by Matilda Hart
That little sliver of blue opened and expanded wider and wider, finally revealing an ocean of azure above his head and all around, and a perfect green grass field below his boots. He was free, but would he survive? Only one thought occupied his mind, and that was water. More than anything in the world this was what he needed to maintain his life; to succor his war-torn visage.
By only the grace of God, Vivian later concluded, at last a stream appeared before him. As he got closer to the body of water, he could see that it was in fact a river, flowing peacefully unawares of the carnage that lay so near to its banks. Vivian wanted to weep, but he lacked the strength to do so.
Sliding down a small, grassy slope, he dropped to his knees at the reedy shore and placed his blood stained hands in the water to feel the coolness on his skin. The water immediately became a pool of redness around his hands, washing him of the death and destruction that clung to his palms. The glare of the sun was blinding, and the ripple and crackling of light on the water’s surface was diamond-like and surreal. Was he imagining it? he wondered. Could this be real?
“You are in great need of water.” A soft, transparent voice spoke from behind him. It was an English voice, and Vivian wondered what a British woman could possibly be doing in this place. He turned to look at the girl, and what he saw was more like an apparition. Long, silky blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders and glistened in the sunlight. Her delicate but firm stature stood erect, and her cornflower blue dress made of light cotton gently billowed in the breeze. Her eyes at first glance appeared to be the color of her dress. She was a vision.
“Here. Drink from my cup.” She said, and extended a copper mug that was polished to utter perfection. Vivian took the cup slowly, and began to drink the cool, pure water with abandon. He could feel the liquid filling his stomach, then his muscles, organs, and every inch of his being, like a cool medicine injected into his veins. He tried to speak; to thank the girl for her kindness. He wanted to know who she was, where she was from, but alas, he found that he could not form words. The hollow in his throat was so deep and penetrating, he was not sure he could even remember how to speak.
“You are a great and noble man.” The girl said, bending down to put a hand on his cheek. “And you’re going to heal from this.” With that, she did something that Vivian found quite unexpected. She handed him a flower. It was soft and pink, and so delicate to the touch that Vivian was afraid to crush it. “You must smell it.” The girl said with a giggle.
Vivian obeyed her, and placed the flower to his nose, closing his eyes to take in the luscious fragrance. It did indeed smell like a peaceful dream, reminding him of a Spring countryside after a gentle rain. He was transported. The carnage of the battlefield seemed miles away, years in the past, as if it were also a dream.
When Vivian finally opened his eyes and looked up to the girl, she was gone. Nowhere to be found. Was his mind playing tricks on him? The flower in his hand was evidence that she was just here, was it not?
Some years later, when Vivian finally had the courage to tell this strange tale to his personal physician and friend, Dr. Edward Keen, over one too many Cognacs and cigars, the doctor gave an explanation.
“It’s a simple matter of loss of blood, old chap.” He said, swirling his drink in his glass and taking a hefty puff from his cigar. “Common on the battlefield. Most soldiers see terrifying gorgons and medieval creatures. Count yourself lucky that you saw a beautiful lady!” He said with gusto.
“But the flower was real. I could feel it in my hand.” Vivian protested, leaning against the mantle and staring into the fireplace. Every time he thought of the event he dipped into a dream-like state.
“You’re a romantic, Viv. Always have been.”
“Well, chimera or not, the lady saved my life.” Vivian said. It was as though he were defending the blonde vision from someone who tried to tear her from reality and confine her into the prison of the imagination. Or even worse, the shadow of hallucination.
“And that we can all be grateful for, old boy. For now you’re the benevolent duke of this fine land.” The doctor said with an extravagant flourish of his hand, no doubt teasing his long time friend. “And you’ve also got me on your generous payroll.” He added.
Chapter One
Duke Vivian Gadsby Flint was never one for ostentation, and that’s why he was riding in one of the most modest carriages that you could behold in the history of Dukedom. Upon inspection through the bouncing window, Vivian could see that Spring was in full bloom in Calliope Ridge, his hereditary duchy over which he ruled. Although his status as nobility was carried down through the family line and Vivian was under no obligation to look after the people of Calliope Ridge, he chose to preside over the domain with a benevolent and active approach. The people of the land had tremendous respect for the Duke, because of his solid character and charitable acts.
Vivian had become something of an acclaimed battle hero since returning from the wars. His prowess and success on the battlefield were well known by all the villagers, and respected by nobility as high up as the King. His physical stature - broad, square shoulders, and ginger coloring punctured by large green eyes - was also something of a sensation among the ladies. It was not uncommon for girls to uncomfortably giggle as he walked the local streets, and wives of nobility to apply an extra coat of rouge when they knew he’d be attending an event. Vivian scoffed at this attention, and thought that it was quite embarrassing to say the least. But deep in his breast there remained a longing to find the one woman that he would cherish for the rest of his life.
And that was the great hope of today’s expedition to the far-off town of South Hamlet, where Vivian was to first lay eyes on the girl that he may indeed wed. He had never met Millicent Scott before, but he was well known and respected by the Scott family; one of the most prominent in Great Britain and closely connected to the King. The girl had just turned 18, and Vivian was told that she was quite a sight to behold. But his tastes were particular, so he had to see for himself to be sure.
The journey was long but the Duke loved the verdant and fragrant ambience of the countryside at this time of year. He set aside the official documents and other accounts that he was supposed to be tending to, and simply gazed off into the distance. Various villages passed by his carriage window, shepherds with their flocks, and other travelers making haste to their various destinations. Whenever another carriage passed Vivian would tip his hat with a gentleman-like grace, then would experience the inevitable embarrassment that came from seeing the passing ladies blush at his gesture.
Although the age of 8 and 20 was still quite young, Vivian began to wonder if matching with a girl 10 years his junior might not be the most prudent choice. After all, he wasn’t looking for a Duchess who would merely bare his children and oversee the upkeep of his estate. He desired more than anything a real companion. Someone that he could lay beside each night, share his thoughts and troubles with; a partner that was to be the companion for the rest of his days. Marrying a girl for her money or family connections was not something that was in any way important to him, but this arrangement was not really by his design.
“You must tie yourself to a good family, Vivvy.” His beloved mother Enid once said to him with a gentle sparkle in her eye, playing with the tufts of his hair. He would never forget that morning when she sat with him in the breakfast parlor, the light warmly cascading through the bay windows, his biscuit with marmalade and Devonshire cream still dancing on his tastebuds. It was a perfect morning. He was only 8 at the time, unawares that his mother would soon be lost to him forever, unable to fully see her pale complexion and ailing health.
“No matter what happens, you must be sure to promise me that you’ll make a decision that keeps our family name strong, and adds to the prosperity of our land.” The coughing overtook her and she ceased to speak.
“I promise you, mummy.” Viv said, puffing his yet undeveloped chest to inspire confidence in his ailing mother.
Chapter Two
South Hamlet was a picturesque town, but with an underbelly that the local nobles and aristocracy did not like to discuss. The outskirts of the town were what one would expect of such a considerable community of wealth; there were grand estates, sweeping fields and vistas, a gentle, babbling creek where residents would take tea in the afternoons and host picnics on Sundays, and there was of course the famous palatial estate where the King himself would reside when on holiday. The portion of the town that was regarded to a lesser extent was the so-called ‘downtown’ of South Hamlet. These cobblestone streets were home to small shops and artisans; tea-sellers, fruit vendors, a dress-making establishment, and a milliner, but this was also quite unfortunately where most of the indigent and poverty-stricken residents resided.
The laborers who merely lived off of despicable wages resided in small tenements that were all around the downtown area, but the incredibly poor simply lived on the streets, asking for money from those who passed. Knowing of all this, it was no surprise to Vivian - when he alighted from his carriage to purchase flowers at a local shop to present to Millicent and the Scott family upon his arrival- that there were poorly-clad locals roaming the streets and loitering on corners.
“I may pop in for a spot of tea, Arnold.” Vivian said to his driver. “It shouldn’t take much time. Why don’t you leave the carriage by the park.” There was a small but picturesque park at the center of the town, and this would be the ideal landmark for finding Arnold when his mission was complete. Feeling the grumble in his belly, the Duke decided that the flowers could wait, as the more pressing issue seemed to be obtaining sustenance for himself. He made haste to the Inn that was just across the street, and could smell the comforting aroma of fresh-baked scones and tea cakes.
Once inside, Vivian gave a sigh of relief that only a fellow traveler would recognize as being the exhalation of one who has finally completed their journey. He positioned himself at a cozy table by the window, where the host had suggested, and placed his napkin upon his lap. The tray of delicacies was brought before him, and a very strong black tea was poured to perfection and served with milk and a small teaspoon of sugar. Vivian immediately felt his mind returning to him, after hours of daydreaming and contemplation.
Taking a warm scone from the multi-tiered cake stand, the Duke scooped a whopping dollop of butter from the dish, as well as a considerable amount of fresh mulberry jam. Taking a heroic bite, Vivian relished the sensation of the warm bread in his mouth, exciting his senses. His attention was stollen for a moment when he looked out the window to the adjacent park, where it seemed a group of young ruffians had congregated. Perhaps in their late teens, the boys were haphazardly dressed and seemed to be up to no good. Vivian’s immediate hope was that they would not do any harm to his nearby carriage, but his gaze then met another figure that seemed to be a kind of vision, at first.
The young lady wore a blue shawl, and despite her considerable beauty, she seemed to be one of the members of the poverty-stricken community. Her long blonde hair was disheveled, and she clung to her shawl as if it was all that she owned in the world. From this vantage, Vivian could also tell that her boots were quite shabby, and had walked many miles. The ruffians were regarding the girl, no doubt due to her shining complexion, despite the smudges of dirt, striking blue eyes that could be seen even from this great distance, and her long, trim figure. They were approaching her with what seemed like no good intentions whatsoever, and Vivian’s spine immediately went straight with alarm.
In what seemed like an instant, the boys had her on the ground and seemed to be yelling obscenities at her. A woman at a nearby table gasped as she saw the scene unfold, and the Duke sprang to his feet as though being called to battle. Darting through the front door of the Inn, he could feel his pulse rising and a fury that he had not experienced in some time.
“Unhand her!” He yelled with the voice of a law enforcement official. Within moments he had reached the scene and was flinging members of the gang to the side, nearly hurling one of them into a tree that was at least 15 paces away. The ruffians immediately sensed they were in the company of one that was to be feared, and they all started scattering and yelling to the others to retreat. Like cockroaches scurrying from the blow of a human foot, they disappeared immediately, leaving only the lovely girl who remained on the ground, shielding herself from another incoming blow.
“It’s alright, they have gone. Are you alright, Madame?” Vivian asked with adrenaline-infused concern. His brow was knitted tightly and his jaw clenched.
The girl still hard her arms over her head, protecting herself as best she could, and the Duke hoped that she would soon discover that she was finally in safe company.
Disoriented and shaking, she managed to speak. “Yes….yes, I think I’m alright, sir. I do thank you.” Vivian grabbed her by the arm to lift her from the ground, and she was light as a feather under his grasp. She was a tall woman, though light of frame, and once on her feet she was still quite wobbly from fear.
“Is everything alright, my Lord?” Arnold’s voice said from a distance. Clearly he had seen what had transpired.
“All shall be fine, Arnold.” The Duke replied, still holding onto the girl until she had steadied herself. “Go back to your post and I’ll return shortly.” He added. But he knew that his arrival at the Scotts would need to be delayed, because this girl was in need of shelter and sustenance whilst she recovered from the attack.
“May I please take you somewhere where you can sit down and have something to eat?” Vivian said to her.
“Oh, that would be too much. You don’t need to do that. I can be on my way.” The girl replied, trying to make her way in the opposite direction. But Vivian wouldn’t have it. He could not tell if it was her pitiable situation, or her rare beauty, that made him want to take care of her, but he simply would not accept her refusal.
“I insist. I’ll not have you walking about with such shaken nerves. I was just taking tea at the Inn, and I request that you be my guest.” Not waiting for her reply, Vivian led her across the street and back to the table where he was formerly sitting. The sandwiches and tea were still awaiting him at his table, and the other guests of the dining room stared in amazement as he led the girl to a comfortable seat. It took several minutes before they went back to their hushed conversations and finger foods.
The girl didn’t say much at first, but began eating with an appetite that reminded the Duke of his fellow soldiers coming off the battle field, with a fierce hunger that stemmed from still being alive.
“Is the food to your liking?” Vivian asked her, amused by the small bit of cream at the side of her mouth.
“Quite lovely.” She managed to say, with a mouth full of food. This didn’t come across as a lack of manners to Vivian, but rather the charming display of a beautiful girl who had not eaten in some time.
“May I procure some more tea for you?” He could see that her cup of Earl Grey had been emptied.
“Yes, thank you, quite.” She replied.
“Alright then.” Vivian signaled the waiter and motioned to the girl’s cup, then returned his attention to her deep blue eyes, expansive as an ocean. “Do you live in South Hamlet or are you just passing through?” He asked, by way of opening up the conversation.
“Passing through, I suppose.” Her appetite seemed to be quelled and she was finally willing to talk. “I live in nearby Hertfordshire, and I walked into town looking for employment. I work as a governess.” She explained, a bit of trepidation in her eyes.
“Have you fallen on hard times?” He asked. Certainly a beautiful governess rarely found herself in such shabby clothes, being attacked by hooligans in the park.
“Yes, I suppose so. My former employment…fell through.” She tried to
explain, encircling a finger around her tea cup. “It’s been quite challenging lately.”
“Where are your parents? Your family?” Vivian inquired, hoping that she had some kind of support in her distress.
“My parents have recently passed.” She said flatly. Vivian’s heart surged, as he himself knew what it was like to lose one’s parents.
“Have you no husband to support you?” The Duke was immediately aware of the fact that he secretly wished that she would reply that she had not.
“There’s a long story there, and I’m afraid it’s going to require another cup of tea to complete.” Once the tea had arrived, Vivian was stunned by how candid and open this beautiful woman was. She began to explain how her formal post was as governess for two children of a widowed merchant. The man for whom she worked took a fancy to her and seduced her, promising to marry her with haste. However, what transpired was that the man ended up finding a wife who had wealth and a substantial dowry, and left the girl while simultaneously ending her employment. She was left with nothing, and on top of that, her reputation was ruined, so that she could find no other employment as a governess.
