The Captain's Letters

by Caylen McQueen

  Phoebe immediately dropped her stick and feigned innocence. She slowly turned in her aunt's direction and faked a smile.

  “Do not hit that young man!” Marie exclaimed. “It is no way to treat a friend. That is very poor behavior!”

  “He's not my friend!” Phoebe whined.

  “Nevertheless, it is beyond rude,” Marie's reprimand continued. “And now you owe the boy an apology, for many reasons!”

  Defiant Phoebe did not heed her aunt's request—she did not offer an apology, she simply charged up the hill to join Major Morley and her aunt. Phoebe's red curls bobbed charmingly with each step that she took; as adorable as she was, it was impossible to stay angry with her. “Who was your friend?” her aunt asked.

  “Edward Rhodes,” Phoebe replied with a wrinkled nose. “And I already told you he is not my friend! He's a boy!”

  “And is it really so impossible to befriend a boy?” Major Morley asked. “I thought you liked me well enough!”

  “But you're not a boy, you're old!” Phoebe said, and went to stand behind the major.

  When Marie realized her niece was attempting to drop a bug in Joseph's hair, she shrieked. “Phoebe, don't you dare!”

  Phoebe did not seem to mind that she was caught. Snickering, she returned the beetle to her pocket and sat beside Joseph on his blanket.

  “Quite a mischief-maker, you are,” Joseph observed. “A veritable minx.”

  “What's a minx?” Phoebe asked. “Is that a cat?”

  “No, not a cat. A minx is a terrible girl, such as yourself.” Joseph winked at her.

  “Mr. Major, can I tell you a secret?”

  “Of course.” Joseph glanced over at Marie, wondering if the girl's aunt would be privy to the secret as well. “As it happens, I am a rather good secret keeper.”

  “Well...” Phoebe flicked one of her small fingers in the direction of her mother, who was sitting not too far away. Gregory Maitland had been at Amanda's side all day, undoubtedly doting on her. “Do you see that man sitting with my mama?”

  “I do indeed.”

  “I don't like him,” Phoebe bluntly confessed.

  Marie, who also heard the confession, suddenly raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. We should consider my niece's words very carefully, Mr. Morley,” Marie said. “Children are often a better judge of character than we are.”

  “Truthfully, little Miss Bowden...” As Joseph addressed Phoebe, he leaned closer to her and lowered his voice to a whisper. “I only spoke to him for a moment, but I did not care for him either. I am, as it happens, very interested in your opinion.”

  “He's annoying!” Phoebe's voice was much louder, as if she did not care about being overheard. “He thinks he's funny, but he's not. He doesn't like cats, he acts like he's too important, and I don't like the way he laughs.”

  “Such a fascinating assessment!” Joseph said, and flashed a smile in Marie's direction. She looked surprisingly amused. Her niece's criticism of her sister's beau brought new life to her eyes.

  “So... I hate him,” Phoebe said with a shrug, not caring that the word was decidedly harsh. “I think he wants to marry Mama, but if he marries her, I'm going to run away.”

  Joseph shook his head with disbelief, and with a chuckle, he said, “Oh, you mustn't do that!”

  “Perhaps you could marry her instead?” Phoebe idly suggested. “Your scars are scary, but you seem kind.”

  “I will... certainly take that into consideration.” Before the scars consumed his face, no one would have described him as scary. The next time he glanced at Marie, her gaze was pitying. He wondered if she would chide her niece, as her mother did, but she did not. The child could have certainly benefited from a lesson in restraint, but it was not his place to disapprove of her behavior.

  Before Joseph could utter another word, they were suddenly approached by an unfamiliar gentleman. Marie did not seem alarmed by his approach, so Joseph assumed he was, at the very least, an acquaintance of hers.

  “Good day, Miss Sutton,” the unfamiliar man greeted her with a bow. “I did not want to depart until I had an opportunity to speak with you... and to offer you my condolences. I cannot begin to fathom your pain.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Sedgeford. Your kind words are much appreciated.” When she saw Joseph's perplexed expression, she quickly explained, “This is Julian Sedgeford, the younger brother of Charles.”

  “Ah, I see! Charles spoke of you often.” Joseph sprang to his feet and shook the other man's hand. “I was a friend of his, recently returned from France.”

  “A pleasure,” Julian replied. He was a remarkably average man, of moderate height and breadth, with a square jaw, dark eyes, and long hair. “It is always a pleasure to meet anyone who knew my brother.”

  “Your brother was a good man.” Joseph feared he had forced his way into the conversation; Julian Sedgeford likely wanted a moment with his brother's fiance. He flashed a slight smile at Phoebe before politely excusing himself.

  When Julian sat beside Marie, Phoebe immediately moved behind him and attempted to wind his hair into a plait.

  “Phoebe!” Marie gasped. “I am terribly sorry, Mr. Sedgeford. My sister's child can be very... vexing.”

  “You needn't apologize. Children amuse me,” Julian assured her. “If she wants to meddle with my hair, I won't object.”

  “How very patient of you. I am not sure I would be half as tolerant.” Marie's eyes were narrowed as she watched Phoebe fuss with the poor man's hair. At the first opportunity, she would have to inform her sister of her daughter's inexcusable manners.

  “As I was saying...” Julian Sedgeford continued. “I was very sorry to hear of my brother's passing. You must be heartbroken. I know, without question, he adored you.”

  “Indeed. And I adored him.” Marie felt tears burning behind her eyes, so she glanced away before they could be shed. “I loved your brother very much.”

  “Everyone loved Charles. It was impossible not to love him,” Julian said. “Although... the love you shared was certainly special.”

  “Your brother adored you too. He could not have asked for a better friend.” Marie felt her throat constricting as her tears continued to build. “Did you know... he wrote many letters before he died? I am supposed to receive one, every year, for...” She briefly chewed on her lower lip. “I am not certain how long I will receive them, but the thought of it is...”

  “Truly incredible,” Julian finished her thought. “It sounds like something my brother would do. I am sure, in his last moments, all of his thoughts were with you.”

  “Perhaps...” Marie looked down at her hands, where they were tightly folded in her lap. “And for the rest of my life... all of my thoughts will be with him.”

  Chapter Five

  “Your hair is like a sunset at its darkest hour, alight with deepest red. Or... perhaps it is like the embers of a dying flame?”

  As her beau attempted analogies for her hair, Amanda simply smiled. However, her smile was as disingenuous as the words from his lips. None of what he said sounded real or genuine. Gregory Maitland was attempting to write a poem with his compliments, but she would have preferred a normal, polite conversation.

  “Or perhaps it is like wine?” Mr. Maitland continued. “Dark, vivid wine!”

  She simply smiled again, for she did not know how to respond. Neither agreeing nor disagreeing seemed sufficient. With a sigh, she tugged her straw bonnet from her head and used it to fan her flaming cheeks. Why did the picnic have to fall on such an uncommonly humid day?

  “And your eyes...” Mr. Maitland continued. “They are like nothing I have ever beheld on this earth. Your eyes are like golden diamonds. Shining. Priceless.”

  “That is... very kind of you,” Amanda sounded a bit unsure of her reply, but that fact seemed to go unnoticed by her doting beau. “You are, of course, a very handsome man as well.”

  “You are more than handsome, more than pretty,” Mr. Maitland unabashedly continued. “You are ethe
real.”

  Amanda instinctively wrinkled her nose at her Spanish coin-spewing beau. Though some part of her appreciated his compliments, another part of her was annoyed and incredulous. While she might have been described as handsome, it was always assumed that her sister was the pretty one. Amanda was, at best, passably pretty. Being a lady, however, she could do naught but accept his compliments with a smile, even as she longed to deny them. After a brief pause, she finally replied, “You are far too kind.”

  “I could never be too kind, Mrs. Bowden. You deserve every compliment in the world, and more.”

  “I won't argue with the man.” When another man's voice entered the conversation, her heart leapt with alarm. “She is a very lovely lady.”

  When Amanda turned around and saw Major Morley standing over her, she breathed a sigh of secret relief. Though she had not known him as long, she already knew his company was preferable to the company of the man sitting beside her. She wished the major would save her. “Ah, Major Morley! It is very good to see you again. Would you care to join us?”

  “Join you? Hmm.” The major rubbed his bristled chin as he considered the possibility. “To be quite honest, I was hoping I might steal you away.”

  Amanda tried not to appear overly excited by the prospect, but a grin on her lips betrayed her. “Ah, I see. I would not mind being stolen... if, of course, Mr. Maitland does not object.”

  If his pinched brow was any indication, Gregory most certainly did object, but his words said otherwise. “Of course. You may go wherever you would like. I have already enjoyed your company for the majority of the afternoon... I suppose I could share my good fortune with someone else.”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Joseph tipped his hat to the other gentleman as he spoke. As soon as Amanda was on her feet, he took her by the arm and led her away from Mr. Maitland, and away from the crowd. When they were alone, he pulled a small yellow daffodil from his pocket and presented it to her.

  “Is that... for me?”

  “Certainly, Mrs. Bowden,” he answered with a chuckle. “For what other reason would I be dangling this flower beneath your nose? It is a gift for you, of course... albeit a small one.”

  “Then... I thank you.” She took the flower between two fingers and held it aloft, admiring its brilliantly colored petals. “I hope it is not presumptuous to say it is a very... romantic gesture?”

  “Not presumptuous in the least,” Joseph answered with a wink.

  “I cannot remember the last time I was handed a flower... in particular, by a gentleman.” Amanda's nose wrinkled as she tried to recall it. “Honestly, if it ever happened, I am afraid I do not remember.”

  “The way your nose wrinkles when you are deep in thought.” He lightly tapped the tip of her nose with his fingertip. “Adorable.”

  “Is it?” His compliment intensified the wrinkle on her nose, as if she did not believe him.

  “It is! Your tiny wrinkled nose is nearly as fetching as your eyes.” One side of his mouth tilted into a smirk. “Your golden diamond eyes.”

  Her subsequent groan was impressively guttural. “Oh dear. You heard that?”

  “I'm afraid I did, Mrs. Bowden. I did not mean to eavesdrop, but he was speaking rather loudly.”

  “Golden diamonds...” Amanda repeated with a sigh. “I struggle to understand how one's eyes can be both gold and diamond.”

  “Perhaps your eyes are so exuberant, an entirely new remark was necessary to describe them.”

  “He can be a bit... ridiculous,” Amanda confessed, sighing yet again.

  “That dandy is dangling after you like a lovesick mooncalf. I suppose you are fortunate to have such an ardent admirer?”

  Amanda looked down at the ground, where her slippers indolently shuffled through the blades of grass. For some inexplicable reason, the major's words depressed her. It almost sounded as if he was praising the dandy for his dedication—but what of Major Morley himself? If his flower was not meant as a romantic gesture, why did he not deny that it was?

  When her gaze returned to him, she studied his hair. Windswept and disheveled, his crop of messy black hair was oddly alluring. Even with his scars, Amanda thought he was a handsome man. “Did you... enjoy the picnic?” she asked him.

  “Very much so. Although I would have enjoyed it much more if I had been blessed with your company the entire time.”

  Amanda's stomach tightened at his words. His tone was so lighthearted, she was almost certain that he was teasing her.

  “And...” he continued, “Only twelve people stared at my scars. It could have been far worse, I am sure.”

  “Twelve?”

  “I am being sarcastic.” He glanced over at her and winked. “It was more like twenty, certainly.”

  “It is odd that you can joke about something so... disheartening,” Amanda said. “Odd, but refreshing.”

  “I assure you, missing half of my face is depressing, but I cannot let it break me. Far too many men are altered when they return from the horrors war. They are shattered, broken men. I cannot let myself become one of them.”

  “I like the man you are,” Amanda's heart was curiously racing as she confessed how she felt. “I hope you are never altered, Mr. Morley.”

  “Never.” He turned in the direction of the hillside, where the picnickers were gathered. “I must say, Mrs. Bowden, your daughter is adorable... but also quite terrible.”

  “Dare I ask... what is the reason for your opinion?”

  “To begin with, she attempted to put a beetle in my hair.”

  The girl's mother sounded aghast. “Did she?”

  “She did.”

  “Oh, Phoebe...” Amanda shook her head with disbelief. “First frogs, now beetles? I fear my daughter has become a bit of a hoyden, and I don't quite know how to discipline her. I think, perhaps, she has suffered from not having a father.”

  “I do not mean to suggest you could replace your husband easily... but perhaps you might find a new father for her?” Joseph suggested with a shrug. “Mr. Maitland, perhaps?”

  Hearing him suggest Gregory Maitland as a husband made her groan. She had hoped he might think of Gregory as a rival—clearly, she was mistaken.

  “Judging from the noise of immense displeasure that erupted from your throat... poor Mr. Maitland is out of luck?”

  “Marrying him is not out of the question,” Amanda confessed. “I simply... I wish...”

  “You wish... what, Mrs. Bowden?” The major's eyebrow raised as he awaited her answer.

  After a brief pause, she finally finished her thought. “I wish I could find a husband that my daughter truly liked.”

  Like you, Joseph Morley—whispered a very secret voice in her head.

  Chapter Six

  As she danced her second quadrille with Gregory Maitland, Amanda felt her gaze being pulled in the direction of Major Morley. For what was supposed to be a small country fete, it was quite a crush, so it was nothing short of a miracle that she managed to seek him out in the crowded Assembly Room. Though she tried to focus her attention on the beau in front of her, her eyes were determined to seek out someone else.

  When the steps of the dance brought them closer, Mr. Maitland asked, “Are you alright, my dear?”

  “Quite,” she lied.

  “You appear to be distracted... or woolgathering, perhaps,” her beau observed. “I hope your attention is not so otherwise engaged that you trip on the hem of your gown.”

  “Never!” Her brow furrowed at the suggestion. Gregory Maitland was far clumsier than she—in fact, he was practically notorious for it. On the day she met him, his hat was whisked from his head by the wind, and she watched him chase the tumbling accessory through the park.

  “If you do stumble,” he continued, “please stumble into my arms. I will happily catch you!”

  Amanda pursed her lips and withheld her reply. She wished he had not made such a scandalous remark in front of strangers. When the dance finally ended, she breathed a quiet
sigh of relief. However, the end of the dance did not mean the end of his company. He led her away from the dance floor and continued to cling to her arm, as if having staked his claim on her.

  Unfortunately, Mr. Maitland's company was likely the only company she would have. Her sister, still in mourning, could not attend. Living so far from town, Amanda was acquainted with very few people, and the few she knew were otherwise engaged. She longed for Joseph's company, but he acted as if she did not exist. Presently, Major Morley was standing at the opposite end of the room, energetically conversing with two young ladies. His scarred face did not seem to deter them—his charm made it easy to overlook his flaws. Amanda assumed he was acting jovial and flirtatious with them, just as he was jovial and flirtatious with her. Why had she been foolish enough to think she was special?

  “Mrs. Bowden?” Gregory attempted to recapture her attention. “Your distraction is written plainly on your face. A penny for your thoughts?”

  “I...” As she hesitated, Amanda forced her gaze away from the exasperating Major. “I would rather not say.”

  “It is your sister, is it not?” he incorrectly surmised. “Her sadness weighs heavily on your mind.”

  “Her sorrow is never far from my thoughts,” Amanda replied—which was true enough.

  “I believe I know what might improve your mood, my dear...” He swept a lock of hair behind her ear as he finished his thought. “A third dance with me.”

  “Three dances? Oh, we mustn't do that. With so much of your attention focused on me, people might assume we are engaged.”

  “And would that be such an unpleasant assumption? Surely you know of my intentions, Mrs. Bowden. I intend to--”

  “We mustn't dance again, Mr. Maitland,” Amanda interrupted, putting the thought to rest. Her answer was so resolute, she left no room to object.

  “Very well.” He turned his nose in the direction of the ceiling—a decidedly haughty gesture. “Then I suppose I must take my leave. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  Though she did not regret parting company with him, as soon as he was gone, she was suddenly very aware of how lonely she was. It would have been much less unnerving if her sister was at her side. Of course, she did not blame Marie for her absence. It would likely be a very long time before she returned to society.