by Bree Wolf
“He says William is a rare case,” Catherine confided, her worst fears once again clawing into her heart. “He’s heard of people losing their memories, but it doesn’t happen a lot.”
Christine’s brows rose. “I wouldn’t think so,” she scoffed. “Well, did he say anything about these people regaining their memories?”
Catherine shrugged. “He says sometimes they do and sometimes they don’t.” Gripping her sister’s hands, Catherine stared into her face. “What if he’ll never remember who I am? What if this accident erased the love we had for each other? What am I supposed to do?”
“Take a deep breath,” her sister instructed, her eyes urging her to remain calm. “Will loves you, and he will remember that.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“He will,” Christine promised, “but he will need your help.”
“But what can I do?”
A soft smile on her face, Christine looked imploringly into her sister’s eyes. “You need to help him remember. Spend as much time with him as you can. Tell him how you met, how you fell in love. Let him see who you are. I am certain he will remember you.”
At her sister’s words, Catherine remembered the moment her husband’s eyes had met hers when she had returned to his chamber the day before. Her heart full of hope and joy, she had seen only confusion and uncertainty in his. She remembered how he had averted his gaze, unable to look directly at her, guilt marking his pale face.
Catherine shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered, cursing herself for the weakness that lived in her heart. “He looked at me as though I was a stranger, a stranger he ought to love but can’t.”
“But you’re not a stranger, and you must remind him of that,” Christine insisted.
Taking a deep breath, Catherine met her sister’s eyes. “My misery caused him pain,” she whispered. “I could see it in his eyes. Even though he does not remember the past few years, he is still the man he’s always been. He is kind and compassionate, and to see me suffer hurts him because he knows it is because of him that it is so.” Catherine swallowed. “I went to see him this morning, and the moment he saw me, it was as though guilt engulfed him. He couldn’t meet my eyes, and seeing the pain on his face broke my heart. I turned on my heel and left without saying a single word.” Looking up, she met her sister’s eyes. “How can I help him when my mere presence puts him in such pain? All I remind him of is a life he cannot remember as well as the pain he is causing me. He does not wish to see me, and I know at least a part of him wishes I would stay away for good.”
Gripping Catherine’s hands, Christine leaned forward. “I know you’re discouraged. Anyone would be. But you mustn’t give up. If you do, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”
“I know,” Catherine admitted. “But I keep thinking, what if he doesn’t remember? What if I do what you say and he doesn’t remember? What will happen then? If I did not love him, I could be his wife and have mere kindness be the bond between us.” Determined, Catherine shook her head. “But I do love him, and I cannot be his wife when all he feels is obligation.”
“But you are his wife!” Christine snapped, a worried glimmer in her eyes as she looked at her sister. “What are you saying?”
Catherine shrugged. “I don’t know. But knowing William, I'm afraid that out of obligation to his wife, he would force himself to care for me even if his heart said otherwise. And I know I cannot live not knowing whether he truly loves me or only pretends to do so.” Catherine took a deep breath. “No matter what happens, I need to know whether or not he truly loves me.”
“How do you plan to do that?” Christine asked, her eyes narrowed as though her mind had already set to work on the issue.
Catherine shrugged. “I have no idea.”
***
Sitting in the armchair situated under the large window in her bedchamber, Catherine stared out into the snow-covered garden. It seemed all she did these days was stare out the window, her mind occupied with the question of what to do while her heart teetered back and forth between hope and despair.
A knock on the door roused her, and she blinked, forcing her gaze from the window.
“How are you?” Christine asked, and although her voice held concern, a mischievous sparkle lit up her eyes.
Catherine shrugged. How was she? She had no idea.
Holding open the door, Christine stepped aside, and Wesley appeared in its frame. “May I come in?” he asked, the same mixture of concern and mischief on his face as well.
Catherine nodded, wondering what was going on.
“We need to speak to you,” Christine said, closing the door behind them. “I’ve thought about what you said, and I think I might have a plan.” A slightly suppressed smile on her face, she looked at Catherine as though trying to gauge her reaction.
“What do you mean?” Catherine asked, a hint of unease crawling up her spine as she rose from the armchair and stepped toward her sister and brother-in-law. Christine’s plans usually didn’t bode well.
Christine glanced at Wesley, who then stepped forward and cleared his throat. “I spoke to Will, and I believe you might be right.”
“About what?”
Wesley sighed, the good humour that usually lit up his face gone. “You need to know that he is miserable about…everything, but most of all, he feels awful about what his memory loss means for you.” He took a step forward, his hands gesturing wildly trying to convey what he had trouble putting into words. “You have to understand how difficult this is for him. He wakes up and learns that he has lost the last few years of his life and finds himself married to a woman he has never even seen before.”
A sob escaped Catherine’s throat, and she nodded. “I know.”
“Please understand that I’m not saying this to hurt you,” Wesley implored her, “but only to make you understand.”
“I know,” Catherine mumbled, “and I thank you for everything. Thank you for being there for him when I…”
“There’s no need to thank him,” Christine interrupted before she flashed a quick smile at Wesley, “he is Will’s brother. It’s what brothers do. Sisters as well, I might add.”
As Christine’s arm came around her, Catherine rested her head against her sister’s shoulder. “I know.”
“Well, what I meant to say,” Wesley continued, “was that he feels awful for hurting you. He saw your misery, and it pains him greatly. When I spoke to him, he said that you deserved better and that he regrets that he cannot release you from your vow so that you might find your happiness elsewhere should he not regain his memories.”
As her heart broke into little pieces all over again−how often could a heart break?−Catherine sagged against her sister, more tears streaming down her face.
Hugging her sister tightly, Christine hissed at Wesley, “Did you have to put it this bluntly?”
“I’m sorry,” her brother-in-law said, his voice contrite.
“No,” Catherine interrupted, once more brushing tears from her cheeks. “I need to hear it. It’s exactly what I’ve been afraid of.” She shook her head. “I cannot face him.”
“Maybe not as yourself,” Christine said, the hint of a smile curling up her lips, “but maybe as me.”
Catherine frowned. “What?” Her gaze shifted from her sister to her brother-in-law, who looked a bit sheepish, grinning at her as though he wanted to assure her that this was not his idea.
“Look,” Christine began, her face eager, “the moment Will sees you he feels bad for how hard this situation is on you, which makes you feel bad because you love him, which once again makes him feel bad.” She shook her head as though the whole scenario was ridiculous. “So,” she continued, a slight curl to her lips, “the solution is simple.”
Catherine frowned, her eyes searching her sister’s face. It was not the barely suppressed smile or the mischievous glow that came to her eyes, but more so the way Christine almost seemed to dance on the spot that made Catherine
regard her with unease. “Are you saying you want to talk to him? Because seeing you would not hurt him because you’re not the one affected by his memory loss?”
“Almost,” Christine grinned.
Catherine frowned. “What do you mean?”
Wesley sighed, a hint of exasperation in his eyes as he regarded her sister. “What she means,” he began, rolling his eyes at Christine, “is that you should speak to Will pretending to be your sister.”
Catherine’s eyes flew open. “What? Are you serious?” She looked from her brother-in-law to her sister and back again. “He will know it’s me.”
“Will he?” Christine asked, an excited gleam in her eyes. “As far as he knows he has never even met you until yesterday, and you spent five minutes together?” When Catherine nodded, she hastened on. “Look, we may not be twins, but we are definitely sisters, and your dear brother-in-law," she glanced up at Wesley, "just now confirmed that it could work when he mistook me for you.”
“You did?”
A sheepish look on his face, Wesley shrugged his shoulders. “I walked around a corner and I only saw her in profile for a second. Once she turned, I immediately knew−”
“Spare us your excuses!” Christine interrupted. “This could work. Will has never even seen me before−at least as far as he knows−and if we adjust our wardrobe, he will not know the difference.”
Catherine sighed, glancing down her own simple, comparatively plain dress before turning her eyes to her sister’s rather extravagant gown. Then she met Christine's impatient gaze before her eyes swept over her sister’s features. It was true: they shared the same straight nose, smoky green eyes and full lips. Even the small dimples that showed when unadulterated happiness put a deep smile on their faces were the same.
“He will not know it is his wife he’s speaking to,” Christine repeated, a hint of concern in her eyes that her marvellous idea might be rejected.
“Maybe,” Catherine mumbled. “But why? What would this accomplish?”
Christine sighed with exasperation. “Isn’t it obvious? Letting him think that he is speaking to me, his sister-in-law, will help him relax and meet you without constantly being afraid that every word he utters will hurt you. He will be able to converse freely with you, and,” she smirked, squeezing Catherine’s hands, “he will fall in love with you all over again.”
For a moment, Catherine smiled, allowing herself to believe that her sister’s insane plan had any chance of success. However, her own rational mind would not allow her more than a mere moment. “Even if what you say is true, it won’t be me, but you he falls in love with.”
Christine shrugged. “But only in name.”
“But he will think I am his sister-in-law,” Catherine insisted, “and find any emotions he might begin to feel for me to be wrong. How can he fall in love with me, knowing that there can never be anything between us?”
Biting her lower lip, Christine smirked, her eyes drifting to Wesley, who chuckled. “This is no hindrance. In fact, it might even serve you well because don’t we all know that the forbidden fruit is the most tempting.”
“You’re serious,” Catherine observed, shaking her head at her sister. Then her eyes drifted to her brother-in-law. “Do you believe she is right?”
Wesley shrugged. “We cannot know what will happen. Maybe he will regain his memories soon so that all of this will be unnecessary. However, if he does not, then what? That is the main question here, is it not? What do we do if he never remembers?” His gaze held hers, and Catherine swallowed the lump that had lodged in her throat. “I can see how much that thought alone pains you,” he continued, “and I have seen Will’s reaction to your mere presence.” He glanced at Christine. “As insane as her plan sounds, I do believe there is some merit to it. If he believes you to be his sister-in-law, he can converse with you, ask you about what he does not remember, questions he would never ask you as his wife because he would be afraid to cause you more pain. I know my brother, and I believe this to be our…your best chance.”
Taking a deep breath, Catherine nodded. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m not certain I could do it.” She looked at her sister. “We may look a lot alike, but we are very different. Even if I put on your gown, I could never be you.”
Christine smiled. “That is the beauty of this plan: you don’t have to. Will remembers neither one of us. He has no idea what you and I are like. You can pretend to be me, but speak and act and think as you always have. In fact, you must because it is that person he fell in love with, is it not?”
“And what do we do if he suddenly remembers?” Catherine asked.
“Then we’ll all have a great laugh,” Christine chuckled, her eyes sparkling with adventure.
“And if he does not remember but still falls in love with me? What do we do then?”
Christine shrugged. “We switch back.”
“Won’t he be furious that we’ve deceived him?”
“Maybe for a moment,” Christine said. “However, in the end, he’ll be relieved he’s not married to me.” Laughing, she pulled Catherine into a hug. “Don’t worry, little sister, all will be well. I promise.”
“What about Maud?” Catherine asked. “She’ll know I’m not you.”
“I’ll speak to my mother,” Wesley said, “as well as your maid. With regard to the rest of the servants, I believe it to be better not to involve them.”
Catherine frowned, new doubts creeping up her spine. “But what if they call me my lady instead of Miss Dansby? What do I do then?”
Wesley smiled at her reassuringly. “If Will is with you, just act as though it’s been a mistake that happens a lot. But I promise I will speak to them and inform them that your sister,” he glanced at Christine, “will be staying with us for a while to help with Will’s recovery. Come to think of it,” he turned to Christine, “it might be better if you two are not seen together so much. Maybe you should stay in your chamber and pretend to be overcome with sadness or something.”
Christine’s face fell. “What? And miss all the fun?”
Wesley frowned at her. “Do you want this to work?”
“Fine,” her sister snapped, the spark of adventure that had lit up her eyes before replaced by one of sheer boredom. “And what do you propose I do all day?”
“I’ll keep you company,” Wesley promised. “After all, Will and Catherine should spend as much time as possible alone together.”
“Great,” Christine huffed. “While you two are out falling in love all over again, I’m locked in a room with my brother-in-law.”
Wesley frowned at her. “I’m not your brother-in-law.”
Christine just snorted before she returned her eyes back to her sister. “So? What do you say?”
“I’m scared,” Catherine whispered. “But I cannot lose him, and as much as I’ve always doubted your ludicrous plans, I do believe this one is the best chance I have of getting him back.” A soft smile came to her face as she looked at her sister. “Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it,” Christine replied, the same smile curling up her own lips. “That’s what sisters are for.”
Chapter Three − A Stranger
After three more days tied to his chamber, Dr. Martin finally gave him permission to leave his bed. It was already late afternoon, but nevertheless, William sighed in relief. After all, had he not missed enough in the past five years? What changes would he spot around the manor? What news would he hear that wasn’t actually news?
Invigorated, he swung his legs out of bed.
“Remember not to overdo it,” Dr. Martin warned as he turned to the door. “I’ll be back to see you in a couple of days. Until then, take it one step at a time.”
As the door closed behind the white-haired doctor, William turned to his brother. “I need to get out of this room,” he said, hearing a hint of desperation in his voice.
Wesley chuckled. “You do look like you could use some air. Would you care to take a stroll inside the m
anor?”
“I’d rather go outside,” William objected, his hands quicker than expected as he pulled off his nightshirt and then turned to the clothes he had snatched from his wardrobe. There was no time to wait for his valet. He needed to get out now!
“In case you don’t remember,” Wesley said chuckling as he pointed out the window. “It’s November. Everything is covered in a thick layer of snow, which is why you were stuck in this bed in the first place.”
“Fine,” William conceded. “Help me with the jacket.”
Stepping forward, Wesley took the garment from him. “Where is your valet?”
“I have no idea,” William said, sliding his arms into the sleeves. “Is it still Marcus? Or has there been a change?”
“No, no change in that regard,” his brother confirmed, and William relaxed. At least, one thing that had remained the same.
“Tell me what else I’ve missed these past five years,” William asked as they stepped out of his chamber and he closed the door behind them with a sense of satisfaction. “What have my friends been doing?”
As they walked down the corridor and down the stairs to the ground floor, Wesley filled him in on societal developments; who had died, who had inherited a title and/or an estate, who was married, and so on.
“Are you serious?” William asked as they ventured from drawing room to drawing room. “Robert Dashwood is married?”
Wesley nodded with a knowing grin. “It surprised us all, even you.” He chuckled. “His wife’s name is Rose, and she’s a bit of a history enthusiast like her father, whose expertise, I hear, has been greatly appreciated with regard to translating the Rosetta Stone.”
“I remember that,” William mumbled. “Weren’t there three texts in different languages written on it?”
Shaking his head, Wesley gawked at him. “That you remember?” he bellowed.
William grinned. “Well, I suppose it was made public more than five years ago.” Although he experienced a sting of sadness, it also felt good to jest and, at least for a moment, pretend his life was not in upheaval. “So, Notorious Norwood is married as well?”