by Vikki Vaught
While the midwife examined Melody, she assured her, “Everything is progressing nicely, Mrs. Foster. I expect you will have your babe before the day is through. Since you shared with me that you had an easy delivery with your daughter, this one should be even easier.”
Her labor went on well into the night, and the contractions kept coming, much stronger than she’d felt with Mary Elizabeth. Finally, around four o’clock in the morning the midwife told her, “It’s time, milady. On the count of three, give me a big push.” Melody took a deep breath and pushed with all her might, and the baby slipped from her body, and then she heard a lusty cry. “It’s a boy,” the midwife exclaimed, “with a fine, healthy set of lungs on him. He’s quite large for a newborn. No wonder it took you a while to deliver him.”
“Let me see my son.” She gazed lovingly at her beautiful baby boy. He had golden blond hair and dark blue eyes. Melody smiled. “Do you think he will have blue eyes? Mary Elizabeth’s eyes were a bright blue. My son’s eyes are dark.”
“I suspect he’ll probably have your eyes. It will be a few months before you’ll know for sure,” she explained. “He’s a beautiful babe, ma’am.”
It had been a harder delivery than what she’d experienced with Mary Elizabeth, and exhaustion pulled at her very being. The midwife cleaned her up, and Millie helped her put on a fresh gown, and then the midwife went to tell her husband he had a son.
Shortly after the midwife went out to tell him the news, her husband rushed into the bedroom. Melody sat up in the bed, proudly holding his son. Brandon glowed as he smiled at her. “He’s so beautiful. I’m so relieved you and the babe are fine. I didn’t want you to know, but I worried that something would go wrong. I didn’t want to lose you like…I lost Lily. You mean a great deal to me.”
“I care deeply for you, too. You’re a wonderful husband, and while my heart will always belong to Henry, I’m glad we married. You make me feel safe. I’m grateful we have this beautiful child.” Then glancing down at her son, she added, “He looks like me, doesn’t he? What do you want to name him?”
“If it’s all right with you, I would like to name him after me.”
“I’ve always loved your name, so of course I agree.”
Brandon picked up his son and cradled him in his arms. He looked at her and grinned from ear to ear. She returned his smile, and then feeling exhausted from her labor, she closed her eyes and slipped off to sleep.
The next morning, Melody cradled her son to her breast and watched him take his nourishment from her body, and a huge sense of peace came over her. While she was not in love with Brandon, she realized there were many types of love. What she felt for Brandon had its own rewards.
* * * *
They were riding by a lake, and then they dismounted. He pulled her into his arms. “Have I told you how much I love you lately, Melody? I feel so blessed to have you as my wife. Every time I see you, your beauty steals my breath away. I miss you dreadfully while I’m away. In a few more months, we’ll go north. Come, my darling, let us take a walk around the lake.”
They discovered a secluded spot. He kissed her, and she responded passionately. He pulled her to the ground—
Damn. As the dream reached the good part, he awoke in a fully aroused state. Henry realized the beautiful woman in his dreams was indeed his wife, as he had suspected. Melody.
What a pretty name. Why could he not remember more? Only these bits and pieces of his previous life were driving him mad. Where were they in the dream? Why did he have to leave her?
The other night, he dreamed of a time when he was a child. He was playing in a tree by a lake and fell in. An older boy fetched him out, because he could not swim. It appeared to be the same lake he had just dreamt of with his wife.
Oh, God, why can’t I put these pieces together?
The dreams of the battle were the worst. There were always the same. Men dead and dying all around him, and he could not do anything. That poor horse screaming, and him unable to do anything to help. A Frenchman raised his rifle as he jumped clear of the animal. He saw himself falling and awoke bathed in sweat.
Will my memory ever return?
He dropped to his knees and prayed for God’s wisdom. Finally, peace settled over him, then he crawled in bed and fell back to sleep.
Fall passed, and soon winter was upon him. As he celebrated Christmas, he wondered what Melody was doing. Surely, she had gone on with her life after this much time. He continued to have more dreams, but they still did not tell him what he needed to know.
His heart yearned for his wife. Surely his memory would come back, and soon. His dreams had become much more detailed. Of course, he still suffered from acute headaches whenever he thought too much about these dreams and visions.
That night, before he drifted off to sleep, he fell to his knees and prayed, “Lord, I’m trying to be patient, but I’m tormented. Please if it be Your will, let my memory return to me or stop these dreams and visions so I can be content here with the monks. I leave this to Your infinite wisdom. In Your son’s most precious name I pray. Amen.”
A huge load lifted from his chest. He truly had turned this over to God at last. He had no more dreams throughout the rest of the night, and when he woke up the next morning, he immediately prayed, thanking God for his peaceful night’s slumber.
More time passed. Henry had been at the monastery for over two and a half years, and even though he still did not have his memory back, he felt a little more at peace with it all since he had turned it over to God.
He continued to have dreams of his wife. That night, he awoke and tears bathed his face. Melody was so beautiful with her long honey blonde hair and incredible sherry-colored eyes. This dream had been particularly erotic, and he found himself hard as steel again. A huge sense of loss tugged at him.
Oh, God. She must think I’m dead!
Would she have found someone else?
Did I leave children behind?
He crawled out of bed and got down on his knees and sought relief from his torment in prayer. “Please Lord, let my memory come back. I’m trying to have patience, but sometimes it’s so hard. I know I keep taking this back from You. Help me, O Lord. Through Your son’s precious name. Amen.”
When he finished his prayer, Henry crawled back in bed. Peace rolled over him, knowing in his heart he had finally turned this over to God.
In late January, while helping Father Francis repair a crumbling wall around the monastery, Henry climbed to the top and leaned over for Father Francis to hand him a brick. He lost his balance and fell forward. He hit his head hard on the side of the wall, and everything went black.
In the wee hours of the morning, Henry slowly awoke disoriented. He sat up and looked around. “Where…where am I? Where’s my wife? What’s wrong with my head? Oh, God, it hurts like hell!”
A priest sitting by his bed leaned forward. “My son, you fell off the wall yesterday and hit your head. Have you remembered more? Do you know who you are?”
Henry stared at the monk. “Of course I do. I’m Henry Montgomery. A captain in His Majesty’s Royal Army. Now where is my wife? Who are you?”
“I’m Father Francis, Captain. You have been living here at this monastery for quite some time, ever since the Battle of Waterloo.” Then he told Henry what had happened to him since the battle and when it had occurred. “Evidently, when you hit your head yesterday, your memory returned.”
Henry fell against the pillow and groaned. A hammer pounded away at his temple. Then realizing what Father Francis had told him, he jerked up. “Oh, God, do you mean it’s been that long? How is this even possible?”
The priest answered, “It’s not unusual to lose one’s memory after a severe trauma to the head. Now, it appears you have no recollection of the past two and a half years. I’m confident those recent memories should come back to you shortly. Where do you live? And can we contact your family?”
Cold chills ran down his spine.
Mel
ody must believe I’m dead!
He had to get to her immediately. “I need to leave at once. Do I have any money? I will gladly reimburse you if you will lend me the funds to get back to England. My father is the Duke of Sanderford, so paying you back shan’t be a problem. I want to leave tomorrow.”
“We will surely lend you the funds,” he told him, “but I think it would be wise to wait a few days and see if your memory of the time you have spent here with us comes back. You also need to recover from hitting your head yesterday.”
“I must accept your wisdom on this.” While he desperately wanted to dash from the room and rush to his wife, his head hurt like the very devil. “I’ll stay for a few days, but then I must leave, even if I don’t remember what has happened since the battle. Thank you for what you have done for me.”
The kind priest stood. “A wise decision, my son. I’m sure all will be well after you have rested.”
After Father Francis left, Henry leaned against his pillow, closed his eyes and fell asleep. When he awoke later in the afternoon, although his head still ached, it no longer felt as if a nail was being driven into his skull.
Over the next few days, he regained most of his memory he’d lost. The month before the battle and the month after still eluded him, other than what had come to him in his dreams.
As he made ready to leave the monastery, he turned to Father Francis. “Thank you for all you have done for me. Without your care and support, I would have gone insane. Because of your wise counsel, I feel much closer to God, and I will be eternally grateful to you. I’ll write to let you know I made it home safe. I will keep you in my prayers. Farewell, my friend.”
He embraced the man who had been his lifeline, then climbed in the wagon that would take him to town.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It took him almost ten days to make it to the coast of France and find passage over the English Channel. Although the waters were rough, nothing would hold him back from getting to Melody. When he arrived in London, he went to Montgomery House, even though the family would be at Sanderford Park. After he found some of his old clothes and took a bath, he shaved and cut off the long hair. Mansfield could tidy him up once he arrived home.
The next morning, he took one of the horses his father always kept in town and road toward Sanderford Park. A slightly older Freddie came running out of the stable. The young lad stopped short with a look of utter amazement on his face. “Milord. Yer supposed t’ be dead.”
Henry looked at the stable lad and smiled sardonically. “Well, that’s obviously not true. As you can see, I’m very much alive. Take care of my mount and give him plenty of oats. He’s been ridden hard this morning.”
As he approached the front door, it opened and Helen came out. She took one look at him, and her eyes rolled back in her head as she fainted dead away. He rushed to catch her before she fell to the steps.
Simpson came out, and his eyes widened. “My…my lord, this is a miracle. Everyone will be so shocked. Let me help you with Lady Helen.”
He carried his sister into the morning room and laid her on the couch. She started to come around, and she stared at him. “Henry? You…you’re alive?”
He smiled at her. “I am, sweetheart.” He gave a brief summary of what had happened to him at Waterloo.
“Henry, that was ages ago. Why are you only coming home now?”
“I lost my memory.” Then he told her the rest of his story, including his time with the monks.
Helen burst into tears as she hugged him. “Thank goodness you survived after all.”
No longer able to constrain his impatience, he blurted out, “Where’s Melody?”
Her face fell and turned somber. “Henry…she left after the funeral. She went to live with her parents. We haven’t heard from her in years. We felt sure the memories were too painful for her, and that’s why she quit writing.”
His heart stopped.
Panic set his pulse racing.
He shook his head, not wanting to believe what she had said. “What? You just let her leave?”
His sister’s eyes pleaded with him. “She insisted she wanted to go to her parents. We tried to talk her out of it, to no avail. Nelson took her a few days after the funeral. We kept in contact for a while, then she quit returning our letters.”
Frustrated, he tunneled his fingers through his hair. The thought of her not being at the park never crossed his mind. “Well, at least I know where she is. I’ll leave first thing in the morning to go bring her home.”
Helen met his gaze, and sadness shone in the depths of her eyes. “I don’t think you will want to leave yet.” She hesitated. “Henry…Nelson’s dying.”
A flash of pain tore through his heart. He could not lose his brother. “What do you mean he’s dying? What happened?”
She dashed away a tear rolling down her cheek. “He has a wasting disease. The doctor told us he only has a few days left. Father’s been so distressed. First you died, and then Nelson became ill. Everyone’s going to be shocked.”
“Is there no hope for Nelson?” All this news sent his head into a tailspin.
She shook her head. “Father has had a great many doctors examine him, and they all say the same thing. He will not recover. Let me go to everyone and tell them you’re alive.”
Henry remained in the morning room while his sister went to the family. He could not stay seated and paced back and forth, confused and torn between staying for his brother and finding Melody.
It did not surprise him that she went to her parents, but to stop corresponding troubled him. She had loved his sisters, so something was not right, and he would get to the bottom of this after he saw his brother.
Helen returned, and they went to the drawing room. When they entered, his father stood. “Thank God you are alive. Did Helen tell you about Nelson?”
“She did. Is there truly no hope?” Henry’s throat closed up and tears burned his eyes, but he remained composed.
“He is fading fast, growing weaker by the day. He will be so relieved you are returned to us.” The duke’s eyes held a wealth of pain. “Henry. I…I have missed you, son.”
He could not remember his father ever calling him that. The lump in his throat grew to the size of a golf ball. He swallowed, then said, “I have missed you as well…Father.”
After hugs from his sister, and even his stoic mother, his father offered to take him to Nelson. “His wife might be with him. You met her, I believe. He married Mary Harrison over two years ago.”
As Henry and his father climbed the stairs, he could not get over the change in him. The lines on his face were much deeper than before, and his skin had a grayish tone. The duke had aged twenty years since he had last seen him. His father placed his hand on the handle. “I shall give him the news of your miraculous survival. I will return momentarily.”
The duke went into his brother’s room as he waited. A moment later, his father opened the door and motioned him in. His wife must have left the room, because his brother was alone. Nelson looked so diminished as he lay there, nothing of the robust brother he remembered remained. He barely managed to school his features, not wanting Nelson to see his shock. There was no hope left—he was not long for this world.
Nelson struggled to sit. “Henry. Thank God…you’re alive. C-come here so I can s-see you better.” The frailty in his brother’s voice pulled at his soul.
He approached the bed and touched Nelson’s shrunken hand, then gently squeezed. “It’s so good to see you, old friend. I understand congratulations are in order. I told you that you would like her, did I not?”
Nelson attempted a smile. “I…I am so g-grateful you have r-returned to us. Mary is…the b-best…thing to…ever happen…to me. I l-love her so much.” His brother drew in a ragged breath every few words.
Seeing the strain on his haggard face, and not wanting to tax him further, he told him, “I need to get settled. I shall return after dinner to say goodnight. Rest easy, my frien
d.”
Nelson smiled, then shut his eyes, obviously done in. Henry and his father left the room, quietly closing the door behind them.
As they walked away from his brother’s rooms, his father said, “Please come with me to my study so we can talk. We have a great deal we need to discuss.”
Shock reverberated through him. He could not remember a time when his father had ever used the word “please”. He followed the duke to his study. It was always a room he had hated as a child. It held a lot of bad memories, since anytime he’d been called there usually meant a caning.
He shook his head and dismissed those thoughts. Now he had to accept the inevitable. Whether he wanted it or not, he would have the responsibility of the dukedom on his shoulders. He prayed he would be up to the task.
Once they entered the study, his father pointed to the chair in front of his massive desk. “Take a seat. I thought all was lost. With you dead and Nelson dying with no heir to carry on, it would have been the end of our line when I died. I can rest easy, knowing you will carry on the title and be here for your sisters.”
It was so like his father to be concerned for the dukedom. “I understand, sir. I shall do whatever is needed. All you have to do is ask.”
His father sank into his chair and sighed. “I have not treated you well, and I owe you an explanation. You reminded me so much of myself when I was young. I thought I needed to be hard so you would grow up strong. Instead, I alienated you.”
His eyes held sincerity, and even contrition. Emotions he never expected the duke would ever feel. “Thank you, Father. It helps to know that.”
The duke faced him and met his gaze with what appeared to be regret in the depths of his blue eyes—eyes so like his own. “I want you to know how proud I am of you and your accomplishments with the Army. When I received the dreadful news of your death, I realized I never told you. Although I do not deserve it, I hope you can forgive me.”
Henry found it difficult to speak. His throat tightened, and he blinked to hold back the tears threatening. At last, he managed to speak. “All I’ve ever wanted was to know you were proud of me. Perhaps, we can start anew.”
