by Bree Wolf
As often as I have lectured you, I also know that you’ve turned a deaf ear most of the time. But listen to me now. We all make our own choices, and we all need to make our peace with them. I have made mine for better or for worse, the way I saw fit, and even if you think you could or should have swayed me from my path, know that you could not have. Just as I have never been able to sway you from yours.
Do not blame yourself as I know you do. You are a good man, a good friend, and I wish you well. Remember me, but do not forget the people who need you and love you. One day, we shall meet again, I am certain. But until then, do not waste your days in darkness.
I ask only one thing: look out for Charlotte. She will have need of your strong arm as well as your kind heart. Protect her as you would your own.
Your brother-in-arms and in life,
Kenneth
As his eyes shifted from the words before him, Frederick felt tears stream down his cheeks. Why was it that Kenneth’s death plagued him so when his father’s and brother’s barely touched his heart?
“He has a way of knowing exactly what to say, does he not?” Charlotte whispered, her own eyes bathed in tears as well.
Frederick nodded, brushing the wetness off his cheeks. “More than once, I thought he knew me better than I know myself. I do not know how to go on without his counsel.”
Charlotte nodded. “Neither do I.”
“I do not know what to say, Charlotte.” Frederick put down the letter and met her eyes. “But my offer stands. Should you ever need anything, all you need to do is ask.”
“Thank you,” Charlotte whispered, rising from her chair. “I will remember that.”
Stepping around his desk, Frederick opened the door. “Allow me to escort you to your carriage.”
“I came on horseback.”
Frederick stopped in his tracks and stared at her.
“All my life, I have lived by the rules,” Charlotte said, her voice sounding defeated. “And it has brought me nothing but misery. If I hadn’t…” She gritted her teeth and for a moment closed her eyes as though forcing the words back down. “Now, I will do as I please, and I ask you to respect that.”
Frederick nodded, understanding only too well the sense of hopelessness that shone in her eyes. All of a sudden, nothing mattered anymore as though her own life had ended the day Kenneth had died. And yet, everyone around her expected her to care about the pettiness of life. Frederick knew it had to drive her mad.
Standing on the front stoop, he bid his friend’s fiancée goodbye. “Be well, Charlotte.”
Not saying a word, she mounted her mare. Then her eyes turned to him once more, and the pain he saw there almost choked the life from him. What suffering had he brought on her? If he had only insisted Kenneth stay home. If he had only…
Watching her ride down the drive, Frederick raked his hands through his hair. His muscles clenched, and he felt the desperate need to move, to run, to fight. If only he could return to the continent and throw his pain and misery into battling the enemy. The hatred he felt surge to the surface could be released no other way without hurting the few remaining people he still cared about…deep down.
Storming across the yard, he stripped off his overcoat and flung it on the ground. As he rushed into the stables, Peter jumped up. “Good afternoon, my lord. Is there−?”
Ignoring his stable master, Frederick strode down the aisle to his gelding’s box. He grabbed his saddle resting on a hook on the wall and threw the bridle over the bay’s head. Gritting his teeth so hard he thought they would crack, Frederick swung himself into the saddle that had carried him around the world and urged on his horse.
Without regard for anything, they shot out of the stable and up the hill leading to the expansive pastures surrounding the manor. As they flew across a sea of grass, Frederick closed his eyes, then opened them again.
The world remained the same.
The wind whipped in his face and burned in his eyes. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and pain burned in his heart. Would it ever end? Would he be forced to continue his life on the brink between dull detachedness and crippling pain? Was there no safe way to feel?
Spurring his gelding on, Frederick screamed with frustration. Remembering the moment that had torn Kenneth out of life, he wished for a sudden attack. Some unseen force that would unhorse him. That would throw him onto the ground, breaking his bones. That would finally end this agony.
In that moment, the saddle girth snapped.
Chapter Twenty-Four − Blinding Pain
As her husband stormed across the courtyard, Ellie retreated back into the manor. Who was that woman that had brought such a pained expression to Frederick’s eyes? She had looked familiar, but only when Ellie saw Frederick’s expression, did she remember the night Leopold had died.
That night, the woman had come to the Midnight ball and spoken to Frederick on the terrace. Then, too, his face had taken on a tortured expression. What news had she brought? What past did they share?
Feeling a sense of dread settle in her stomach, Ellie walked through the house without a sense of direction. In her heart, she knew that the woman’s effect on her husband bothered her more than she liked to admit. Could it be that Frederick did not warm to her because he loved an-other? Did they share a doomed love? Why had he not married her instead? His mother surely would not have refused his wishes.
Ellie’s head spun, and she sank onto the settee in the front parlour.
How long she sat there, Ellie could not say. However, her inner reflections were suddenly interrupted when a soft hand came to rest on her shoulder.
Instantly, her head snapped up, and she looked into Theresa’s gentle eyes.
“She was his friend’s fiancée,” her mother-in-law said, and a relieved sigh escaped Ellie’s lips as she clasped her hands to her face.
Feeling Theresa sit down beside her, Ellie did her utmost to stop the tears that threatened. Never before had she realised just how deep her feelings for Frederick ran.
“His name was Kenneth Moreton, Viscount Hutchins,” Theresa said. “He was killed in battle six months before Frederick returned home.”
As her hands sank into her lap, Ellie turned to her mother-in-law. “I have heard his name before,” she whispered, once again remembering the day she had waded into the brook. “They were friends since childhood; were they not?”
Theresa nodded. “Despite their differences in character, they were like brothers. Kenneth always followed wherever Frederick would lead, and Frederick always watched over Kenneth no matter what the circumstances. There was a special bond between them.”
Remembering the agony in Frederick’s eyes upon seeing his dead friend’s fiancée, Ellie realised that most of her husband’s pain stemmed from the unresolved issues caused by his friend’s death. It was the incident that had torn apart his soul, keeping him from opening his heart to all that had followed, be it his father’s and brother’s death or the love of his family.
“He never speaks about him, does he?”
Theresa shook her head. “No, he refuses to. Only Oliver sometimes dares to open these wounds Frederick so carefully shields. However, to this day, I suppose it has done little good.” Turning sad eyes to Ellie, Theresa patted her knee. “Oliver does not understand the meaning of pain, physical or emotional. As much as he tries, only personal experience can make us truly under-stand such agony.”
Ellie nodded, seeing clearly in her mother-in-law’s eyes the hope that she as his wife would find a way to ease her son’s suffering.
Ellie only hoped she would not disappoint her.
For all their sakes.
The remainder of the day, Ellie spent pacing the front parlour. After everything her mother-in-law had said, her mind reinterpreted every situation she could remember. Trying to look at her husband’s behaviour in a different light, Ellie came to understand the fear that lived in his heart. Despite his strong exterior, he was terrified of the weakness he knew could swallow
him whole.
When the blazing sun slowly dimmed and evening approached, Ellie’s head snapped up and she finally realised how late it was. Hours had passed since Frederick had stormed off, and yet, he had not returned. Or had he? Had she been so occupied and not noticed?
Walking back to the front hall, Ellie stopped Wilton in his tracks. “Have you seen his lord-ship?”
“I believe he went for a ride, my lady.”
Fear settled in her heart. “He has not returned yet?”
“No, my lady.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled and hastened to find her mother-in-law but then stopped before she had taken more than a few steps. Ought she to alert Theresa? After all, she wouldn’t know where Frederick was, either. If Wilton said her husband had not returned yet, then he simply hadn’t. Wilton always knew where everybody was, maybe with the exception of Mathilda. The young girl often disappeared without a trace, hiding in every nook and cranny all over the manor and its side buildings, only to reappear suddenly out of thin air.
Stepping outside, Ellie gazed across the gardens and then proceeded around the manor to-ward the stables. Frederick had stormed off in anger. Could he be so blinded by his emotions that something had happened to him? Her insides twisted at the thought.
Determined, Ellie entered the stables. “Peter, saddle my horse,” she instructed, ignoring his rather stunned expression. After all, her dress was suitable for having tea, not chasing her husband across his estate. However, there was no time to change, and so Ellie led her mare out of the stables and swung herself into the saddle.
Following in the direction Frederick had taken, Ellie urged her horse onward and circled the stables toward the pastures that lay beyond. Her eyes scanned the horizon, finding nothing but endless sky, nothing to give her a clue as to where he had gone.
When she was about to spur her horse onward and up the slight hill, she stopped as her eyes finally settled on something.
Or rather someone.
A small distance from her, Ellie spotted a man walking up the hill toward her, his horse trotting by his side. Although he was tall, he held himself hunched-over, his right arm clutched to his left shoulder. As she stared, his face came into view.
Ellie drew in a sharp breath at the pain she saw there. “Peter!” she called, then urged her horse onward.
Her mare shot forward and within a few long strides, she was by his side. Sliding out of the saddle, Ellie rushed to her husband. “What happened?” she asked, seeing blood run from a cut on his forehead.
Panting under his breath, Frederick looked like he would faint any second.
In that moment, Peter and a few stable hands reached their side, taking the horses and helping her husband down the slope and into the manor.
Wilton’s eyes grew wide at the sight of his master’s distorted face.
“Call for Dr. Madison,” Ellie instructed, and the butler hurried off. Then she turned back to the stable hands and pointed up the large staircase. “Take him upstairs to his chambers. I’ll be up immediately.”
***
Gritting his teeth, Frederick eased himself onto the bed. Instantly, a blinding pain shot through his shoulder, and for a moment, he thought he would crumble to the ground. Only Peter’s steady hands held him upright. “It’s dislocated, my lord.”
“I know,” Frederick snarled taking a deep breath and waited for the pain to subside. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe evenly.
Footsteps approached, and then his mother’s voice drifted to his ears, “Frederick?”
Opening his eyes, he forced a reassuring smile on his face and met her worried gaze. “Hello, Mother.”
Shaking her head, she inspected his shoulder. “It’s dislocated.”
“So I’ve heard,” he forced out through clenched teeth. If they would only leave him alone!
“If you would please leave us now,” his wife spoke, and Frederick glanced around his mother. Elsbeth stood by the doorway, ushering everyone outside. “Send Dr. Madison up as soon as he arrives.” Then she closed the door.
After setting a wicker basket on the bedside table, she came to stand beside his mother, her eyes gliding over his injuries. Never before had Frederick felt so vulnerable as when her gaze slid over him in such a perusing way, and he averted his eyes.
“I will clean the cut on his forehead,” she said, then returned to the bedside table and retrieved a bottle of cooking port and a clean cloth. “Do you have any other injuries beside this cut and the dislocated shoulder?”
“I don’t think so,” Frederick answered, starting to feel more and more uncomfortable with the level of contact this situation forced on him.
After pouring some of the port on the linen cloth, his wife came to stand beside him, and his heart nearly stopped when she placed a gentle hand under his chin and carefully tilted up his head. Never had she touched him like this before!
As she began cleaning his wound, he barely felt the sting of the alcohol. Instead, he felt her warm breath on his cheek, and a shiver went down his back. He swallowed, and his eyes were once again drawn to her. Her brows slightly furrowed in concentration, she bit her lower lip as she worked, and despite the pain in his shoulder, Frederick wondered what her lips would feel like on his own.
“There,” she finally said, straightening up. “The cut should heal fine.” When her fingers left his chin, Frederick regretted the loss of their touch immediately. Clearing his throat, he swallowed, forcing his thoughts back under control.
After a short knock, the door opened, and Dr. Madison strode into the room. “I heard you took a little tumble,” he joked, and Frederick rolled his eyes at the haggard-looking doctor. Thin like a broomstick, Dr. Madison, with his few remaining hairs and child-like smile, approached the bed, eyeing him carefully. “I never thought I’d live to see the day you fall off a horse.”
Frederick grunted. “I didn’t fall. The saddle girth snapped.”
Dr. Madison shrugged, probing a gentle finger at his injured shoulder.
A growl rose from Frederick’s throat. “Was that necessary, Doctor?”
Grinning, Dr. Madison shrugged, and Frederick wondered if the doctor had any undisclosed issues with him. “We need to remove the shirt.”
His mother stepped forward and tried to slide it off his shoulder.
Instantly, a searing pain brought Frederick to his knees.
Soft hands kept him from falling flat on his face, and as he looked up, he found his wife’s eyes only a breath’s length away from his own. Pulling on his uninjured shoulder, she eased him back onto the bed. “Look in the basket. There should be a pair of scissors,” she said to his mother and held out her hand to receive them. Then, she carefully cut away his shirt.
As her fingertips brushed over his heated skin, another shiver went down his back, and the dull pain in his shoulder was almost forgotten. It had been a long time since gentle hands had touched him!
“Very well then,” Dr. Madison said, rubbing his hands. “Shall we?”
Staring at the thin, old man, Frederick wondered if he even possessed the strength it took to relocate a shoulder. “Are you certain you can do this?” he asked, sounding doubtful.
A grin on his face, Dr. Madison ignored him and dragged the heavy wooden chair from the desk in the corner into the centre of the room. “Please, be seated.”
As Frederick tried to rise to his feet, a crippling pain returned to his shoulder, and he would probably have fallen had it not been for his wife’s steady hands. Gently, she guided him to the chair, her hands supporting his uninjured shoulder.
Dr. Madison approached then. He set one leg on the chair’s seat right behind Frederick’s injured shoulder before carefully lifting up the arm and placing it over his knee.
Gritting his teeth, Frederick waited, hoping Dr. Madison knew what he was doing.
The doctor then placed one hand on his patient’s shoulder and the other on his upper arm. From one second to the next, he then leaned forward, s
imultaneously pushing down on shoulder and arm.
A sharp pain shot through Frederick, and the breath caught in his throat.
Then a soft pop echoed through the room, and the shoulder was back in its socket.
“There, all done,” Dr. Madison announced cheerfully, patting him on the shoulder.
Frederick winced, but the sharp pain had indeed vanished. Only a dull echo remained. “Thank you,” he grumbled.
“Yes, thank you,” his mother said, enormous relief showing on her face. “I’ll escort you out.”
With a last wink for his patient, Dr. Madison followed his mother out the door.
“He is a rather strange man, is he not?” his wife observed, a hint of humour in her eyes. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t think he had the strength to do this.”
Frederick snorted, carefully rising to his feet. “Neither did I.”
“Let me help you,” she said, rushing to his side.
Frederick was about to protest when her soft hands touched his skin. His heart began to hammer in his chest, and once more the breath caught in his throat. He swallowed but did not object. Gently, she led him to the bed, fluffed up his pillow and then drew the blanket up to his chin.
“You should rest,” she said, closing the curtains. “I will have some food sent up later.”
“Thank you,” Frederick mumbled, unable to keep his eyes off her.
She smiled at him then and as though on impulse reached out her hand and brushed a lock off his forehead. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered and left.
For a long time, Frederick lay in his bed wondering. Although his eyelids were heavy, his mind could not abandon the memory of her touch. With sure, yet gentle hands, she had taken care of him, her quick mind knowing exactly what he needed.
No one had taken care of him in a long time. Not like that. Especially now that he was the head of his family, he was the one to look after others. But even long before becoming the marquess, he had always taken care of those around him.
