How to Wake a Sleeping Lady

by Wolf, Bree

  Nessa dreaded the thought of meeting these people face to face and was relieved when Grant as well as her father sent them away with a few kind, but firm words, stating that the lady of Wentford Park was not yet well enough to receive visitors. It was a great relief to Nessa and helped her feel more at ease, allowing her to ignore the world beyond the estate’s borders.

  With time, Wentford Park slowly began to feel like home as Nessa spent her days with the family who had mourned her for three years. Her father had once again become the calm anchor in her life, always watchful and ready to offer a word of advice if needed. He was simply there, and Nessa often turned to him when she had concerns about her past with Grant.

  Milly, with her exuberance and zest for knowledge and adventure, had quickly become the joy of her life, and Nessa felt her heart beat for the little girl. Some afternoons, they spent tucked away in Milly’s tree house, whispering and laughing, while others found them in the library or the stables or anywhere else, as long as they were together.

  One afternoon, Milly lost her footing when climbing down from her tree house and dropped to the ground. Her piercing scream froze Nessa’s heart in a way she had never experienced before. Pain shot through her body along with the desperate wish that Milly’s pain could be hers instead.

  Rushing to pull the girl into her arms, Nessa felt overwhelmed by the way Milly settled into her embrace, holding on tightly as her sobs calmed. For the rest of the afternoon, the little girl was unwilling to be parted from Nessa. Only when her eyes finally fell closed at the end of the day did she relinquish her hold on Nessa, sinking into a deep slumber.

  With tears in her eyes, Nessa stood in her daughter’s chamber and looked down at the little girl, overwhelmed by the all-consuming love that swelled in her heart. She didn’t even notice her husband until he came to stand beside her, his hand brushing against hers. “She loves you,” he whispered, and she had no difficulty detecting the joy in his voice.

  “I love her as well,” Nessa replied, realizing for the first time that she felt like a mother to Milly. Not merely someone who took care of her. Someone who cared for her. Someone who enjoyed spending time with her.

  No, at some point during their shared time, Nessa had come to feel like Milly’s mother.

  And it took her breath away.

  “I wish I could remember what she was like as a baby,” she whispered into the dim light of the room. “I try to picture her, but I can’t. That’s a memory I deeply regret I lost.” Blinking back tears, she looked at her husband.

  Even in the dim light, his eyes held sadness. “She has always been who she is today,” he whispered, glancing at their sleeping daughter. “Just like you.”

  Nessa sighed. “Tell me about her.”

  Grant chuckled as they stepped from the room. “She’s always been a wild one,” he said, deep approval in his voice, and Nessa knew that he would not wish Milly to be anything less than who she was. “She’s always been daring and curious and determined. If there was something she wanted, she would pursue it with a single-mindedness that could drive you insane.”

  Nessa laughed as she tried to picture Milly as a two-year-old girl waving her little fists about, her face scrunched up in determination.

  “I believe she got that from you.”

  Stopping in the middle of the corridor, Nessa turned to her husband, watching him through slightly narrowed eyes. “I sincerely hope that was a compliment.”

  Grant chuckled. “Nothing less.” He glanced at the door to her bedchamber. “Should we head downstairs and talk some more? Or are you tired?”

  “I am,” Nessa replied, “but I’d love to hear more about…my daughter.”

  Grant smiled, and she could see how much her words meant to him. “Shall I escort you downstairs?” he asked rather formally, holding out his arm to her. Still, there was a humorous twinkle in his eyes that Nessa had come to love.

  Stepping toward him, Nessa stopped as her thoughts were drawn back to the one aspect of her life that unsettled her.

  “Is something wrong?” Grant asked, concern in his voice as his moss-green eyes sought hers.

  Licking her lips, Nessa chose her words carefully. “I’d rather speak with you alone,” she said as her eyes held his, waiting to see how he would react, “and lately…your mother seems to be making it a habit to…”

  “Eavesdrop on our conversations?” Grant finished. Again, there was a teasing gleam in his eyes, and yet, the tone of his voice had a disapproving note to it. “I noticed it as well. I shall speak to her.”

  “Why do you think she does so?” Nessa asked, remembering the scowl on her mother-in-law’s face whenever the woman’s gaze was directed at her.

  Grant shrugged. “I suppose she’s curious after all. Yes, your return upset her carefully structured life, but perhaps she’s come to realize that she’s been wrong. Clearly, your return has brought nothing but joy to all of us.” His eyes shone brightly as he looked at her, and Nessa felt a welcoming warmth spread through her at his words. Still, she could not deny that her mother-in-law looked far from pleased with her presence. There had to be another reason as the dowager countess did not strike her as someone who easily changed her opinion.

  Of course, she could be wrong.

  “Would you like to come in?” Nessa asked her husband as she glanced at the door to her bedchamber. “In there, she won’t be able to eavesdrop.”

  A smirk claimed Grant’s face, and his brows rose in question.

  Nessa rolled her eyes, unable not to grin nonetheless. “To talk,” she clarified. “Only to talk.”

  Her husband laughed. “I’d like that.”

  Opening the door to the warm glow of her room, Nessa felt more at ease than she would have thought. Certainly, inviting her husband into her bedchamber brought with it all kinds of implications and she could tell from the way his gaze swept over her, lingering on the large bed for a second too long, that his mind, too, had ventured in that direction. Still, Nessa felt comfortable in his presence, safe and respected, and she had no doubt that he would uphold the promise he had made her all those weeks ago on their journey to Wentford Park.

  As the nights were rather warm, no fire burned in the hearth; however, the sconces around the room had been lit by Wentford Park’s faithful servants and the late setting of the sun cast a few last golden rays over the world. “I love this room,” Nessa whispered, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment.

  Grant came to stand behind her as they both gazed out the window. “You always have,” he said as his breath tickled her ear. “We were married here, and the moment we began our life together, you had it remodelled.”

  “What did it look like before?”

  Grant scoffed. “Well, it had been my mother’s chamber so…”

  Chuckling, Nessa turned to look at her husband. “I suppose our tastes are fairly different.”

  “That is an understatement,” Grant pointed out as his eyes swept over her. “You’re very different people. Perhaps that’s why there’s always been…this strain between the two of you.”

  “What about her and Eugenie?” Nessa asked, noting the slight twitch that assaulted her husband whenever she spoke Eugenie’s name. “Were they much alike? From what you told me, I would have thought not. But your mother seemed to have approved of Eugenie.”

  Grant shrugged. “I cannot say with certainty. Perhaps it was simply that that time around I actually consulted my mother and she felt as though Eugenie had been her choice. At least partly.”

  “She would not have chosen me, would she?” Nessa said, knowing full well that if Grant had needed his mother’s permission they would never have married.

  He shook his head. “She would not have,” he confirmed. Then he paused, and Nessa thought she saw a moment of hesitation in his eyes before he went on. “I know you don’t remember and I promised I would not keep anything from you. So,” he inhaled a deep breath as a somewhat apologetic look came to his eyes. “Mother in
fact spoke out against you. She did not wish for me to marry you.”

  “I suppose for the usual reasons?” Nessa asked, knowing full well that she had not been a catch.

  Grant nodded.

  “And yet, you did,” Nessa whispered, relieved that he would tell her something unpleasant and not hold back. After all, the thought that her mother-in-law had not wanted her as her son’s wife was no surprise. “You did marry me.”

  A deep smile came to his face. “I only thought of myself and what would make me happy.” Slowly, his hands reached for her, pulling her into his arms. “I simply knew that you were the one. I saw you and I knew, and I’ve never once regretted that decision.”

  “Not once?”

  “Not once,” he said with vehemence as his arms tightened on her as though he still feared she might slip away. “The day we met was when my life truly began. I’ve never been as happy as I have been with you by my side.”

  Leaning into him, Nessa sighed. “Tell me about our life.”

  Grant sighed, and a peaceful calm fell over his face. “I suppose by other people’s standards, we had a rather boring life.” Nessa chuckled. “We were married here at Wentford Park, and apart from the occasional visit to London, we never ventured far.” He glanced around the chamber. “Milly was born here, in this room. This was our home. This is where we were a family. We visited neighbors, held small garden parties in summer and took the occasional journey to a neighboring county. However, most of our time, we spent here, with each other. We watched Milly grow, held her hand when she needed it and let her walk ahead when she felt daring.” His gaze returned to meet hers. “You know that small slope that leads down to Milly’s tree house?”

  Nessa nodded.

  “When Milly was two, she raced down that slope, but then her little feet could not keep up. She lost her footing and broke her arm.”

  Nessa drew in a sharp breath at the thought of her daughter’s pain.

  “I can still hear her crying,” Grant whispered, and Nessa could see that Milly’s pain was his as well as hers. “My heart stopped, and I was never more afraid than in that moment.”

  “I know what you mean,” Nessa told him, content in the knowledge that they could share these memories with each other, these feelings that they both felt but no one else. After all, only they loved Milly in this all-consuming and awe-inspiring way. Only they were her parents. It was a bond that Nessa cherished, and she felt closer not only to her daughter, but also to her husband.

  Looking up into his moss-green eyes, Nessa knew that he would speak truthfully if she were to ask him. “We were happy, were we not?”

  “Very happy,” Grant replied as he brushed his knuckles along the line of her jaw, his eyes warm and lingering as he looked at her.

  “But was there ever a time when,” dropping her gaze, Nessa paused with pained consideration, not certain if she truly wished to know, “when we weren’t happy? A time when there was sadness? Or anger? Was there never disagreement between us?”

  Grant grimaced slightly, and Nessa steeled herself for what he would tell her. “Of course, we had disagreements,” he whispered, and she knew that he meant to speak lightly. Still, there was a graveness to his voice that sent chills down her back. “But they were never more than that. Disagreements. Differences of opinion. We talked. We fought. We reconciled.” He sighed, and his moss-green eyes, so dark in the dim light of the room, once again found hers. “We were still happy.”

  Nessa swallowed as she searched his gaze. “What are you not telling me? I can see it in your eyes. There is something else, and…it must be something terrible if you’re so fearful to speak to me about it.”

  Grant nodded. “You deserve to know, and yet, it breaks my heart to be the one to put such grief on you.”

  “Grief?” Nessa whispered as her heart constricted in her chest. “Who?”

  Grant swallowed, and tears came to his eyes. “Our son,” he whispered, and the pain in his voice pierced Nessa’s heart like a sharp knife. “Oliver.”

  Nessa felt her jaw begin to quiver as she looked up at her husband. Silent tears streamed down her face, and the breath lodged in her throat, threatening to suffocate her.

  In answer, his arms around her tightened their hold, offering comfort—what little he could give. “He was stillborn,” he told her, his own voice choked. “It was the darkest day of our lives.”

  Leaning her head against her husband’s shoulder, Nessa all but sagged against him as her heart ached for a child she could not remember. A child whose face she would never see again. The only memory she would ever have of him had been erased. “H-How long ago?”

  “Four years,” Grant whispered against the top of her head as he held her tightly. “He would have been four years old.”

  Clinging to her husband, Nessa let her tears fall as they mourned their son, a precious little life that should never have been lost. At least, he had been loved and would be remembered.

  By everyone but her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lingering Sadness

  The following day, Nessa rose late and mostly kept to herself. Sadness still rested on her soul, and she knew not what to do. It felt wrong to distract herself, to cheer herself up when she had only just learned that she’d had a son.

  A son she had lost.

  A son she could not remember.

  Silently, Nessa sneaked out of the terrace doors, feeling the need for fresh air as much as solitude. Her feet led her far away from the house, and she welcomed the stillness of the gardens which pulled her onward with every step she took.

  Tears soon blurred her vision as the sadness overwhelmed her once again. It seemed to come in waves, rolling over her as though seeking to drown her. Then there were moments when Nessa barely felt anything, her emotions dulled as though her heart did not dare to feel at all for fear of what it might find.

  “Oliver,” she whispered into the green oasis that surrounded her, picturing a little boy with light brown hair and moss-green eyes as he ran alongside Milly.

  In her mind, she saw them snuggled together in the large armchair in the library, giggling as they looked at the books on stars and constellations Milly loved so much. She saw them climbing the rope ladder to the tree house, with Milly in the lead and Oliver following on her heels. She saw Milly hold out her hand to her brother, pulling him up onto the platform and teaching him how to use the telescope. She saw them smile and laugh and giggle.

  Sinking onto the ground, Nessa rested her back against a large tree as her hand traveled to her mid-section. Two children had she carried under her heart. Two children had she birthed. And yet, there was no memory of either one of them on her mind. How could life be so cruel?

  At least with Milly, Nessa had the chance to make new memories. Was that not what she’d been telling herself? That the loss of her memories did not matter? That there were new ones waiting around each corner?

  However, with Oliver, there were not.

  All she had of him was the past. A past that had been ripped from her, leaving her with nothing. Almost three months had passed since her return to Wentford Park, and yet, she had not learned about Oliver until the day before. It was almost as though her son had never existed.

  Dimly, Nessa remembered what Grant had told her about having Eugenie sleep in her chamber, sit in her place at the table, embrace their daughter. Life had moved on, and he had been devastated to find that Nessa had been all but forgotten. Her loss was no longer felt day in and day out. Had the same thing happened with Oliver? Did his loss no longer pain anyone?

  No, that wasn’t true.

  Only too well did Nessa remember the grief on her husband’s face as he had spoken of their son. He had seemed crippled by the loss, and her heart had ached for him as much as for herself. No one could live with that kind of loss day in and day out. At some point, one had to move on, didn’t one? Or spend one’s life in darkness?

  Still, neither option seemed right…if there even
was such a thing.

  “Nessa?”

  At the sound of Milly’s little voice, Nessa quickly brushed the tears from her face, trying her best to will the sadness from her heart and put a smile on her face…for her daughter’s sake.

  Small footsteps echoed closer and, before long, Milly walked around the tree and came to stand in front of her. Looking down at her mother with her hazel eyes, Nessa could see confusion in the little girl’s face. “You’re sad,” Milly observed, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

  “I am,” Nessa confirmed, knowing that she could not lie to her daughter. That she ought not lie to her daughter.

  Sinking onto the ground, Milly tugged her skirts down over her legs. “Why are you sad?”

  Nessa sighed, not knowing what to say. Did Milly know of her brother? Or had they tried to shield her from the sadness? “Your father,” she began carefully, “told me about Oliver.” Waiting, Nessa watched her daughter. Perhaps she ought not to have said anything. However, the loss of her memory had made her fearful and judgemental of lie and secrets.

  Milly’s head bobbed up and down, and a long sigh left her little lips. “I don’t remember him,” Milly told her, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Like I don’t remember you.”

  Nessa smiled and gently placed a hand on her daughter’s. “I don’t remember him either.”

  “Does that make you sad?” Milly asked as she scooted closer.

  Nessa nodded.

  “Me, too.” She sighed before her wide eyes met Nessa’s. “But I don’t want to be sad. Everybody is always sad. I’m tired of being sad.”

  Heaving a deep breath, Nessa pulled Milly into her arms, holding her daughter tightly. “I know,” she whispered, “and I’m sorry for making you sad.”

  Milly snuggled deeper into her arms, and Nessa’s heart warmed at the feeling of her daughter’s closeness. “I wish people weren’t always sad. Father is no longer sad. I like it when he smiles,” she whispered as though telling a secret.