Celia’s lip quivered, and he gave her another quick hug.
“Have you said goodbye to your father?” I abruptly inquired.
“I’ll be stopping by the hospital to do so on my way.” Stefan put on his hat, tugged his uniform into place, and smiled at all of us in one sweeping glance as he swung his duffle bag over his shoulder. “Well, then I’ll be on my way. The taxi is waiting.”
“Let me walk you to the door,” I offered, keeping my eyes away from Florence’s disapproval. Stefan allowed me the honor to escort him, but Celia tagged along behind us.
“I’m coming too,” she insisted.
Slightly irritated she had taken from me the privacy I needed, I could only express my anguish through a whisper.
“Why now?”
“It is better this way,” he replied. “If I stay, you know it will only lead to heartache.” Seemingly uncomfortable as Celia watched our conversation, he looked at her. “Sweetheart, go outside and tell the cabby I’ll be right there.”
“Okay.”
Stefan pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “This is for you, Grace. Read it after I’m gone.” He looked at me affectionately while my lower lip trembled. “Goodbye sweet Grace.”
Immediately he stepped outdoors and gave Celia one last hug. As I watched from the open doorway, my heart broke. Closing my eyes, I couldn’t bear to see another man leave for war. I listened as the car door opened, closed, and the tires crunch the pebbles underneath its tires as it drove away. The next I knew, Celia had run toward me, throwing her arms around my waist.
“I don’t want him to die,” she blubbered, heaving up and down in frightful tears.
“Neither do I, darling.” Kneeling down before her, I held her tenderly. “Look at me, Celia.” She wiped her nose with her sleeve and then brought her eyes to meet mine. “Every day you and I will say a prayer for your brother that God will keep him safe.”
“Will God hear us?” she innocently asked.
“I hope so, dearest,” I replied. “I hope so.” We clung to each other for a few more minutes.
“Why don’t you find Mrs. Smit and ask her to take you to the kitchen for a sweet snack?”
“Okay. I could use something sweet to feel better,” she said, trying to smile.
As Celia ran down the hall, I returned upstairs to my room and closed the door behind me. My hands trembled clutching the envelope and breaking the seal.
“Dearest Grace. Forgive me for my abrupt departure. I think we both know that should I remain any longer at Stratton Park, we would partake in an affair with no positive outcome. As I leave you behind, be assured that you have captured my soul. If I could, I would marry you and never let you go. Providence, however, has not given us that gift. I shall, my love, carry you in my heart forever and cherish the memory of our night together. Love, Stefan.”
How brutally right his words were to my wounded heart. As much as I hated to admit it, the man I had fallen in love with would never be mine. Instead, my heart had to return to Benedict, but I refused for Celia’s sake and my sanity to stop praying that Stefan would survive the war.
Nervous Florence might find the penned note, I read it repeatedly until I had memorized his words. Afterward, I took a match by the fireplace, lit it at the corners, and tossed it into the hearth. As the paper burned and the words disappeared into unrecognizable ashes, I whispered, “I love you, Stefan.”
Chapter Eighteen
Unexpected Tidings
As the weeks passed, letters arrived from both Benedict and Stefan. I felt torn between two men—the one I had vowed my life to in matrimony and the other I had given my heart in love. Stefan corresponded through his father and to Celia, who in turn reported to us he had been on the western front at Yser. Benedict, on the other hand, remained in France. His letters were less frequent, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he were punishing me for my poorly hidden sentiments about Stefan. Florence had written and told him the lieutenant had returned to the front lines. No doubt he felt relieved my temptation had departed.
To fill the void I felt, I spent most of my time at Stratton Park with Celia, making sure she kept active. At the insistence of her father, he hired a private tutor to visit three times a week to return her to the routine of schooling. Celia balked at the notion, but I encouraged her to be obedient and do her best, as most young ladies did not have the opportunities for education.
Thankfully, Percy recovered from his cold, for which we were all grateful. The scare had reminded me to put my focus back on family and our son. Nevertheless, it did not completely repress the lingering affections for Stefan. Daydreaming about our night together had become a regular occurrence, especially in bed alone each night.
After two months had passed, I woke with morning queasiness. When my menses failed to arrive on schedule, it had become evident I had become pregnant. The closeness of my intimacy with Benedict and Stefan brought my state of mind into a panic. How would I ever know who had fathered the child? The guilt of my misdeed, no matter how wonderful it had been, brought dread to my heart.
Before writing to Benedict with the news or even suggesting to Florence I might be with child, I waited until the third month of my missed menses. With the continued physical symptoms and the rounding of my belly, I didn’t need our practitioner’s confirmation. Unable to express my condition to anyone, I sought out my only friend in Olivia.
Thankfully, she gradually recovered from the loss of Thomas but remained with her parents. Upon my arrival, she revealed shocking news that added to my fretfulness.
“I’m getting married again.”
“What?” My mouth gaped open in shock.
“My parents arranged an amicable marriage with a fine gentleman named Gerard Killingworth. He is the elder son of a viscount who will inherit his title and lands. My parents find him and his family acceptable, of course.”
“But Olivia, are you ready so soon after Thomas’s death to engage your affections with another man?”
“He’s a fine fellow, and I have no qualms about marrying him. Although, my affections are far less passionate than they were with Thomas.” She lowered her eyes, appearing embarrassed over her confession.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” I frowned with skepticism. “You’ve experienced true love once before, and I wouldn’t think you would settle for anything less than it the second time.”
“If I’ve learned anything,” she said with a firm jaw, “it’s that true love can bring more pain than it’s worth. At least my parents will be pleased with the match, and my acceptance of their suggestions has healed our relationship.”
“I see.” Resigning myself to her choices, I despaired telling her my news. As I ruminated inwardly, my crinkled brow showed my distress. Olivia noticed it straight away.
“How are things with you?”
“I’m pregnant.” The words flew from my lips as if I needed to confess my sin that I had been holding inside for months. Had she been a priest, I would have asked for absolution.
“How wonderful, Grace.” In her exuberance, she gave me a quick hug. “Benedict must be so happy.”
Benedict. My poor husband, wandering the trenches in France and experiencing hell. Suddenly I felt awful for not writing, thinking the delightful news might give him hope.
“I’ve not told him yet.” My lower lip quivered. Of course, the truth of the matter prevented my confession. “I’m not sure if he or Stefan is the father of the child.”
Olivia brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. “Oh, dear Lord in heaven,” she exclaimed. “You mean you...” Her words trailed off as if she were waiting for me to finish the sentence.
“After our conversation of last, I went to him. You told me to grab whatever I could for a few moments of joy, and I did.” The appalling shock on her face surprised me. I felt cheeky to have blamed my actions because of her advice.
“It appears my mourning had encouraged you far too well,” she replied, nervo
usly clutching her hands together. “I cannot help but feel somewhat responsible.”
“You have no responsibility whatsoever for my choices,” I swiftly assured her. “I fell in love with him and he with me. It just happened.”
“Have you told him you are pregnant?”
“No, he left immediately afterward and returned to his regiment.”
“Oh, Grace, I’m so sorry. What will you do?”
“Have the baby and raise it as Benedict’s child. What else can I do?”
“What a dreadful state of affairs,” she groaned. Olivia wrapped her arm around my shoulder.
“I’m beginning to show, so I need to tell Florence and write to Benedict.”
“Will you tell Stefan?”
“No.” I sighed. “I dare not write him directly through his father, but no doubt he’ll discover it soon enough when the news is announced.”
“Perhaps Benedict will come home from the front,” she said in an encouraging tone.
“I doubt it. He’s too patriotic to ask for another leave when fighting needs to be done.” As I finished my words, a wave of nausea swept through my body, reminding me further of my condition. The joy I should have felt upon having another child felt doused with distress. For my sanity, I needed to focus on the future.
“Will you invite me to the wedding?” I purposely asked, wishing to take my mind elsewhere.
“More than that,” Olivia said, flashing a broad smile. “Will you be my matron of honor?”
Faced with the realization I would witness her second marriage to someone she did not love, I hesitated. “Oh, Olivia, tell me you are not making a mistake.” She lowered her head and sat motionless for a few minutes.
“I have no worries that he, too, will be sent overseas as he was unable to serve due to chronic asthma. At least I need not fear he will die anytime soon and break my heart.”
“Still...” My lips pursed in disagreement. “You don’t love him.”
“He’s a fine enough fellow,” Olivia half-heartedly replied. “I’m sure that he will treat me with respect. Then perhaps I will have a baby too.”
Naturally, I couldn’t deny Olivia should enjoy motherhood, having remembered she and Thomas were unable to succeed. Even if her new marriage would not compare to the relationship with her deceased husband, at least she would have comfort in children.
“Then I would be honored.”
“Thank you, my dear friend.” Olivia gave me a tight hug.
“Girls, would you like some tea and cake?” Olivia’s mother stood in the parlor threshold, smiling at us.
“That would be nice, Mother,” Olivia replied. “Grace has agreed to be my matron of honor.”
“Splendid!”
“I hope you’ve chosen Olivia a kind gentleman who will cherish and love her,” I said, giving her mother a subtle hint of disapproval in my gaze.
“Stop worrying about me.” Olivia scolded me in return. “I’ll be fine.”
For her sake, I despised the notion she settled because of her brokenness over losing Thomas. My hand rested gently on my belly, reminding me of my future. I would bear a son or daughter who might never know who had fathered their life.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING as I sat at the breakfast table, I felt extremely ill. Doctor Reyer had joined us for the meal. Florence sat sipping her tea and reading the paper while Celia rattled like a chatterbox at her father, attempting to gain as much attention as possible.
After spooning a few scrambled eggs upon my plate, I passed by the remaining food selections. When I sat down, I took a piece of dry toast and left the butter and marmalade far from my reach. My actions immediately piqued Martin’s attention.
“No appetite this morning?”
“I’m afraid not.” Not quite ready to explain the reason why I ignored his inquiry, I turned my attention to Celia, who had decided to focus on her food. As I considered doing something with her wild hair again, Doctor Reyer interrupted my thoughts.
“Stefan has managed to write.” He pulled out an envelope from the inside pocket of his waistcoat. “By the look of its condition, I’m surprised it made it to England.” The paper looked dirty and tattered as if it had been drenched by the muddy fields of the front lines.
“Good news, I hope.” Without thought, the words flew from between my lips, and with uncontrolled excitement, I perked up like a wilted flower. Everyone noticed, including Florence, who disapprovingly pulled her mouth to one side.
“As good as can be expected,” he somberly replied. “He remains unharmed, and for that I am grateful.”
“What else does he say, Papa?” Celia attempted to snatch the envelope, but her father pulled it away from her grasp.
“He sends his love to you Celia and best wishes to the Smits and the rest of the household.”
The rest of the household. My heart sank. What did I expect him to say—send my love to Grace? The mentioning of his name and the knowledge of his whereabouts inflamed my emotions to an uncontrollable moan.
“Excuse me,” I abruptly announced. In a quick movement, I rose and pushed the chair out from underneath me. “I’m not well.” Doctor Reyer stood to his feet and halted my step with a soft touch upon my forearm.
“Is there something that I can do?”
“What is it, Grace? If you are ill, let Martin tend to you,” Florence ordered.
Nervously I glanced at my mother-in-law, Celia, and then saw the Smits heading in our direction to join us for breakfast. As I considered the opportunity, I decided to take up his offer.
“Might we talk in private, Doctor Reyer? Perhaps in my husband’s study.”
“Yes, of course.” He nodded at Florence. “If you would excuse me for a moment, Lady Russell.”
With a quick step, I headed down the hall as Martin followed me. Once inside, I hastily shut the door. A terrible urge to blurt out my dilemma tingled on my tongue. His brow furrowed, showing his concern as the seconds ticked to the tune of the clock on the mantel. At last I uttered the words.
“I believe I’m pregnant, Doctor Reyer.”
He stared at me wide-eyed. “And why do you think you are pregnant?” he asked. “What are your symptoms?”
“I’ve missed my menses for three months,” I shyly admitted. “The morning nausea, as you can see, has plagued me for the past month.” When I lowered my head and placed my hands on my abdomen, I indicated the obvious. “My belly, I’m afraid, is beginning to round.”
“Well then, I agree you must be with child, but it’s not my responsibility to examine you. I suggest, Lady Grace, you see your private medical professional regarding the matter.” His demeanor became sullen and irritable. The atmosphere in the room grew tense as I stood before him, witnessing his accusatory stare. I responded in a defensive tone.
“Why do you look at me with such disregard?” My chest heaved. “You asked me my symptoms, and I have told you. My husband shall be elated we are having another child.”
Without hesitation, he shot back, narrowing his eyes at me. “Are you sure it’s your husband’s or is it my son’s?”
Overwhelmed by the accusation, I stumbled backward until I felt myself flush to a chair. “How dare you presume to suggest I am an adulteress?” Suddenly I felt trapped as his formidable demeanor stood before me. My face burned with embarrassment, signifying my guilt.
“I’ve been keenly aware of my son’s regard for you and you for him,” he continued. “The early-morning hours in which you awakened me to tend Percy had confirmed what I had suspected the evening before.”
“Suspected what?” I asked as my body trembled.
“I had found the bright moonlight streaming into my bedroom that evening to be somewhat annoying and rose to close the draperies. When I glanced out the window, I saw you leave the manor. Naturally, I knew where your midnight walk would take you based on the direction you were heading.”
“You know nothing.” My continued denial felt as if I were burying myself alive in shovels of
lies.
“I know full well, Lady Grace. Before I went to work, I confronted Stefan regarding the encounter between the two of you. The boy has never been able to lie to me straight to my face, so he admitted what had transpired. To save you both from further disgrace, I ordered him to leave posthaste since he was well enough to do so.”
After finishing his startling announcement, I plopped down into a nearby chair. My legs lost their strength as I stood accused, judged, and found guilty by the testimony of my lover. Why had Stefan told his father? He had betrayed our secret and put me in grave danger of losing everything. Impulsively I buried my face in my hands.
“You have not told Lady Russell, have you?” My voice cracked in trepidation.
“No, it’s not my position to expose your indiscretions. Since the child, I’m assuming, could very well be your husband’s.”
Sheepishly I lifted my head and saw he had softened his countenance to one of pity. “Thank you, Doctor Reyer.”
He pulled out his pocket watch and noted the time. “If you will excuse me, I must take my leave to the hospital.” He hesitated and then spoke in a harsh tone. “I shall not tell my son of your condition. The less he knows, the better.”
As he left me alone, trembling in the chair in which I landed, I feared Florence would suspect the same scenario. Remembering she had inquired as to why I was dressed so early in the morning hours while standing in Percy’s nursery, it could be plausible she might presume the child may not be Benedict’s baby. My heart pounded in my chest as I considered the outcome of my announcement.
After deliberating about my state of affairs, I rose to my feet and proceeded to the dining room to find Florence, Celia, and the Smits finishing their breakfast. I returned to my seat and took a sip of my cold tea. Florence gave me no rest and immediately questioned me.
“What did Martin say?”
Ladies of Disgrace Box Set Page 25
