” Her voice was full of breathless excitement as her eyes scanned the page. “He sends his regards and regrets he cannot be in attendance for my come-out ball but asks for the first waltz upon his return.” She clutched the sheet tightly to her breasts with such an enraptured expression on her lovely face, even her cynical brother’s long mouth curved in something other than his usual sneer.

  “What does Matt say in your letter, Mother?” Longford asked carefully. Serena experienced the strongest feeling he was waiting for something.

  “He sends us his love and his hopes for his father’s improved health.” Her smile didn’t quite reach the dark eyes she had bequeathed to all her children. “We have the best for last. Serena, there are several sheets addressed to you.”

  Almost reluctantly, Serena unfolded her letter. She didn’t get beyond the first few lines. Cold disappointment froze her until she forced herself to blink away the ache behind her eyes.

  She looked straight at Longford. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  “I guessed, knowing my brother.” He shrugged.

  “What? What is it!” Cecily demanded, jumping to her feet, the precious note from Kendall still clasped to her bosom.

  “Blackwood is not returning. Fourteen thousand men are to go to the colonies, and he feels honorbound to go with his regiment. Kendall goes also.”

  Cecily fell back into the chair, her eyes filling with tears.

  Needing to be alone, Serena rose and sent a fleeting smile in Her Grace’s direction. “Please, excuse me.” It came out a broken whisper and she fled the room before she lost her composure entirely.

  The conservatory was a refuge—the chrysanthemum plant sat in its place of honor: green and alive, but dormant. Dropping down beside it, she spread the sheets across her lap and forced herself to reread the hated words.

  Dearest Serena, after your last letter which was so heartfelt, I hesitate to write these words, but must. Now that we have vanquished Bonaparte we must attend the war in America, which has been hampered by a deficit of experienced men. My regiment volunteered to a man. I must be with them. Sweetheart, understand it is my duty to accompany my men to Chesapeake Bay. With these veterans of the Peninsula we shall rout the colonists in short order. Sergeant Major Higgens was retiring, for you must know he’s much older than most, but he, too, stays on to lend his help to our cause. I cannot desert my men before our task is done. Most of Kendall’s regiment also goes. Dearest Serena, understand I do what I must, but know full well I feel as you do and ache to be reunited. In your words I sense some changes in you, but I carry the perfect image of you in my heart and I cling to it. Tend carefully the symbol of our true love as I do each day we are parted.

  Blackwood

  He wasn’t coming home! His love of duty obviously was more important than any feelings he had for her. While her regard for him had deepened, being surrounded by his things and the people who loved him most, had she become nothing more than a pleasant memory? Refusing to give in to such thoughts, she shut her eyes, reliving each of their meetings in her mind.

  She only lifted her lids when she heard Cecily’s whisper and felt her kneel beside her. She looked into the tear-streaked little face.

  “Serena, they aren’t coming. What if they never return?” Cecily asked with a sharp catch in her voice.

  “Of course they shall return.” From where came the even tone? “Blackwood says they shall rout the colonists in short order.”

  “Serena, my friend Mary Featherstone’s brother, Sir Giles, never returned from the Peninsula. And there have been others.” Her voice dropped to the merest whisper, her eyes filling her white face. “It could happen to Matt or Kendall.”

  “Cecily, I forbid you to speak so!” Serena retorted in stronger tones. No matter she ached inside as if a hole had been ripped through her. No one would ever see the despair she felt. She rose, pulling Cecily to her feet. “Both Blackwood and Kendall will return victorious, I have no doubts. Nor should you.”

  Cecily held on to her hands so tightly, they hurt, but Serena didn’t pull away. “Serena, what shall we do?”

  “Do?” She forced a laugh and was pleased to discover it sounded real. “Why, enjoy your Season, of course. They would both wish us to do so, and I fully intend to.”

  Those moments alone with the late afternoon sun bathing the conservatory in golden light forged a bond between the two girls. They never spoke of their fears again. Side by side they threw themselves into the most feverish pursuits of the Season. As all had predicted, Cecily was declared a diamond of the first water. Smitten beaus sent her poems describing her hair as cascading moonbeams and her eyes as pools of sweet chocolate. They smiled over the missives, but with her usual flair for the dramatic, Cecily refused to save any but Lord Kendall’s brief note.

  While Cecily left cracked hearts littering the ton, Serena formed a court of her own. Finally she learned the art of coy use of fan and lashes Aunt Lavinia labored so last Season to teach her. It was really quite simple when one’s emotions were so uninvolved. Now it was merely a game they all played for one another’s amusement.

  When she heard herself termed a reigning beauty, she was so shocked, she hid her laughter behind her fan. What a change of fortunes for Miss Serena Fitzwater of Market Weighton, East Riding, York! What would Blackwood make of this creation that the ton was forming?

  She tried not to dwell on thoughts of him. Although sometimes she would catch a glimpse of Longford—his shining hair or his dark eyes—so reminiscent of Blackwood
that it seemed an arrow pierced her heart. Then she would be gayer than ever.

  Much to Serena’s surprise, Longford seem to be forsaking his rakehell ways to ensure Cecily’s Season. He was so dutiful, attending both his sister and Serena, the matchmaking matrons began once again to urge their daughters to cast lures at the future duke, for obviously he’d mended his ways.

  Halfway through the Season at Lady Jersey’s ball, he bluntly informed both girls they were established firmly enough to satisfy even Their Graces, and promptly abandoned them to begin a scandalous interlude with a young married baroness whose elderly husband remained in the country. The tabbies were off! Both Cecily and Serena were continuously assailed by tidbits of gossip.

  The next night Aunt Lavinia held her annual soiree to parade the lovelies for her son, or as some snidely remarked, “to parade her son for the lovelies.” Frederick, stuffed into his coat, was immune to all but one.

  “Cousin, dearest, do say you will assist my suit for the fair Lady Cecily. I’ve been captivated by her beauty since last winter at Avalon Hall,” Frederick proposed to Serena after pulling her aside. “Did she receive the poem I penned to her eyelashes?”

  His owl eyes, so like his mother’s, blinked rapidly. His shirt points made it virtually impossible to turn his head and he moved with odd jerky contortions, looking at once like a crested jay.

  Serena covered her smile at the mixed metaphors with her fan. “Frederick, the poem was lovely, but I’ve told you before Cecily regards you as a most charming friend,” she repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time.

  “I feared so.” He languished. “Gossip has it Lady Cecily’s heart has been given and she waits for someone’s return.” An expectant smile suffused his face, made ruddy by his too-constraining collar.

  She wouldn’t fall for that trap. “I wouldn’t listen to idle gossip, Frederick, for it’s usually inaccurate.” Fanning herself briskly, for the soiree was a squeeze with virtually everyone in attendance, she attempted to fob off her cousin’s inquiries. “I never pay heed to it myself.”

  “So like you, Serena, to be above such things. Mother says you’re like your sainted papa. I don’t care what anyone else says, you have my admiration for being so brave in the face of the unpleasant gossip about you and Longford.”

  Serena’s moving fan clicked shut. Stunned, she stared back at Frederick, but he was already moving stiffly away. Gossip about Longford and her? The absurdity of it was such she instantly dismissed it from her mind.

  That evening, much to her surprise, Longford waited up for their return. Since he stood propped against the library door, slowly swirling a snifter of brandy in his fingers, it was not too difficult to determine he’d been imbibing.

  “What a pair of lovelies you are,” he drawled, sipping at the brandy. “Cecily, Father has received three more offers for your hand and turned them down as you demanded he do at the beginning of this interminable Season. Their Graces are much too indulgent for your own good. Still determined to wait on Kendall, huh? You may end up on the shelf, brat!”

  “How can you be so heartless, Long!” Cecily lifted her chin, sending him a pained look. “You know I have given my heart to Kendall. If you mean to be insulting, I’ll have no part of it.” Picking up the edge of her gown, she swept up the staircase without a backward glance.

  “I want to talk to you alone anyway, Serena. Come into the library,” he demanded before turning away to stroll lazily to the bottle and refill his glass.

  She followed him for no other reason than to discover why he was being cruel to Cecily, whom he so obviously adored.

  “It isn’t like you to talk so to your sister.”

  He laughed once before flinging his head back and tossing the last of the brandy down his throat. “As you see, I’m not at my best tonight. Ever get bedeviled by ugly gossip, Serena?” he asked with a bluntness that sounded utterly sober, although he suddenly sat into a chair by the fireplace.

  Holding herself stiffly erect, she looked calmly into his face and tried not to think about his resemblance to Blackwood. “I have no time for such nonsense. It’s a waste of my energy.”

  His long mouth curved up at one end. “Well done, Serena. My mother’s influence is clearly discernible.” The hooded eyes slid over her slowly. “You’ve made a remarkable transformation from insipid country mouse to fascinating woman. Perhaps this time I really should take my cue from the gossiping tabbies and act accordingly.”

  He sprang up and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek with one finger.

  She slapped it away. “Do stop being utterly absurd! I know exactly what you’re up to.” Exasperated past bearing, she glared at him. “Just inform me what this is all about. No doubt in time I’d find the proper way without your tortured guidance, but I haven’t the patience for it now.”

  She had the privilege of seeing true surprise settle over his countenance.

  “Obviously you’ve found it on your own. You’ve heard, I see. And dismissed the talk as the rubbish it is. I’m delighted your opinion of me isn’t so low you’d believe I covet my brother’s wife.” He placed his glass on a side table and looked at it with distaste.

  “Longford, unlike your sister, I know under all those layers of cynicism there really must be a heart. And I know it remains untouched by me, or anyone else.”

  Those hooded eyes studied her for a long moment. “Reverend Fitzwater’s daughter, there are times when you amaze even me!” His genuine laughter echoed in the library even after he’d strolled out.

  Immensely weary with all the currents swirling around her and the constant ache of Blackwood’s absence kept tightly hidden inside, Serena wished for nothing but the forgetfulness of slumber. Before she could go up to her bedchamber, Cecily flew through the wide doorway to clasp her in a tight hug.

  “I couldn’t bear being at odds with Long, so came down to make amends and heard all!” she declared, releasing Serena to step back and smile so broadly, her dimple disappeared. “I’m delighted there isn’t the slightest truth to what people are whispering.”

  Serena was utterly shocked to discover Cecily had heard the gossip and said nothing to her. “Why wouldn’t you discuss this with me if you knew? Cecily, you weren’t afraid it was true?”

  “Long is quite dashing and handsome. Besides, he’s a rake, and we women always lose our hearts to such men. It is something within us, believing we are the ones to save them from their fate,” she returned calmly.

  “But surely you would have hated me if I was unfaithful to Blackwood?” Serena’s legs started to tremble and she sat in the chair Longford had just vacated.

  “How could I hate you for loving both my brothers? It’s easily done.”

  Her answer was so logical, Serena saw, at last, Cecily truly was her mother’s daughter.

  “But it’s all right. Your undying affecting for Blackwood is stronger than Long’s rakish appeal,” Cecily finished with a dramatic sigh.

  “In all honesty I must tell you rakes, your brother or any other, have never held any attraction for me. Perhaps in a novel it’s so, but I believe most of us are drawn to other attributes. After all, Lord Kendall is not a rake, is he?”

  “Lord Kendall is marvelous! So brave, so gallant, so handsome … so…” Her eyes wide, Cecily obviously searched for more apt descriptions of her heart’s desire. “…so absent,” she finally concluded. “Serena, when will Kendall return? I don’t know how much more I can bear.”

  Not being so poor-spirited to spoil Cecily’s dramatic posture by reminding her she bore the loss of her husband, Serena patted the slumped shoulder. “We must be brave for just a while longer. These dreadful wars will end soon. And with that, Lord Kendall will return … and Blackwood, also.”

  But Serena was proved wrong. For at the Season’s end there was no happy news. She went to Avalon Landing af
ter securing promises that any news would be sent straight through to her. The summer came and went. Fall promised a bountiful harvest, and the village was full of praise for the lady of the manor.

  She returned to London, where the duke and duchess had stayed on so the Prince Regent’s physician could attend His Grace, who continued failing.

  It had been so long since word of Blackwood that when a letter finally arrived in October, both Cecily and the duchess demanded she read it aloud straightaway.

  Dear Serena, we have finally arrived at Chesapeake Bay only to find chaos. The stores are inadequate, the accommodations worse. It’s a low blow to the men after our difficult sea voyage. Sergeant Major Higgens is trying to rouse the men’s lowered spirits while Jeffries assists Kendall and myself in procuring better equipment. Our orders are to march on their capital city, Washington it is called, and burn it if necessary. This does not sit well with the men or with me. Kendall sends his regards and as always I send my deep affection to all of you.

  Blackwood

  It was so vastly different from his other letters, which had been full of glory and valor, that they all stared at one another silently. Serena saw something flicker in the depths of the duchess’s eyes. Perhaps she, too, had noticed the lack of personal affection or any whimsical reference to their chrysanthemum plant.

  A few weeks later the duchess, pale-faced and without her usual grace, entered the conservatory, where Serena was fussing at the chrysanthemum, her thoughts, as always, centered on Blackwood.

  “Serena, word has arrived from the War Office.”

  Something in the duchess’s face brought her to her feet. Fear, greater than anything she had ever known, froze her into immobility.

  Taking Serena’s suddenly frozen hands, Her Grace squeezed them, bringing back life and warmth. “There has been a defeat at the bombardment of Fort McHenry. Matthew has been seriously injured and will be on the next boat home.”

  It took a few moments for the words to penetrate Serena’s fear-numbed mind. She forced herself to speak calmly. “How serious are his injuries?”