Love Me Again

by Wendy M. Burge

  Still holding her son close, she came to her feet with the help of yet another faithful footman and walked up the steps. “Edward, my God, look at you! You look wonderful. When did this happen?”

  Smiling wryly, he looked down at Eddie, who was grinning so widely that he proudly showed off a gap in his front teeth. “This imp of Satan gave me choice. If I was going to keep up with him, he made it known I had best get off my unmentionable and start using my legs again. So here I am.” His expression turned to concern when he saw the utter exhaustion on her face. “You look horrid, my dear.”

  Chuckling, Christina shook her head. “Thank you, Edward, and yes, it is so good to be home!” She gave her son a smacking kiss on the cheek that set him off into giggles again. Then, looking down, he pointed at the tiny puppy scampering about.

  “Is it mine, Mama?” he asked excitedly.

  She loved her son to distraction, but she could not give up Tina's gift. “No, love, but you may play with her to your heart's content. I have enough presents to keep you more than satisfied.” Setting his restless body down, she went to Edward and embraced him, careful not to unbalance him. “Oh, Edward, how good it is to see you again. You have no idea how much I have missed you!”

  When she stepped back, he searched her face with a thoroughness that had her squirming as much as Eddie. It was obvious he didn't like what he was seeing, for he began to frown. “That bad, was it?” he queried with gentle concern.

  Flinching, she tried to quip lightly, “It was heaven and hell on earth. I am just so glad to be home. But Robert...” She cast an uneasy glance over her shoulder at her husband, whose stretcher was being maneuvered carefully out of the massive coach.

  Edward was also watching the transfer of his brother's inert body, and sorrow enveloped him. They had never been close, but seeing him wounded brought a sharp pain to his heart. “Don't worry anymore, Christina. Dr. Elliston is upstairs already, arranging Robert's room to best suit his convalescence. We will see him through this together.”

  Still watching her husband, she murmured, “I pray you are right, Edward.”

  “Papa?” Eddie's voice came from behind her, and looking down, she saw Eddie standing beside her with Katie in his arms. His huge eyes were on the unfamiliar sight of his father being carried up the stairs. Thankfully a sheet covered his body so that Eddie was spared the sight of his father's true condition.

  She heard Edward's voice as a mere whisper beside her. “I thought it best to tell Eddie about Waterloo, and how his father was coming home a great war hero.”

  Touched by his thoughtfulness, Christina nodded, then knelt down and drew her son into her arms. “Papa is not feeling too well yet, Eddie, but soon he will be up and around. Then he can tell you all about beating Nappy, and how he saved Wellington's life.”

  Instantly awed, Eddie tore his anxious gaze off his father and turned his excitement upon her. “Papa did that? He saved the general?” Wellington had been Eddie's hero since he had gotten his first pewter-cast soldier and had listened raptly to his uncle tell thrilling stories of the Iron Duke's heroism. That his own papa saved his life was thrilling beyond all expectation. Smiling, she eased his grip on little Katie. “He did indeed, my darling. You must be patient and let him get better, and then he will tell you everything.”

  Nodding, he assured her with endearing earnestness, “I promise, Mama.”

  Brushing his hair out of his eyes, she drank in the sight of him, thinking how much he had grown and how much she had missed. But she was back, and never would she leave him again. With a new spurt of optimism, she decided to believe Edward's assurances that all would be well. Robert would recover, and he still had his political career to pursue. They would be leaving for Kerkmoor soon, and once she was back in that beloved haven her life would be perfect again.

  Standing, she took Eddie's hand and began to follow Edward into the house when she paused and looked up at the sky. Wondering where Varek and Sergei were was as much a part of her day as waking up and going to sleep. Which only brought home to her the sad reality that her life could never be perfect without them by her side.

  * * * *

  “He will die,” Christina heard as she quietly opened the door. Unnoticed, she paused on the threshold and stared in dazed surprise at the doctor, who was sitting beside Edward in the darkly paneled library. The gloomy shadows about the room seemed to echo the doctor's bleak prognosis.

  “The doctors in Brussels said he would probably survive,” she challenged him when she finally found her wits. Leaving the door open, she hurried over to them and stationed herself behind the duke's chair.

  Rising to his feet, Dr. Elliston sketched her a bow before shrugging and responding with the resignation of his profession, “'Probably’ was the key word, my lady. It didn't help that he was jostled over rough roads for close to a week before he was able to heal completely.”

  Christina's hands gripped the back of the chair, and she looked away from the doctor, feeling guilty down to her soul. If Robert died it would be her fault; she hadn't had the strength to do what was best for Robert instead of bending to his will.

  “However, my lady, the amputation was doubtlessly done under the meanest of conditions, which is all too common during war. Infection most often sets in as soon as the filthy instruments touch the skin. There is also lead poisoning, depending on how long they waited till amputation. There are so many contributing factors that it would be impossible to narrow it down to a single reason why gangrene has spread to the degree it has. All I can tell you for certain is that Lord Basingstoke is in a terminal state of infection, and I will not horrify you by going into details. The damage done is irreversible.”

  “How long does he have?” Edward asked quietly.

  The doctor paused before rendering his opinion. “I would be surprised if he lives past the week. The only thing I would recommend at this point is to keep him heavily sedated, else the pain will be intolerable.”

  Christina's fingers clenched about Edward's shoulders, and reaching up, he covered one of her hands with his, his thin fingers holding hers firmly. Swallowing past the thickness in her throat, she asked weakly, “Can we move him?”

  Shrugging, the doctor assured her that at this point it wouldn't matter one way or the other. The room was silent for tense moments before Christina announced, “Then as soon as possible, preferably tomorrow morning, we will leave for Kerkmoor. It is where Robert wants to be.”

  Edward glanced at the doctor, who again simply shrugged, then agreed, “It shall be as you wish, my dear.”

  Without another word to either man, she walked out of the study. Closing the door behind her, she fell back against it and stared up the stairs, wondering how she was going to tell him. Should she? It worried her that she was not crying. She felt numb, so terribly numb that she didn't know what to feel. Rubbing her eyes, she thought how much she wanted to go to her room and lock the door and go to sleep for a week. She couldn't even dredge up guilt for the callousness of her thoughts upon learning of the eminent demise of her husband.

  Pushing away from the door, Christina slowly ascended the stairs, thinking that above all she needed to get Robert home, where he could die in peace. She was walking along the upper landing when the walls around her began to waver and shift. Stopping, she reached out a hand to steady herself; then, after a befuddled moment, she continued on. When she reached Robert's door, she paused with her hand on the latch, and suddenly she couldn't remember what she was doing there. In lethargic confusion she looked down at her hand, thinking that she was here to tell Robert something. Closing her eyes, she rubbed at the pounding pain in her temples and the burning behind her closed lids. When she opened her eyes again, she squinted as she pushed open the door and entered the dimly lit room. The first thing she noticed was Robert's labored breathing and as she approached the bed the putrid smell of gangrene became more pervasive in the stale air.

  A bit impatiently, she asked Helen, who was sitting at
Robert's bedside, to open a window and allow fresh air in. As Helen passed her, she paused to say softly, “He has been calling for you.” Christina gave a nod and asked her to leave. When the door closed softly, she moved to the bed, her lips tightening as she searched Robert's face for some sign of recovery. Of course there was none; instead he appeared worse than he had an hour ago. He was flushed and looked horribly bruised, his eyes sunken and the lids tinged almost black. Then she remembered with brutal clarity, her husband was dying.

  She must have made a sound, for his lids lifted slowly, and she watched as he focused on her with difficulty. The smile that stretched his lips appeared painful and almost ghoulish in his emaciated face. Hurrying to his side, she picked up his hot hand. His fingers curled about hers, but his grip was so weak that it was nonexistent.

  “I'm dying, aren't I?” his voice wavered weakly.

  Biting her lip, Christina nodded. Sighing, his eyes slid closed again, as if it expended too much energy to keep the heavy lids open. Sitting down on the bed close to him, she tried to ease him by saying, “I thought we would go to Kerkmoor tomorrow, if you feel you can bear the trip.”

  “I would walk through hell itself to go home,” he assured her with another ghost of a smile.

  Her own smile was so forced, she thought her face would crack. A strained silence settled between them, and as she frantically thought of something to say, she heard his voice feather over lips that barely moved.

  “As you can imagine, I've had nothing but time to think, and I have decided I am not proud of what I have done.”

  Leaning forward, she admonished him gently, “What foolishness are you talking about, my dear?”

  He opened his eyes and stared at her with feverish intensity. “I was neither a good husband to you nor a good father to Eddie.” When she tried to say something he interrupted her, his voice stronger, more insistent. “When was I there, Christina? I wasn't there when he was born, Edward and Massallon were. I wasn't there for his first steps, nor when he first spoke. I didn't buy his first toy soldiers; Massallon did. Edward was there to teach him his first letters. Both of them have been more a father to him than his own ever tried to be.

  “And you? When was I there for you? I expected everything from you and gave you nothing in return. What kind of man does that make me, Christina?”

  Staring at him wide-eyed, she could hardly refute any of what he was saying. In truth, she had never noticed that he was never around and therefore had never faulted him for it. Edward and Sergei had filled in for the loss of a husband, and her son unselfishly gave his adoration to all the men in his life, never having time to feel the lack of his father.

  “Who will miss me when I am gone, Christina?”

  Shocked at his question, she stared down at him, wondering at this self-condemnation. “Your son will. I will. Perhaps we have not been the best of lovers, Robert, but we have certainly been the best of friends.”

  Bitterly, he castigated himself. “I have treated casual acquaintances better than I have treated my own family.”

  “You are being too harsh on yourself.”

  “No, and you have never been harsh enough. I look back now and too late realize what a fool I have been.” He was getting more agitated by the minute, and she became concerned at the haunted look in his eyes.

  “Robert, please,”

  “I'm tired now and wish to sleep.” He dismissed her abruptly, turning his face away from her.

  “All right, my dear. Sleep, for tomorrow will be a long day.” She kissed his averted cheek, feeling the hot skin with dread. The fever was flaring again. Please God, she prayed as she let herself quietly out of the room, let us just get him back to Kerkmoor. Give us at least that much time.

  Twenty-four

  After close to two weeks on the road, Varek was surprised that he was still alive. He began to wonder if by some miracle Bröchre had been killed at Waterloo. The thought was sweet indeed, but he had to doubt it. More likely the assassin was dogging his steps this very moment, patiently waiting for the most likely opportunity to fulfill his devil's pact.

  In Würzburg Varek was met by a regiment of Hussars under the command of a veteran soldier, Baron Wilhelm Kinsky, on orders from the emperor to accompany the archduke to Austenburg to deliver the Proclamation of Consolidation with the Austrian Empire, as agreed upon by the Allied Powers at the Congress of Vienna, and to assist in the quelling of any potential uprisings. And so when he and Sergei finally entered the square of the royal palace of Austenburg, the force at their backs was three hundred strong, between his own loyal guard, Emperor Francis's Imperial Guard and the Hussar regiment. The emperor himself was expected shortly to rest in Austenburg on his journey back to Vienna, and with him were the regiments that had fought at Waterloo. It was a show of force to make even the most rabid of rebels think twice about their treason.

  However, the show of force also alerted Roget, who slipped away, disappearing before he could be arrested. No doubt he was busy at that very moment, rallying the resistance to make their own show of force.

  Immediately upon entering the palace, the archduke convened a general assembly in the plaza for the reading of the proclamation. He hoped that the rebels would see the senselessness of armed rebellion against the Emperor of Austria, therefore sparing his people yet another war. After all, with the horror of the past years, when Napoleon swept thought their lands, Austenburg was tired of giving its young men's lives for the greed of others.

  In the meantime, Varek called in his bankers and made arrangements for his personal funds to be transferred to the emperor's court banker, Leopold Elder Von Herz, knowing his fortune would be in trustworthy hands while he decided where he wished to settle. He was secretly leaning toward England.

  Then Varek made dispositions of several of his outlying estates, deeding them to Christina, Sergei and his daughter, respectively, and made arrangements for the Duke of Kerkston to be Tina Marie's guardian should something, God forbid, happen to him. He had discussed this with Francis, making it explicitly clear that he wanted Christina to raise his daughter. Naming the Duke of Kerkston as Tina's guardian was the only way to guarantee this as women were not allowed to hold guardianships.

  Sergei watched Varek's frantic settling of his estates with anger, knowing that somewhere there were two men plotting his friend's death. Roget they would find, but the assassin Bröchre was another matter altogether.

  When Sergei noticed one of Kinsky's Hussars enter the chamber, he strolled over to him, and the soldier quickly reported, “The nest has already been flushed, sir. Several citizens came forward to expose the rebels. Roget is under guard and being transported here.”

  Thanking him, Sergei turned to tell Varek the reassuring news.

  One down, one to go.

  * * * *

  The afternoon was waning when Varek walked out to the plaza with Sergei at his side, his personal guard close around them. Glancing about, Varek was pleased at the optimistic air of his people. Earlier that day they had been informed of the duchy's consolidation with the Habsburg Empire. At first concerned about their new status in the huge empire, they were quickly assured that though there would be a removal of the ruling family, there would be little change in their lives or their economy as all taxes would remain status quo and the guilds would continue with their businesses undisturbed. They were told they would soon participate in the new parliament being formed by Metternich, and his people, or rather the citizens of the new city of Austenburg, seemed to be pleased with the concessions he had secured for them.

  Varek had to admit feeling pride in knowing that his last act as their ruler had been a step forward into a prosperous future for them. He could now walk away and not be ashamed of never looking back.

  The square was abnormally quiet as he walked over to where the rebels were being held. Varek was surprised how many of his highest ranking nobles were among them. Their greatest fears were now realized, they had lost everything: titles, land
and their wealth. After only a few hours of questioning, justice had been passed and sentences handed down, overseen by Baron Kinsky, who now held jurisdiction over the duchy with martial law until the appointment of the officials who would then oversee a new order of Austrian law.

  In the middle of the immaculate plaza, standing at attention, was the intimidating line of an execution squad. In honor of this great day, clemency was shown to most of the rebels, who would serve time in prison for their transgressions. However, the leaders were not so fortunate, and Roget was one of the few sentenced to death for high treason.

  Varek walked slowly up to the little man and asked curiously, “What were you hoping to gain from this foolishness?”

  “That which was rightfully mine.” Roget's enigmatic answer was delivered with no emotion, the look in his eyes cold and already dead. It was obvious to all who watched him that he felt no regret for his crimes.

  Varek frowned in puzzlement. “And you believe Austenburg was rightfully yours?”

  “Indeed,” came the galling rejoinder.

  Not wishing to deal with the irritating man any further, Varek simply shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

  “Did you never guess that I am your elder brother?”

  Stunned, both Varek and Sergei paused before turning around and staring at the madman. “What the hell are you talking about?” Varek demanded, incredulous.

  “You cannot tell me that you did not hear of the affair our father had with my mother?”

  Varek and Sergei cast each other confused looks. Of course they knew of the scandalous affair of the late archduke Joseph with his chancellor's wife, Katerina Janecke. The two were not circumspect in their liaison, and it had gone on for years.

  “I was the product of that unholy pact, and born before our father ever made his political union with the archduchess that produced you. I was first born and should have been ruler of Austenburg.”