“Terribly unfortunate,” he agreed again. “I wish there was something I could do to ease your suffering.”
“Oh, her suffering is admittedly far worse than mine. My husband has been dead for two years. And... would it be very terrible to say I did not love him? I admired him, of course, but I did not love him as my sister loved her captain. My only true regret is that my daughter will be raised without her father.”
“The truth should never be terrible. The truth is the truth. You should always be honest with yourself and others.”
“Perhaps.” Amanda crossed her arms with a sigh. “I do not know why I am so frank with you, Major Morley. Perhaps you have a friendly face.”
“And a warm smile,” he added with a smirk. “I have always been told that I have an exceptionally warm smile.”
“Then that must be the reason for my candor, I am certain.” She returned his smile, but only for a moment. “I feel terrible for my sister. Truly terrible.”
“As do I. In the days to come, she will require your friendship more than ever.”
“Indeed.” Amanda went to the settee and sat. She was tempted to cry on her sister's behalf, but not in front of the major. Like her sister, she was determined to remain strong in the presence of others. “But who shall I turn to for friendship? At times, I feel so... alone.”
“Perhaps I could return?” Joseph suggested. “For I, too, find myself in need of a friend.”
“I would like that very much, Major Morley.” Though her heart was crushed under the weight of tremendous sadness, Amanda somehow managed another smile. “I would like that very much indeed.”
Chapter Three
“Marie!” Amanda tried to sound as pleasant as possible as she entered her sister's bedchamber. “I brought tea!” She held up the tray, hoping to direct Marie's attention to the gold-plated teapot she carried. However, Marie did not react, nor did she budge from the blankets into which she was burrowed.
“Thank you, Amanda.” Marie was hardly in the mood for tea. In the last two days, she had eaten very little—only a few carrots, a biscuit, and a rather small apple. Though she appreciated her sister's effort, tea time required good spirits that she simply did not possess, and likely never would.
Amanda laid the tray on a table beside her sister's bed and asked, “Would you like me to pour it for you?”
“You needn't do that. I can manage well enough on my own.” Marie hoped she did not sound too harsh. Her sister was a gentle soul, and Marie was determined to treat her with kindness, despite being utterly heartbroken.
“I wish there was something I could do or say to take away your anguish.” Amanda sat beside her younger sister and gently stroked her hair. “But I know there is not.”
“There isn't,” Marie agreed. “Though I appreciate your effort.”
“You have not left this room in two days.” Amanda sighed as she spoke. “I will not force you to emerge before you are ready, but I will say I miss you terribly.”
Marie wanted to assure her sister that she would soon recover, but it would have been a lie. Her entire body was so thoroughly saturated with sorrow that she could not rise from bed, let alone, reenter the world. Marie was so emotionally overwrought, she could not even move her lips to apologize for her idleness.
“Have you read Captain Sedgeford's letter?” Amanda asked.
“I... have not,” Marie confessed. “The idea of it is too painful. Too distressing.”
“But are you not curious?”
Marie's head rose from her pillow, and she briefly sent a frown in her sister's direction. “Of course I am curious,” she said. “I am simply not prepared to handle his words, knowing he will never return.”
“I understand, dear. I will not ask you again, nor will I force you out of bed. You may mourn as long as you must, and I will never judge you.”
As her head sank into her pillow, Marie said softly, “Leave me.”
“Very well. I shall.” Though she complied with her sister's demand, her own heart felt the weight of her sister's sadness. How could she ever be happy when her favorite person was so irreparably blue-deviled?
Before her sister passed through the door, Marie spoke again. “Amanda?”
The elder sister paused in the doorway. “Yes?”
“Losing him has been a struggle. I have never been more... crushed.” A single tear—her first of the day—fell from her eye and dripped onto her pillow. “I will never love again. I never want to love again. If I have learned anything, it is that love can lead to immeasurable pain. Such pain is not worth any joy that might have preceded it.”
Amanda wanted to reply with some encouraging words, but she had none to offer. With a sigh, she quietly passed through the doorway and into the hall, where she was approached by one of the maids. They could no longer afford the services of a butler, so it was a maid who informed her of the arrival of a visitor: Major Joseph Morley. As she made her way to the drawing room, she was surprised by how eager she was to see him. She was, after all, somewhat lonely. Without her sister's companionship, Amanda had only her daughter for company.
Her daughter had apparently formed an attachment to the major as well. When Amanda entered the drawing room, she saw Phoebe sitting next to Joseph on the settee. On his shoulder, there was a small brown monkey, whose small paws toiled in the major's disheveled dark hair.
“Look, mama!” Phoebe excitedly exclaimed. “A monkey!”
“So I see.” Amanda's brow was pinched with concern as she studied the foreign creature. “I wasn't aware that we had two visitors. I believe you owe me an introduction, Major Morley.”
“This is Bosh,” Joseph said. As he spoke, he removed the animal from his shoulder and placed him on his lap. However, the monkey was not content with his forced relocation. He immediately sprang from Joseph's lap into Phoebe's.
“And how did this Bosh come into your possession?” Amanda asked. She was not thrilled by the presence of the creature, who was now plucking at a ribbon on her daughter's dress. Phoebe, however, looked so delighted by Bosh's presence that Amanda could not protest.
“On my voyage back to England, I met an old Indian man at one of the ports,” Joseph explained. “He was ailing and could no longer take care of his furry friend. He nearly begged me to take him.”
“Ah. And is the monkey very troublesome?” Amanda asked. Her eyes were still filled with mistrust as she watched the unwelcome guest. As unsure of him as she was, Bosh made Phoebe giggle, and Amanda could not complain about such results. Ever since the death of her father, Phoebe's laughter was sadly infrequent.
“Not at all,” Joseph answered her question. “He is usually a mild-mannered companion... aside from his unfortunate fascination with hair.” As if proving Joseph's point, the monkey leapt onto Phoebe's shoulder and proceeded to wind his paws through her red tresses. “See? He is demonstrating that fascination as we speak.”
“That tickles!” Phoebe exclaimed through giggles.
“You get accustomed to it,” Joseph said. “He's fussed with my hair so many times, I barely notice him sifting through it.”
“Well... regardless of your strange companion, it is very good to see you again, Mr. Morley,” Amanda said. “I am afraid my hospitality is lacking. Would you like some tea, perhaps?”
“It is not necessary. I came to inquire about your sister. Have her spirits improved, even a bit?” When he saw Amanda's frown, he added, “Your expression tells me the situation is dire.”
“Indeed. Very dire.” For a moment, Amanda watched her daughter play with Bosh. The monkey swung from her arm and blissfully nudged his cheek against her hand. Phoebe knew about her aunt's sadness—but she did not need to know the details. “Phoebe?”
“Yes, Mama?”
“Would you take Bosh into the garden for a bit?” Amanda turned her attention back to the major and asked, “You would not mind if Bosh accompanied her, would you?”
“Not at all.”
Phoebe se
emed delighted to relocate with her new friend. She cradled him in her arm like a baby, then skipped out of the room. Bosh seemed friendly enough, but nevertheless, the mother's eyes were filled with worry.
“He does not bite, does he?” she asked. “Can you assure me I have no reason to be apprehensive?”
“I've never known Bosh to bite anything. He's really quite docile.”
“Good. Then I shall take you at your word.” Amanda sat beside him on the settee and slowly expelled a breath. “In truth, I... I am desperate for real conversation. I desperately need to speak to another adult.”
“And I shall be happy to listen,” Joseph promised her. “I thought you might need a friend. In fact, that was the true reason for my visit.”
“Ah. Good. Then I hope you are prepared, for I have much to say.” When she turned toward him, Joseph saw tears in her eyes. He wondered how long she had been holding her emotions inside of her. “My sister has not left her room in days. She refuses to eat. She hardly speaks, and she has yet to read the letter you delivered.”
“I am sure she will, in time,” said Joseph. “Everyone mourns differently, and everyone heals at a different pace.”
“True, but I worry for her health. If she does not eat, will she make herself ill? Worrying about her is making me ill. Last night, sleep was scarce. I keep wondering if there is something I could do or say, but words fail me.”
“Be a good sister to her. Be a friend.” As Joseph stared into her amber eyes, he swore he saw flecks of green in them. They were a very fetching color—and they were an unwelcome distraction. “I am sure she would ask for nothing more than that.”
“I am sure you are correct. Even so, I feel so helpless. I watch her suffer, and there is nothing I can do to assuage her suffering. It makes me feel... insufficient.”
“I am sure you are more than sufficient,” Joseph disagreed with her. “The fact that you are so concerned with your sister's well-being is very telling.”
“I am five years older than my sister,” Amanda suddenly confessed. “It makes me feel rather protective of her.”
“I feel quite the same way about my younger siblings.”
For a moment, Amanda closed her eyes and tried to remember happier times. They seemed so distant, she could barely recall them. “Thank you for listening to me, Mr. Morley. I was desperate for someone—anyone—to listen to me speak.”
“Anyone?” The word made him chuckle. “And here I had flattered myself into thinking I was your chosen one.”
“Oh... I certainly did not mean it that way! I... I did not mean to demean you in any way! I am glad you are here. I am glad it was you. I--”
“I was teasing you, Mrs. Bowden,” Joseph interrupted, chuckling. “As for being the one who gets to listen to you speak... I am honored. Truly.”
“I...” As her voice trailed off, Amanda caught herself staring at the scars on his face. And she must have been staring at the scars too intently, because Joseph noticed too.
“Do the scars interest you?”
“Oh. I'm terribly sorry...” Amanda quickly looked away, then turned her attention to her fidgeting hands. “I suppose I was... curious.”
“You are curious about the scars on my face?” Joseph's fingers lightly stroked the mangled mass of flesh on his right cheek. “A lesser man might be ashamed of them, but I'm not a lesser man.” He tried to wink at her, but she missed it. After he caught her staring, she was too ashamed to look at him. “If you have a question, you are more than welcome to ask.”
“The injury that gave you the scars... it was fairly recent, was it not?”
“It was.”
“Does it...” Amanda nervously tapped the tips of her fingers together as she forced the question from her lips. It was truly none of her business—and yet she was concerned. “Does it still cause you pain?”
“On occasion,” he replied. “The worst of my pain is over. At one time, however, the pain was unimaginable.” He saw her nod, but she said nothing. “When I realized the wound was going to leave scars, I remember feeling quite depressed. But now... I have learned to live with it. My appearance no longer troubles me... although people do seem quite taken with the scars. I attract more stares from the fairer sex than ever before.”
This time, she lifted her head just in time to catch him winking. “You are surprisingly jovial about it. I admire the strength I see in you.”
“There is no sense in torturing myself about my ruined appearance. If anything, I am even more handsome than I was before.” When he saw her brow pinching with confusion, he added with a chuckle, “And I am teasing you again, of course.”
“Ah.” Amanda could feel his eyes on her, and as he studied her, heat flooded her cheeks. Major Morley had proven to be a kind gentleman and a good listener—nevertheless, there was something about his company that made her inexplicably nervous. “There is to be a family picnic in three days' time,” she told him. “Getting my sister to attend shall be quite a challenge.”
“She should go,” the major said. “She needs a moment to escape her sorrows. She could benefit from the company of friends.”
“Would you go?” Her eyes were pleading with him. “You have been so kind... and I could also benefit from a friend.”
Amanda looked so pitiful, declining her invitation was an impossibility. However, it would be his first outing since returning to England, and his face would likely attract more curious stares than ever. Though he gave others the impression that he was a strong man, he hoped he was emotionally equipped to handle judgment from so many. After a brief pause, he answered with some hesitation, “I will go.”
“Thank you, Mr. Morley. Truly, I cannot possibly thank you enough! I am practically a stranger, yet you seem to care for me more than most.”
“I do care,” he said. “Always.”
Amanda meant to reply, but an interruption from a maid prevented her from doing so. Another visitor had arrived: Mr. Gregory Maitland.
“A suitor of yours?” Joseph asked.
“I... suppose you could call him a...” Amanda hesitated. Why was she so reluctant to admit the truth? “He is a suitor, yes.”
“Then perhaps I should take my leave.” Joseph promptly rose from his seat, reclaimed his walking stick, and bowed. “Good day to you, Mrs. Bowden.”
“Oh... you needn't leave!” Amanda tried to protest. “I quite enjoy your company, Mr. Morley. More than I enjoy the company of--”
A young man entered the room before she could complete her thought. He was a tall, blonde, fair-skinned man with a priggish air about him. He wore a brown greatcoat that was pale enough to be called yellow. Every hair on his head seemed to be meticulously arranged, which gave him the appearance of a dandy. Gregory Maitland was clearly a gentleman who preferred to be heavily groomed. Joseph, however, had barely combed his hair before leaving his house.
“Good day, Mrs. Bowden, good day!” the handsome dandy cheerfully exclaimed. “It is very good to see you again. I brought a book of poetry. I thought you might appreciate it, as I know how you adore poetry.” As he handed the book to Amanda, Mr. Maitland's gaze shifted to Major Morley. A few seconds later, his eyes inevitably probed his scarred face. “Who is your friend?”
“This is Major Joseph Morley,” Amanda said. “He is only a recent acquaintance, but... he has been a good friend.”
“And now Major Joseph Morley must take his leave,” Joseph added with a snort. “Farewell, Mrs. Bowden. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Maitland. Many apologies for my rushed departure.” He bowed to the other man, then left the room as quickly as he could.
As Joseph left, he heard the other man whimper, “Lud, what happened to that man's face?”
Chapter Four
“It is good that you attended, Miss Sutton,” Major Morley said to Marie as she indolently chewed on a bit of marmalade and bread. “Your sister feared you would not come.”
As usual, Marie's appetite was nearly nonexistent, but she forced hers
elf to eat to appease her worried friends. They seemed concerned for her health—which was a useless thing to fret about, in Marie's opinion. Presently, she did not care if she lived or died. “I did not want to come,” Marie confessed. “But I did not want to disappoint her. Truly, it is something of a miracle that I am here, Major. I can scarcely drag myself from bed, let alone, attend a picnic. Coping with Charles' death has gotten no easier.”
“You look well, however,” Joseph told her. “You have more color in your cheeks than you did before.”
“Do I?” Marie lightly tapped her face, which was warmed by the sun. They were sitting on a sprawling green hillside, basking in the light of a cloudless sky. It was a remarkably pleasant day, full of rare sunshine and breeze. If she did not feel so miserable, she might have enjoyed such a day.
“You do. You look lovely, if I may say so.”
“That is very kind of you. Even so, I feel horrid,” Marie said. “My eyes feel heavy, and my entire body aches. I long to return to the quiet confines of my bed.”
Marie turned her attention to the bottom of the hill, where her niece was playing with a boy of a similar age. Phoebe was swinging a stick in her hand, which made the young man flinch. When Phoebe started to prod the ground with her branch, Marie asked, “What is Phoebe doing? Do you have any idea?”
“Squashing bugs, perhaps?”
“Do you think so?”
“I would bet on it,” Joseph sounded certain. “When I spoke to her earlier, she was brutalizing a poor caterpillar.”
“Is she not too old for such... savage play?” Marie's nose wrinkled at the thought of it. “Amanda should tell her to cease this behavior.” When Phoebe started prodding her young male companion with her stick, Marie decided it was time to intervene. “Phoebe!”
The Captain's Letters Page 2
