The Captain's Letters

by Caylen McQueen

  THE

  CAPTAIN'S LETTERS

  Caylen McQueen

  PART ONE

  Chapter One

  “Marry me.”

  Marie Sutton had longed to hear those words. If not for the crushing weight of an unfortunate reality that pressed against her heart, the moment might have been perfect.

  “Marry me,” Captain Sedgeford repeated. “Marry me, and make me the happiest man who ever lived.”

  Marie's nose wrinkled slightly. Surely he could do better than such a cliché? He was, after all, the very same man who had effectively wooed her with poetry for the last three months. He was the man who made her believe in the existence of romance, and the possibility of love.

  “Captain Sedgeford, I...” Though she adored the man who knelt before her, she hated to seem too eager.

  “I love you, Miss Sutton.” Charles seized her hand and held it against his lips. “I should have told you ages ago, as soon as I realized how deeply you were embedded in my heart. In truth, it is quite possible I loved you since the moment I saw you.”

  “I...” Marie desperately wanted to repeat his words; it was, after all, entirely true. She loved this man with every beat of her heart. And yet, her trembling lips refused to utter the words. His sudden admonition of love had left her transfixed, paralyzed. Marie needed to protect her heart, to stop herself from becoming too invested. It felt dangerous to love him, if only because their shared future was in an undeniably precarious position.

  “I love you, Miss Sutton... I love you!” the captain exclaimed. “I cannot breathe when I am not with you, nor do I care to exist in any space that does not contain you. I need to be with you, to be near you. When I look upon your smile, it is as if I am looking into the sun. Tell me... please.” His eyes were those of a desperate man. “Tell me you return my feelings! I would rather die than be denied your love.”

  “Captain Sedgeford...” When Marie finally regained the use of her voice, her lips trembled more violently than ever. She could feel her heart smashing against her sternum as she whispered her reply. “I do love you.”

  “You do?”

  His eyes had swelled comically, so much that she had to giggle. “Indeed. I do! Is it truly such a surprise? Ever since the day we met, there has been only one man in my thoughts: you.”

  Winning the affection of such a woman was no small accomplishment for the captain. A dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty like Marie Sutton could have chosen any beau—and yet she only wanted him. He could scarcely believe his good fortune.

  “I am surprised,” he admitted. “Surprised... and extraordinarily lucky.” He had been kneeling during his proposal, and when he finally rose to his feet, he could feel his knees shaking. Their shared confessions of love made his body react like a lovesick schoolboy's—was it pitiful for a man of thirty to tremble so? “Then... Miss Sutton... will you consent to be my wife?”

  After she admitted her love, he expected her answer to be an easy one. Nevertheless, Marie hesitated. “I... Captain Sedgeford, I--”

  “I know why you are reluctant.” He held her hand in his and gently stroked her knuckles with his thumb. “It is the war, is it not? Very soon, I shall leave... and we would be separated... possibly for a very long time.”

  “Indeed,” Marie answered with a sigh. “I adore you. I adore you so very much... but I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

  “It is selfish of me to ask you to commit to me... to ask you to wait for me.” The captain released her hand with a sigh. “Perhaps I should not be so selfish. I should not--”

  “But I am committed to you!” she interrupted. “Whether we are engaged or not, my heart would always be yours.”

  “So...?” Charles required further confirmation; he struggled to believe Miss Sutton, the woman he cherished, could truly be his.

  “I will marry you,” she said. “No matter how long it takes, my love... I will wait forever, if I must.”

  Charles wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He knew her strict mother would disapprove of such an embrace, but he could not deny himself what he so desperately needed—he needed to hold her. “Surely not even Bonaparte could keep us apart forever?” Charles buried his lips in her dark tresses and whispered against her scalp. “I love you, Marie Sutton. With all of my heart, I do. Now and forever, you are my greatest treasure.”

  “I love you too.” When he finally released her, she smiled at him so sweetly, he swore he could feel his heart melting yet again. “This separation will be a challenge, but I am very certain our love shall survive it!”

  “Of that, I have no doubt!” He tucked an errant lock of hair behind the young woman's ear. “My god, you are beautiful! How will I ever deserve your love?”

  “You are an incredible man. You have always deserved it,” she assured him. “And you will always have it. Even if you're absent for years, I shall love you just the same!”

  Charles detected the appearance of unshed tears, locked behind her eyes, wavering. “Are you sad, Miss Sutton?”

  “Overjoyed,” she corrected him. “And... perhaps a bit sad. I cannot stand the thought of us being parted.”

  “Nor can I.”

  “And you'll be in so much danger...” she added with a sigh. “How can I bear it? I want you with me always, so I know you are safe. What if you never return from this horrid war?”

  “I am not an easy man to slay, I assure you.” Charles lightly kissed her nose, and grinned. “And if I know you are waiting for me, I simply must return. I refuse to die until I've made you my wife.”

  “Will you write to me?” Marie asked.

  “I certainly shall. As often as I can. Every day, if I am able.” As he stared into her beautiful blue eyes, he tried to soak the memory of her face into his mind. “And you will write to me?”

  “Of course.” As Marie held his hand in hers, she marveled at how large it was. His fingers—long, tanned and masculine—made her pale hands look so diminutive. “In the days to come, only your words will give me life.”

  “Miss Sutton...” He cupped her cheeks in his hands and closed the distance between them. “You are everything to me, my love. Everything. No matter how much time passes, remember how much you were adored by me.”

  “I will.”

  “No man could ever love you as I do,” he whispered. “Not in a hundred years. Not in a thousand years.” As Charles leaned in, his lips parted slightly. His kiss was gentle, but full of longing. He wanted to kiss her again and again, to kiss her until the end of time. He wanted the day—this perfect day—to last forever.

  When she felt his lips on hers, Marie was filled with more certainty than ever before. Charles Sedgeford was the man she adored, the man she needed, the man she would love forever.

  And if she ever lost him, she would never love anyone else.

  Chapter Two

  Fourteen months later

  Joseph Morley braced himself for what would possibly be the most trying day of his life. He was returning to England for the first time in many months; that fact alone should have improved his dire mood. However, it was hardly the joyous homecoming for which he had hoped. Joseph was returning with half of his face—and with some very terrible news for his best friend's paramour.

  As he walked toward the cottage, his walking stick sank into the moist ground like a sponge. When he was fighting in another country, he did not miss the interminable rain of England. Joseph gripped the stick tighter as he wrenched it from the mud's clutches. Unfortunately, the walking stick was no longer a useless ornament, as it was for many gentlemen. After the injuries he sustained in France, he needed it to keep his balance. His limp, as well as his scars, would be a permanent reminder of the horror
s of war.

  As he approached the cottage, he saw a child with flaming copper locks. Her plaited hair swung wildly as she leapt after a fleeing frog. She grabbed the frog in mid-jump, but as she seized it, her gaze landed on the visiting stranger. When her eyes met Joseph's, she lost her grip on the amphibian, who slipped from her palms and sprang to freedom.

  “Good day, child.” Joseph swept his hat from his head as he greeted her.

  Her reply was timid. “Hello, sir...”

  As he drew closer, he saw a slight smudge on her nose—or was it a scattering of freckles? Either way, he thought it was charming. Was she a servant's child or was she the offspring of quality? Joseph could not discern her status from her dress. Her clothes were somewhat modish, but she was rather unkempt.

  “Who are you, sir?” the red-haired child asked.

  “Major Morley,” he quietly replied. “I have a message for Miss Marie Sutton.”

  “My aunt.” The child gazed at him with wonderment in her eyes, which made him wonder if she noticed the scars.

  “My sister,” a third voice suddenly entered the conversation. When he turned in the direction of the cottage, he saw a young lady emerge. She wore her dark auburn hair in a tight bun, and as she approached, she dried her hands on her empire-waisted apron. “You have business with my sister?”

  “A letter,” he replied. “If you don't mind, I would prefer to speak to her first.”

  “I... see.” The handsome woman narrowed her eyes mistrustfully. “Very well... Major Morley. If you would like to come inside, I will fetch my sister shortly.”

  “What happened to your face?” the child suddenly asked. “It looks scary.”

  Though her candor made the major chuckle, the unnamed woman was less than amused. “Phoebe!” she roared. “How terribly rude! You mustn't make such rude observations!”

  “Sorry, mama.” The girl named Phoebe lowered her eyes to the ground as her mother chided her.

  “Apologize to the gentleman,” her mother demanded.

  “I'm sorry, Major Morley.”

  “It is quite alright. Her words did not trouble me. In truth, even since I returned, I have grown accustomed to similar reactions. In England, people are much more shocked to see a man whose face is partially consumed by scars.”

  “You fought in the war?” the mother asked. She motioned for him to follow as she made her way toward the cottage.

  “Indeed. And I was injured quite severely, which is why I have returned,” he explained. “And, as I said, I have news for your sister.”

  “This news of yours... it is not good?”

  “It is the very worst, I am afraid.”

  As they entered the cottage, Phoebe followed. They must have been moving too slowly for her, because she dashed ahead of Major Morley with a giggle.

  “Phoebe!” her mother chided her again. “Where are your manners? Honestly!” When the young mother glanced back at the major, she shook her head with disbelief. “She is not usually so uncouth, I assure you. Your arrival has made her so devilish!”

  “It does not bother me. Having been raised with three younger brothers, I am quite used to uproarious children,” he said. “Miss... you have me at a disadvantage. Might I inquire your name?”

  “Amanda Bowden,” she answered. “And before you ask why I have chosen to live in my brother's cottage, allow me to satisfy your curiosity. I am a widow of meager means. When he passed, my husband left me with nearly nothing.”

  “I was not going to ask such a question,” the major said. “But thank you for sating my curiosity nonetheless.”

  “It is not an insult to my husband... or it was not meant as such.”

  “Fear not, I did not think you meant to insult him.”

  “He was... something of a gambler,” Mrs. Bowden continued. “At the end of his life, he had amassed a rather substantial debt.”

  “Ah.” Joseph did not know how to respond when she shared such intimate details of her life. He wondered if she was lonely. She was living in a secluded cottage, likely with very few visitors. Perhaps the young widow was desperate for someone to listen? After a short pause, he added, “I am very sorry to hear about your husband. That is very unfortunate.”

  Suddenly, Phoebe dashed toward the major and took his hand in hers. When her mother saw her holding the stranger's hand, she rolled her eyes and exclaimed, “Phoebe!”

  “Yes, mama?” the little girl said with a sigh. Though her mother was undoubtedly displeased, she tightened her grip on Joseph's hand. He simply laughed, shook his head, and allowed her to hold it.

  “You mustn't trouble the major so!”

  “I'm not troubling him!” the child defended herself. “I'm not troubling you, am I Mr. Major?”

  “Not at all, dear girl. Not at all.” At two and thirty, Joseph was a confirmed bachelor with no children of his own. Getting immediately adored by Phoebe was not particularly unpleasant.

  “Even though your face looks like that...” Phoebe began, “I'll still like you, Mr. Major.”

  “Oh, Phoebe.” Though her mother did not shout her name this time, she was clearly exasperated. “You are truly insufferable today! When Major Morley takes his leave, you and I shall have a rather lengthy discussion about tact.”

  They eventually entered the drawing room, where Joseph was instructed to wait on the settee. Mrs. Bowden offered him tea, which he politely refused. When she left the room in search of her sister, he lightly patted the pocket of his greatcoat, where Charles Sedgeford's awful letter was stowed. As the moment drew closer, he dreaded it more and more.

  A few minutes later, both sisters entered. While the older sister might have been described as handsome, the younger sister, Marie Sutton, was an extraordinary beauty. His friend had described his fiance as a dark-haired angel, and he had not exaggerated. Marie had eyes like sapphires, hair like a starless night sky, and luminous alabaster skin. She possessed the sort of beauty that one often encountered in fairy tales, but rarely in real life.

  Major Morley rose to his feet when the ladies entered. When Amanda asked her daughter to leave, she happily obeyed—more than likely, Phoebe was eager to catch more unsuspecting frogs.

  “Miss Sutton, I presume?” Joseph approached the younger woman with a smile.

  “Indeed. And you are Major Joseph Morley.” When she saw his surprised expression, Marie quickly added, “My sister informed me of your name... and even then, I might have guessed, because Charles mentioned you in his letters quite often.”

  “Did he?”

  “Yes.” As she spoke, Marie's head appeared to be shrinking between her shoulders. Was she aware of the dire news he had been tasked to deliver? “He sang your praises often.”

  “Not as often as he sang yours, I am sure. Captain Sedgeford adored you. Truly.”

  “Adored.” Marie's lower lip trembled as she repeated the word. “And now... he is dead?”

  “Though it pains me to say it... you are correct.” He could see tears immediately forming in the young woman's eyes. Though her expression did not waver, the tears were a telltale sign of her pain. “Charles Sedgeford, my dear friend, passed away not long ago.”

  “I... see.” Marie's hands were clenching at her sides. When her sister attempted to wrap an arm around her shoulders, Marie stepped away from the embrace. She was in no mood for affection of any sort. “I suspected this day might come.”

  “I am very sorry, Miss Sutton. I can only imagine how you must feel,” the major attempted to offer condolences. Her jaw twitched, but still, she did not show emotion on her face. She was surprisingly stoic—and possibly numb. “I have a letter for you.” As he produced the missive from his pocket, he said, “Charles' last wish was that I deliver it to you.”

  “Then it is with gratitude that I accept it.” Her fingers quivered as she took the letter from his outstretched hand.

  “As much as I would like to leave you to mourn, there is something I must explain...” Joseph waited for her to res
pond, but when she did not, he continued, “Charles and I both suffered grave injuries, and I was with him in his final moments. He clung to life for several days, and as he did, he thought only of you.”

  “Thank you, Major Morley...” Marie started to turn away from, “but I am not sure I care to hear this.”

  “No. You must. It is a matter of great importance.” Joseph exchanged nervous glances with the older sister. When he saw Amanda nodding slightly, he was encouraged to continue. “Charles wrote many letters before he died, and as he wrote them, he gave me very specific instructions. On this day, every year, I am supposed to deliver one of his letters. Each one is meant to be a reminder of his love for you. He thought it would give you comfort, that it would be as if he never left you. In this way, he thought he could stay with you throughout your life... in some small way, at least.”

  “I suppose that was... very thoughtful of him. And if you agreed to deliver his letters, that is very kind of you, Major Morley.” Marie drew a deep breath and held it for several seconds. As soon as it was expelled, she said, “Nevertheless, I am not certain I know how to respond.”

  “Perhaps you need some time alone?” Her sister suggested.

  “Perhaps.” Marie could feel her tears gathering in her eyes. Before they fell—and they inevitably would—she hurried to the door and quickly said, “It was a pleasure to meet you, Major.”

  Amanda and Joseph exchanged worried glances as Marie fled from the room. They could hear her footsteps receding down the hallway, and when she reached the corridor's end, she finally exploded. They heard her erupt with a massive sob, so loud and full of sorrow that it sent shivers down the major's spine.

  “A part of me wants to go to her,” Amanda whispered, “But I know she would prefer to be alone.”

  “That is for the best, I am sure,” Joseph agreed. “She has just received the shock of her life. Terrible. So very terrible.”

  “I am afraid my sister and I were both cursed with poor luck.” As she spoke, Amanda's eyes drifted to the major's scars. She quickly looked away, afraid to offend him. In truth, the tangle of scars on his face truly was quite a distraction. “I lost my husband... and now she has lost her fiance.”