~*~
Silvia spoke not a word when she returned home. She went straight to her room, locked the door, closed the shades, and undressed. She stirred a fire to life and climbed under her covers and slept.
When she awoke it was dark. She rose to open the drapes. The sun shone bright over newly fallen snow. The brightness and purity of the blanket of white so starkly contrasted with the bleakness of her soul. The memories of the previous day flooded in and she sank to a chair. Cold seeped in through her toes so she roused herself enough to get the fire to a blaze. Her losses crept up on her.
Her father.
Her home.
Bruce.
She thought her fiancé was an honorable man. Where had the compassionate doctor she’d once loved, gone? She rose to do her ablutions and dress. Her hair was a mess so she unbraided it and brushed it out. Staring at herself in the mirror she was shocked at how pale she was. Dark shadows underlined her bloodshot eyes. Had she wept during the night? She couldn’t remember. She twisted her hair up into a bun and secured it. Her black gown reflected her heart. What day was it?
Sunday.
The second Sunday for the banns to be called. She’d talk to Michael and Katrina about cancelling the wedding. Perhaps she’d seek employment as a governess. She couldn’t stay here. Never had she found the prospect of Christmas so depressing. First losing her father and now Bruce.
She descended the stairs and found the breakfast parlour empty. She wandered to the kitchen, inadvertently surprising the cook who was humming a Christmas hymn.
“Oh, miss! If you’da rang a maid would have brought you something.”
“May I have some tea? I’m not terribly hungry.”
“Sit yourself down here, and I’ll take care of you.” The kindly cook bustled about.
Soon a hot cup of tea was in front of her with fresh baked bread and jam. Silvia’s stomach rumbled, and she polished off two slices of bread and jam and two cups of tea.
“Thank you, Mrs. Thomas.”
“You are welcome. It is always a pleasure to serve you.” The cook removed the dishes and continued to bustle about the kitchen. “Get on with you, now. I’s work to do.”
Silvia stood and went in search of her host or hostess. She found them both in the drawing room. She stood in the doorway for a moment before they noticed her.
Michael leapt to his feet. “Silvia. Come in. I hope you are well-rested after your ordeal yesterday.”
Katrina pulled her to sit next to her on the settee. “What’s wrong, Silvia?”
“I need to find employment somewhere.”
“Why? Why would you leave? You’re to be married next week.”
Silvia shook her head. “I don’t think I can do that.”
Michael frowned. “Why not?”
“The young woman…said the baby was Bruce’s.”
“Poppycock,” Michael protested. “When would he have gone anywhere? He didn’t know her. She approached him at his home the day before spouting such nonsense, but he’d never seen her before.”
“A woman in labor doesn’t lie, does she?”
Katrina patted her hand. “She would if she were paid enough.”
“Who would pay a pregnant woman to lie?”
“Mr. Gerald McElroy perhaps?”
“She cursed him at the end. She only said Gerald.”
“See?”
“After hours of painful labor and telling me all about Dr. Miller.”
“She disappeared. Abandoned the baby. Bruce made sure the baby had a good home. Poor thing.” Michael sighed. “Bruce hasn’t left the village for well over a year. He’s not courted any women hereabouts and has been too busy doctoring to attend dances. He’s been faithful, Silvia, to God and to you.”
“I almost lost the baby.”
Katrina wrapped her arms around her. “Sometimes things like that happen. You can’t always save everyone. But with Bruce’s help, you did. And the child has a chance to live a better life.”
“As an orphan?” That was what she was herself. Her heart ached for the discarded child.
“He’ll be cared for by a family in the village. They welcomed the child without reservation. A Christmas blessing was how they referred to him. Named him Nicolas. He will be fine.”
“Maybe so.” She rose and walked to the door. “I’ll be in my room. I do not want to be disturbed.”
“But…” Michael started but, she’d shut the door behind her.
In her room she locked the doors and closed the drapes. The fire was the only light. She stared at the flame before grabbing her Bible. It fell open to Ecclesiastes, chapter three and she started to read.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. What was her purpose? She’d longed for it to be working in medicine, but yesterday she’d almost failed. If Bruce hadn’t arrived, the baby would have died.
A time to be born, and a time to die. Was it that baby’s time to be born? For what purpose? To show her to be a fraud? For trusting in the wrong things? The wrong man? Her own abilities?
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up. She’d come here to grieve the loss of her father and move on to a new life. She’d experienced healing in accomplishing her work and in knowing Bruce’s love, but now? It was as if it had all been torn asunder. Was there any hope of it being restored?
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance. When had she ever danced? She hoped for a time of laughter and joy with her marriage to Bruce, but now it seemed those dreams were as ashes in the fireplace.
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together. Cast away? Certainly, an apt description of how lost she felt. That little boy had been cast away as well but had been gathered into a new family.
A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing. Her time for either had passed. Was Bruce really innocent? Hours of hearing his character torn apart was difficult to erase from her memory. Was that woman really that good of an actress or were those words true?
A time to get, and a time to lose. She thought maybe she’d gain a husband, a family, and her own opportunity to serve and in one morning it was dross.
A time to keep, and a time to cast away. Could she keep Bruce? Would he even want her after her failure? If the woman truly lied was Silvia casting him away for naught?
A time to rend, and a time to sew. She didn’t know if her heart could be stitched back together as she had done to Bruce’s wound.
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak. There were no words to speak right now. Silence was her only solace. Christmas carols about peace and joy failed to bring comfort.
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. Love and peace seemed unreachable. Did Sir McElroy despise her so much that he’d spend money to destroy her one hope of happiness?
No answers and only questions. She set aside her Bible and climbed back into bed, fully dressed, and cried herself to sleep.
10
Bruce finally saddled his mare to ride to Hart Manor. He’d slept away an entire day. His side ached as he pulled himself onto the horse’s back, but once he was moving, he felt better. He had Silvia’s black bag with him. He’d heard nothing from Michael or her since that morning, and the wedding was only days away. Soon. Soon he’d be waking up to her by his side. He could hardly wait.
Montague opened the door and bade him entrance. He was shown into Michael’s study.
“The study, Michael? Not the drawing room? Have I transgressed somehow?”
“’Tis more private here.” Michael rose and locked the door. “Come. Sit. Would you like some brandy?”
“’Twould be welcome. Winter has come. The snow makes everything appear fresh and clean.”
He accepted the glass, and Michael sat across from him, no smile on his face.
“What’s amis
s? Is Katrina well?”
Michael startled. “Katrina? She’s in good health as are the children.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Silvia hasn’t been the same since returning from the birthing.”
“How so?”
“Sleeping a lot. Locked in her room. What little she’s spoken indicates she wants to leave. Cancel the wedding.”
Bruce slumped in his seat and sipped some of the brandy. The warm burn reminded him he was still alive. He swallowed hard and set down the glass. “She’d leave me?”
Michael nodded. “She hasn’t left yet, but I’m concerned for her. She seemed a serious person from the moment I met her, but determined. It’s as if she believes she has nothing for which to live.”
“May I see her?”
“The woman was lying, wasn’t she? I didn’t defend you for nothing.”
“Of course, she was. I never had the inclination to seek pleasures outside of marriage. I buried myself in my work instead. When I got that letter from Silvia, old hopes rekindled, and I suddenly longed for everything you and Marcus and your friends share.”
“Which is?”
“Love. A family.”
Michael smiled. “I never dared dream I would experience this depth of contentment. It was worth fighting for.”
“And now I must fight for mine.”
Michael nodded. “It would seem so.”
“May I see her?”
“She’ll refuse you.”
“Sounds as though she’s sick and needs a physician.”
“I agree.”
Michael retrieved the master key and walked with Bruce to Silvia’s bedroom. “You realize if I allow you in here alone you will have compromised her and will need to marry her.”
“I only need to convince her that it is the best course of action.” Bruce frowned. Not quite how he’d hoped to enter the parson’s mousetrap.
“She loves you, of that I’m certain.”
“I pray you are correct. Pray for a Christmas miracle.”
“I will do so.” Michael slowly unlocked the door and stepped back. With a nod he walked away.
Bruce took a deep breath and slowly opened the door to a darkened room. The fire was low. He closed the door behind him and strode across the carpet to stir the embers back to life. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he spied Silvia curled under the covers, her hair escaping its pins. He quietly moved to the bed, setting her bag on a chair. He sat on the counterpane and began to pull the pins out gently. He watched with fascination as her hair loosened. He set aside the pins, hoping he’d found all of them, and then let his fingers stroke a strand of silk. She slept soundly, dark shadows under her eyelids, tear stains on her cheeks.
“Oh, my poor love.” He caressed her cheek.
Her lashes fluttered and finally, she turned to focus on him. “Bruce?”
“Good afternoon, sweetheart. I missed you.”
“Am I sick that the doctor makes a house call?”
“Perhaps. I’m told melancholia struck you down.”
“I concur with your diagnosis. But you’re the doctor and I am not.”
“Don’t belittle your skills. You are the helpmate I believe God designed for me.”
“The baby.”
“He has a home and a family to care for him and was not my child.”
She sighed. “How could she be so convincing? How could Sir McElroy hate me so much?”
“I believe it’s me he wanted to destroy.”
“I can understand why.”
“Really? Do tell.” He allowed his hand to play with more of her hair as she talked.
“You are everything he isn’t.”
“In what way?”
“You are a gentleman. You treat everyone with dignity, even an orphaned babe. You give unselfishly of yourself to help others. And you encourage me to use my gifts.”
“So, you admit you are gifted.”
“I’ve been questioning the validity of that self-assessment.”
“You are gifted,” he said. “And we need to trust that baby will grow in wisdom and grace in his new home. The family is adopting him, making him legally theirs so he won’t bear the shame of being baseborn.”
“I don’t deserve someone like you.”
“I hope always to be worthy of you, my dear.”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t believe her lies, do you?”
“No. Michael explained how impossible it would have been. But it’s hard to erase hours of her screaming about you while in labor.”
“She must have been compensated well for that performance. It almost worked.”
“Yes. Almost.”
“Do you think you could bear to stand by my side and speak vows with me on Sunday?”
“I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That you will find life with me full of disappointment.”
“I’m certain I will.”
“What?” She pushed herself up.
“I’m sure we will both disappoint each other. It happens. It does not mean we might not also find joy, peace, and contentment in between those moments, as well.”
“A time for everything under heaven.”
“Ecclesiastes. Yes. You are a practical realist. You didn’t think we’d never endure hardship or struggle, did you?”
“No. But I suppose somewhere deep inside, I’d hoped for it.”
“Hope is a powerful thing. Do you want to know what I hope for?”
“What?”
“To spend the rest of my life with you by my side through it all, to love, cherish, and experience whatever God has in store for us.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“I will still marry you.” She sat up and placed a hand along his cheek. “It is highly improper for you to be in my room unchaperoned.”
“Michael warned me that I would need to marry you now, because I’ve well and truly compromised you.”
She grinned. “Then I suggest you at least kiss me. I need something to sustain me until our wedding day.”
Bruce acquiesced to her request with great pleasure.
As he pulled back, he shook his head. “You tempt me to stay for far more. Do you think you could rise and meet me downstairs? I long to spend time with my future bride without thoroughly compromising her. There are some activities I’d prefer to save for our wedding night.”
Silvia grinned and nodded. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He rose and with one final kiss he left the room.
11
Christmas morning found the church packed. The minister stood at the front and called the banns one last time. As no objections were given, he called for the wedding to commence.
Michael escorted Silvia down the aisle to her beloved who gave her a smile of encouragement. The service was long, and she itched for it to be over so they could be alone, yet knew that it would be hours before Bruce would be able to spirit her away to his home. Lord and Lady Remington were hosting their reception at Rose Hill and the entire village was invited to join in the celebration.
Bruce and Silvia were pronounced man and wife and were soon exiting to find the snow softly falling from the sky. Coins were tossed as they ran to the carriage. Inside, Bruce leaned over and kissed her thoroughly.
“That my dear, was the appetizer.”
“I’m hungry for far more.”
“Patience. We waited years for this day and a few more hours to honor our guests will make tonight all the sweeter.
“I’m glad Sir Tidley has given us use of his townhouse in London. I long to show you some of the sights.”
“I anticipate the ones I’ll see tonight. I need to check how well you’ve healed from your surgery.”
Bruce blushed.
She placed her hand alongside his face. “I love you, Dr. Miller.”
He kissed her. “I love you Mrs. Miller.”
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