My mouth gaped open at the meddling question she posed before everyone, causing an apparent humiliation to Stefan by the look on his face.
“Thankfully, no,” he said. “If I had a loved one trapped in Belgium at this time, it would be most distressing to think of the hardships and dangers she might endure during my absence.”
Having read of the despicable Germans raping women in the country with no thought of guilt whatsoever, I understood his remark.
“Well, indeed when the war has ended, you’ll marry and settle down and be as happy as my son and Grace are together.” Florence smiled at the two of us as I seethed at her underhanded ploy.
“Stefan, if you find a girl, you need to make sure she will fly a kite with me like Grace.”
“You’ve been kite flying?” Benedict raised a brow.
“Celia and I have been playing all sorts of things while she’s been here, haven’t we, dear? We’ve mended her doll too.” I didn’t wish her to go into details regarding the kite-flying episode, so I steered her direction elsewhere.
“Celia, I’m afraid, needs more attention than I can provide her at the moment,” Doctor Reyer clarified. “I’m most grateful for Lady Grace and the thoughtfulness she has given my daughter.”
“I see,” Benedict replied. “That reminds me, Grace. I stopped by the nursery to see Percy before speaking with Mother. He’s a fine lad and has grown more than I expected.”
“Babies do those sorts of things... grow,” I replied with a smirk. Benedict’s eyes softened into a soulful gaze.
“Well, perhaps it’s time for another child.”
The announcement at the dinner table embarrassed me. How could he bring up such a subject in front of our guests without any qualms? By the knowing twinkle in his eye, I surmised once again it to be a maneuver on his part to solidify the importance of our union for Stefan’s sake. His actions confirmed to me Benedict felt threatened by the younger man at his table, and he surmised that Stefan had captured my fancy whether I admitted to it or not.
“A topic to discuss in private, dear.” I gleefully chuckled, acting entertained by his comment.
Eventually the discussion changed to trivial subjects as the Smits and Doctor Reyer joined in. Stefan spoke quietly to the others, appearing aloof toward Benedict and me. After dinner had finished, the gentlemen retired alone for port and cigars while I stayed with Celia, Florence, and Gretta. My stomach balled into a knot, frightening me that I would expel my dinner at any moment. My mother-in-law appeared to enjoy my discomfort.
“Are you all right, Grace? You’re looking pale.”
“I’m all right,” I responded. “Something at dinner didn’t agree with me.”
“The fish was a bit undercooked,” Gretta remarked. “That may be why you feel a bit queasy.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s why.” The dinner had nothing to do with it. It was the fact that the men were off alone talking among themselves. Inwardly I prayed Benedict would not make a fool of himself while in their presence. Certainly, he would have more sense.
About a half hour later, they entered the room. After a quick glance at Benedict, Stefan appeared anxious to leave. My suspicions were correct.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll walk back to the cottage tonight,” he announced. “I could use the exercise.”
“But your leg,” I protested aloud, making my sentiments known. As soon as the words left my mouth, I cringed.
“He will do fine,” Doctor Reyer assured me. “I examined him yesterday, and the bone has healed nicely. The muscles need exercising and strengthening before he returns to duty.”
“Well then, if you’ll excuse me,” he said. “Ladies, good evening.”
Celia naturally ran for a goodbye hug. “I wish you would stay.” She pouted.
“It’s about your bedtime anyway, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.” After giving her a hug, he headed toward the door.
“Let me see you out,” Benedict offered in a firm tone.
By the sound of his voice, I knew it would not be a friendly farewell. As they left the room, my hands grew clammy as I clutched them in worry. A moment later, I begged my leave.
“Please forgive me,” I hastily announced. “I’m not feeling well.”
Escaping any forthcoming comments about my swift exit, I left the parlor and strode through the foyer to glance out the door. Benedict stood outdoors in front of Stefan in an authoritative stance. I neared but stayed hidden so I could hear their conversation.
“Stay the hell away from my wife,” Benedict growled in a menacing tone.
“Contrary to what you may have heard, nothing immoral has transpired between Grace and me.”
“You mean Lady Grace. I don’t appreciate the familiarity in your tone. It’s disrespectful.”
My eyelids shut tight afraid to listen as they sparred with one another. A part of me wanted to run outdoors and stand between the two of them.
“With all due respect, Major, your wife only wants one thing.”
“How in the hell do you know what my wife wants?” Benedict bellowed in return. “Stay the bloody hell out my private affairs.”
Stefan remained silent and then replied in a low tone. Unable to hear what he had to say, it was impossible not to discern Benedict’s immediate response to his comment. I heard the blow of his fist hit Stefan’s jaw, and I glanced out the door to witness him fall on his back. It took every ounce of strength to restrain myself from running to him.
“I suppose I deserved that,” he replied.
“Go back to the front where you belong and stay out of my affairs, you goddamn foreigner.”
Afraid Benedict would discover I had heard the conversation and seen its violent end, I sprinted up the staircase to our bedchamber. Unable to hold back my emotions, tears trickled down my cheeks, falling onto the blue satin bodice. A moment later, Benedict stormed into the room, rubbing his knuckles.
“What did you do?” I yelped.
“What do you think I did? I hit the bastard to make a point.”
“Why must you be so cruel to the man? I’ve told you nothing has happened between us.”
“You think me stupid? I can see the way you look at him. You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“No, of course not.” My trembling voice denied the accusation.
“You are forbidden to see him alone again, do you hear me, Grace? I don’t need to be fighting a war on the front and fearful that behind my back you are unfaithful.”
His cruelness caused me to bring my hands to the side of my head in disbelief. Heaving in anger, I railed in return. “Your mother put those thoughts into your head. She hates me, and all she is doing is meddling in our marriage.”
“Keep my mother out of this,” he spat with flaring nostrils. He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped out of it, throwing it on the chair. The heated argumentative situation had been our first. We had never argued with such intensity. It pricked my heart it had come to this dividing moment between us, and a wave of guilt washed over me.
“I will not be unfaithful to you, Benedict.” My voice remained calm as I reassured him.
“It doesn’t matter what you feel for him because, in ten days, he will be gone and back to his unit.” He shot me a disgusting look. “Your childish crush will have dissipated, and that will be the end of it.” He turned away from me and started to take his shirt off.
“Don’t be angry with me,” I pleaded. “I cannot bear you to be mad at me.”
Ignoring me, he continued to undress. Benedict had been accurate in his assessment of my emotional state. Soon Stefan would be gone, and it would end. My life would return to being a dutiful wife. The course I had set for myself years ago at the matrimonial altar would not change. Perhaps it was nothing more than a childish crush.
Slowly I made my way toward him. “Will you help me out of the dress?” I asked, turning my back toward him. As I did so, I pulled out the comb holding my hair in place and let it c
ascade down my back. He remained silent. “Well?” I prodded him.
His fingers tenderly unbuttoned the dress. When he finished, he slipped it off my shoulders and started kissing my bare flesh. For the moment, I had drawn him back to me with the enticement of satisfaction and resigned myself to the forthcoming unfulfilling moment of intimacy.
Chapter Fifteen
Women of Britain Say — “GO!”
Benedict’s leave days melted away until once again the time to depart had arrived. He had spent his two-week respite with his son, mother, and I as if he cherished each moment being home. I could not blame him for doing so because of what awaited his return. More often than he had done so before the war, he sought my body. In respect and honor, I performed my conjugal duties, accepting the reality of our marriage.
Stefan had all but disappeared, keeping cloistered at the cottage and taking his meals there each evening instead of joining us for dinner again. His father must have heard about the incident, and he too stayed away, working late hours at the hospital.
When the day arrived for Benedict to return to duty, it felt as if the scene we had lived through a little over a year ago repeated itself. The same goodbyes with his mother at home occurred, and the same silent journey to the train station followed.
As I stood on the platform, waiting to say farewell, my eyes fell upon the posters tacked on the walls of the station. One of them showed a wife and children at the window of their home. Outside were men marching to war. The words “Women of Britain say — “GO!” were printed across the picture, supposedly representing patriotic sacrifice. As wives, we were to encourage the men in our lives to fight for country and king. The advertisement offended me because no woman in her right mind would willingly inspire her husband to walk toward death. To my shame, since the war’s declaration, I had forgotten why we even were in this conflict. The onset and its political reasons made no sense to me. It seemed pointless.
My focus returned to Benedict as we came to a standstill before his coach. I threw my arms around his neck and gave him a tight hug. He deserved the show of affection even if no swelling of passionate love filled my heart. My husband was one of those men in the poster, marching into hell, and I hated it.
“Take care of yourself, Benedict.” My voice trembled as I pulled away.
“As best I can,” he replied.
His lips met mine with a glancing kiss, and I sensed an underlying worry in his actions.
“Percy will miss you,” I said, smiling. “He is such a darling boy, isn’t he?”
“Indeed he is.” A broad smile replaced the brooding look on his face. “I do love the lad.”
“Do you love me?” I have no idea why I asked except I wondered if the recent events had dampened his affections. He pondered silently before answering.
“Of course I do,” he said in an assuring voice. He brought his hand to the side of my cheek. “You know I do.”
The yearning in his gaze told me he wanted my affirmation as well, which I readily gave. “I love you.” My confession sounded insincere even in my hearing, and I feared Benedict sensed the words lacked depth. Perhaps he wanted to regain my whole heart because the day would come when Stefan would leave, and that would be the end of it.
The whistle loudly blew, causing me to jolt, and the conductor bellowed, “All aboard.”
“Goodbye, my love.” Benedict gave me a quick embrace. He turned and left, but his words had a definite finality in them that startled me.
A terrible fear of impending loss gripped my heart. Before I could say or do anything more, he disappeared and the train pulled out of the station. If it hadn’t been for this damnable war, none of this would have happened. There would have been no goodbyes. The Belgian families would not have arrived. Stefan would have never captured my heart that belonged to another. Olivia would still have her husband. My fear and anger overwhelmed me until I staggered in my stance unable to control my balance.
“Are you all right, miss?” An elderly gentleman came to my side and grabbed my arm, giving me stability.
“Thank you,” I replied. “Feeling a bit faint.”
“Saying goodbye to your husband, I see.”
“Yes, again.”
“Sad days these are,” he groaned. “Lost my only grandson last month.”
Death was everywhere, and my lower lip quivered. “My condolences,” I offered. “Yes, these are sad days indeed.” After regaining the strength in my legs, I left the gentleman and returned to the car to resume my position as Lady Grace and count the days until my goodbyes to Stefan would painfully arrive.
The repeated scene reminded me of my neglectfulness toward Olivia. She had recently left her flat and returned home but in doing so found housing for Anna and her daughter. With Thomas gone, she found no purpose in staying at their marital home surrounded by the fond memories of their marriage, now destroyed by the war. With Benedict’s leave and my selfish pursuits, I had not spoken to Olivia since that terrible day.
At my instruction, the driver took me to her parents’ estate not far from my own. Olivia would be closer now, and I determined in the months ahead to rekindle our friendship. Spending time with her would fill the void, albeit I could not compare my own to her terrible loss.
Although my visit was unplanned, I saw relief on her mother’s face upon my arrival.
“Grace, you have no idea how timely your call is today,” she said, grabbing my hands.
“I’m sorry I have not visited since Olivia’s return, but I felt compelled to see her today.” I glanced about looking for her, but she was nowhere in sight. “How is she, might I ask?”
“Dreadfully melancholy, I’m afraid.”
“I’m not surprised.” Naturally, Olivia’s grief would continue for some time.
“I had no idea,” her mother said, “how much she loved Thomas.”
“She was fortunate to find such an incredible man but so unlucky to have it cruelly taken away.”
“Go talk to her, Grace. She will listen to you. She’s up in her bedroom.”
“I’ll do what I can,” I offered.
Her circumstances had taken her full circle home to the bedchamber we played in together as young girls. When I approached the closed door, I stood silently asking heaven above for wisdom. After a quiet knock on the door, I heard her voice.
“Come in.”
When I turned the doorknob and crossed the threshold, I felt unprepared to deal with what I saw. Olivia had lost weight, and her natural rosy complexion looked like chalk. She appeared as if she hadn’t eaten or slept in weeks.
“Grace,” she said, forcing a smile. “You came to visit.”
“I’m sorry it’s been so long since we last spoke. I’ve been remiss in not checking on you sooner.” I gave her a hug, and my friend clung to me tightly for a few moments. When she pulled away, my heart broke seeing tears well in her eyes.
“Sweet, sweet Olivia, what have you done to yourself?” I sympathetically asked. A slight puff of air escaped her pursed lips.
“I don’t care if I live or die. Each day I wish I could be with Thomas.”
Her lower lip quivered, and I knew she meant every word of it. After taking her hand, I pulled her toward the edge of the bed. We both sat down, and I placed my arm around her waist.
“Thomas would not approve.” I tried not to sound accusatory. More than anything, I wanted to give her hope for a future. “He would want you to dry your tears, cherish the love you shared, but find strength and encouragement to build a happy life in his memory.”
“How can I be happy?” she protested. “He was the love of my life, Grace, and now he’s gone. I can’t even visit his grave and leave flowers. The men who died in Gallipoli are buried in the fields in which they fell and left there for eternity. It’s so cruel.”
“War is cruel,” I responded. “Thomas fought bravely, Grace, of that I’m sure. No doubt you were the last thing on his mind before he left this world.” After brushing he
r wet curls from her cheek, I smiled at her warmly. “He would want you to be happy. You need to start eating and get rest.”
Olivia lowered her face into the palm of her hands. Watching her deal with the loss of the man she loved incited me to declare my self-centered dilemma.
“I just came from taking Benedict to the station.”
Olivia swiftly lifted her head. “You mean he came home?”
“Yes, on leave for two weeks.”
“Oh, how wonderful for you, Grace, to be able to see him.”
“For the most part, yes, but not all of it turned out to be pleasant, I’m afraid.”
“What do you mean?”
Olivia sat upright and gave her attention to me. Perhaps it would help get her mind off her grieving woes if I confessed mine.
“He punched the lieutenant in the jaw.”
“Oh dear, why?”
“Well, I blame it on his mother. You know she can be a meddling witch when she puts her mind to it.” Relaying the story, I became exuberant. “She had the audacity to write to Benedict, suggesting I might be having an affair with Stefan. That was the sole reason he asked for leave to come home and take care of matters as he put it.”
My friend’s eyes grew wide, and I swiftly acted to clarify the falsehood of the accusation.
“You can be assured I have not been unfaithful to Benedict,” I said. Then my brow crinkled as I thought of the truth of the matter. “Well, not physically anyway, but I cannot deny I’ve fantasized about it.” Naturally, I expected Olivia to scold and warn me as she had done before. She sat there studying me for a few moments in silence and then reached out and grabbed my hand.
“Have you fallen in love with him, Grace? The lieutenant, I mean.”
The question haunted me continually. Whatever emotion I felt for Stefan, it had been far different from my sentiments for Benedict. I had spent so much time examining the inner workings of my heart that I could not discern where I stood on the matter. Perhaps I loved them both but in different ways.
“I honestly do not know,” I replied. “Oh, Olivia, I do like him so and have often pondered since his arrival if I shortchanged myself by marrying Benedict. I married for my convenience if nothing else and always held him in high regard. You know that I do.”
Ladies of Disgrace Box Set Page 23
