Chapter Fifteen

Climbing into a buggy challenged Blair, but he managed with assistance from Simmons and Grady. Right leg propped on pillows, he settled back next to Rowena, their hands clasped, for the ride home to Fairhaven.

Under a pale blue sky, the winter sun glowed golden on tips of winter grass waving in the wind. Drifts of snow melted in the afternoon warmth.

Blair drew a deep breath. Though tired, at least he felt better than he had in several days, which wasn’t saying much, considering. He squeezed Rowena’s hand. “With luck this warm spell will last long enough to allow everyone to attend our Christmas party.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Leave it, let him do this.

“Me? It’s you ladies who do all the work. I’ll just sit by and supervise.”

With a worried frown, she glanced at Simmons. He nodded and showed his teeth.

Blair studied the two of them. “You two conspire all the time, don’t you? The lord of the manor going to jail surely can’t cause much of a disruption in your plans. I’m fine. I feel good…well, better. I’ll make a brief appearance, assure everyone I’m back to normal—well, as normal as possible—and the festivities can continue while I hide out in the study.”

Her head on his shoulder, she said, “If you’re so determined, it’s fine with me.”

“You’ll be a perfect hostess. You are, after all, the lady of the manor.” As for his day-to-day life and dealing with the visions and nightmares, he and Rowena would continue to be on guard. Proctor said “cured” wasn’t the proper term. “Controlled,” he had told him, was what he should shoot for. And that he would do. With her help, anything was possible.

That western term “shoot for.” He liked that. Understood the chances involved.

They arrived at Fairhaven in time for tea, which Blair and Rowena would take in his study.

Annie came in with tea, eyes bright and shiny, and bobbed her usual curtsy. “It’s so good to have you both back.”

The tray was piled with three thick meat pies, a large bowl of chicken soup, biscuits, and cinnamon sweet cakes. A pot held steaming tea, and there was rich cream and sugar.

“From the looks of this, You’ll have us fattened up in no time.” Blair poured Rowena’s tea, passed her the pies. “One for you, two for me.” He managed a weary grin.

Both Annie and Rowena laughed.

“Would you send Grady in when you’ve finished tea? No hurry.”

“I will, sir. You two eat everything now, or I’m likely to think you no longer like my cooking. If there’s anything else we can get you, just let us know.” She trotted from the room. Probably to join Grady so they could visit while eating. He envied the couple their easy rapport.

Rowena leaned into his shoulder. “I’m tired, and I know you are. Let’s take a nap after tea. Just lie in the stillness and hold each other.”

“That, my dear, is a fine idea.” He took a bite of the meat pie. “Hmm, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

They finished eating, leaving only a few crumbs. She rose, picked up his crutches, and handed them to him. “Need any help?”

“No, I’m fine.” He clomped to the bed, let the things rattle to the floor, and sank onto the mattress. By the time he’d shed his clothes, Rowena was under the covers, having worn only her afternoon frock for the journey home.

He stretched out and waited for the throbbing in his leg to abate somewhat before reaching for her. She curled up against him, and he was nearly asleep when a knock came on the door.

“Captain, sir. You wanted me?”

Damn, he’d forgotten about sending for Grady. He called for him to enter.

The tall, jovial man remained near the door. “I could come back, Captain.”

“That might be best. We’ll talk later this evening, if you don’t mind.”

The door snicked closed, and Blair sighed, draped an arm over Rowena’s waist. Careful of the bandage on his wrist, lest she hurt him, she captured his hand and tucked it up against her heart.

****

Rowena awoke, spooned against Blair, who lay so still she knew he was asleep. Despite all that had happened, here they were, she and the man she loved, in each other’s arms.

Visions of the past couple of days invaded her thoughts, and anger overcame her contentment.

Stop. Don’t think about it. Let it go. He’s here and alive.

Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the windows, painting patterns across the Egyptian rug. Without putting on a robe she slipped out of bed and padded to the window in her chemise to gaze out across the stark winter prairie.

“If that isn’t a lovely sight.” Ragged but determined words.

She turned. Blair was sitting on the edge of the mattress, gazing at her. He reached out, and she ran across the room, slipped between his legs and into his arms.

Her fingertips touched his battered face gently. “Your poor beautiful face.”

Eyes closed, he laid his head against her chest. His breath fanned hot through the thin fabric. “Thank you.”

“I’m still so angry. I close my eyes and see them dragging you around, kicking you, throwing you into the corner of that cell like a piece of garbage.”

Hands splayed beneath the hem of the thin garment, he stroked her body. “Come back to bed. Let’s hold each other. You are my one true love, my link to reality.”

“Yes, sweetheart.” Whispered so only he, in the entire universe, could hear.

He lay back and she lifted his legs, taking great care with the splinted one, placed them under the covers, before she went to the far side and crawled in beside him. Curled against him, she outlined the battle scars on his body with trembling fingertips. Moved to kiss every inch of his face.

A sigh emanated from deep down inside him. “You washed my hair. It felt so good. I hurt so much, and you knew just what to do.”

“Do you still hurt?”

For a while he said nothing, then he nodded, as if ashamed to admit it aloud.

“Show me where, and I’ll fix it.”

He lifted her hand and trailed it slowly down the center of his chest, over his flat, hard belly, and to his erection. “Can you fix that for me first?”

“Yes, sweetheart. You lie still, close your eyes, and rest. I’ll take care of everything.”

And she did.

He fell asleep in her arms. Tears poured from her eyes, and for a long while she couldn’t stop them.

She loved him so much, and seeing him hurt was almost more than she could abide. But having him alive… Now that was something to be thankful for.

****

When his eyes flicked open, there lurking in the shadows was a figure dressed in the red-and-white uniform of his unit. Blood drenched his shirt and pants. Paris had fallen to the enemy, the brutal Prussians. He must move, get out of the way before they found him. Tossed him back in that cell.

His arms, under the covers. Something there. He pulled them free, gazed at his bandaged wrists. Holy bloody hell? What was this?

When he tried to move, agony erupted in his leg. Had he been hit? Where was he? A room of some sort. It was dark. Someone lay beside him. Cautiously, he moved a hand over the sleeping figure. A woman.

She stirred, and he jerked his hand away. She might be armed. But why sleep with him?

“Blair? Are you okay, darling?”

She touched him and he pulled away. Shook his head. His body felt like he’d been marched over by a hundred boots. Prussian boots.

Someone shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. You’re having a bad dream. Wake up, sweetheart.” A kiss on his cheek and he came awake with a start.

“Rowena. Oh, God.” He rubbed his tender face, groaned.

She put her arms around him. “It’s okay. We’re okay. You’re home, darling. Home.”

He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “Yes, I am indeed home.”

The next morning, Grady followed Annie into the study when she came to pick up their breakfast tray.

“You wanted to see us, Captain? Is now a good time?”

Blair sat in one of the two chairs by the windows, waiting for Rowena to finish her morning toilet. Spread before him were all her notes on the Christmas party. Seating arrangements, designs for place cards which she would make herself, and endless lists, from guests to food to hired help.

“Yes, both of you come in, please.”

“How you doing, Captain?”

“Doing well, thank you. Sit, won’t you?”

Annie sat in the chair, while Grady squatted on his haunches next to her, his favorite way to sit.

“I have an errand for you, Grady. I want you to go to Victoria and make arrangements with that…”—he gestured with a hand—“that phrenologist. Can’t remember her name. Ask Simmons. I gave him a note asking her to begin treatments. Tell her I’ll pay whatever she needs if she can come here, at least for the first few visits until I’m back on my feet and can journey into town myself.”

“Sure, Captain, I can do that. No one may have told you. That phrenologist is my mother, it’s a long story for another time. All right if I take Annie? She’s needing some more supplies for this party. Simmons says you told him it’s still on.”

“I can see I need to do some catching up. Indeed the party is on, and of course you may take her with you. Were I you, I’d want this comely lass with me no matter where I went.”

Grady and Annie both blushed, and Blair smiled.

“When are you two getting married?” he asked.

“We’ve been thinking for a while about it, but we’re not exactly sure what we would do. That is, if we could stay on here, or should move on to something else.” Grady shrugged.

“I’m so pleased to hear that. I have to tell you, Annie, you’ll be getting a handful with this stubborn fellow. Grady is the lucky one. Your, um, situation hasn’t been exactly a well kept secret, and I’ve been thinking. This place is big, too big for those of us who live here. I’d be pleased to let you have the large bedchamber in the north wing, and run of the house as far as the kitchen is concerned, if you two in turn would continue to work for me, at an increase in salaries, of course.”

Grady’s grin split his plain face, and Annie laughed and bobbed her head, their hands clasped.

“If you need to think about it, that’s fine,” Blair teased.

“No, Captain. I think we’re both pleased to work for you. That’s most generous of you.”

“Well, we can’t have you sharing those small servants’ quarters, now can we? And while we’re about it, what is with Lizza? She appears to be very happy working here, though she’s here as a guest.”

“You would need to ask her, sir.” Annie patted Grady’s shoulder. “But I don’t think she would be insulted if you were to offer her a job. She’s beginning to feel as if she’s imposing, though she helps out with the cooking and a bit of cleaning as well. Says as long as you allow her to remain here, it’s the least she can do.”

“Well, then, it’s time she is paid more than room and board. I shall approach her. I’m sure you appreciate the help in this big place. Do you think we need to hire more hands? I believe that’s the term these westerners use.”

“Grady could use some help with the outdoor chores. There’s the wood and the fires to keep up, the animals to feed and care for, and the milking, plus he runs all the errands…”

Grady tapped her hand gently and shook his head. Annie flushed and broke off. “Sorry, sir.”

“Not at all. I’m thinking of buying some riding horses. Morgans, like Sarge, not those little ponies we rode in England. In that case, we would need a stable hand to help care for the stock. And Grady, I’d like you to care for the horses. Be the groom. That can wait until spring.”

Grady nodded. “Suits me very well. That be all, sir, we’ll get on in to town so we can get back for tea time. Fine weather we’re having. Sure hope it holds for the party. And I’ll not forget to talk to Mom about coming to see you.”

****

Blair met with Hildegarde Smythe the week before the Christmas party. Simmons escorted her to the study, where he waited in his favorite chair by the window, a book in his lap.

Because this meeting was private, Rowena had kissed him and hurried off to supervise plans for the party.

Smythe wore an ankle-length plaid skirt topped with a heavy brown shirt belted at the waist, her long gray hair tied back by a flowing orange scarf. No sign of hoops or a corset to support her somewhat heavy breasts. He made to rise to greet the oddly dressed woman.

“Oh, please. Do remain seated, Lord Prescott,” she said in a low-pitched voice, then turned to Simmons.

“I will only be able to make two calls here this week. Lord Prescott will have to arrange to see me at my office after the first of the year. I do not like to venture out after the weather turns bad.” She shivered. “I do not suppose I will ever get accustomed to these harsh winters.”

Simmons exchanged a look with Blair.

“That will be quite acceptable,” Blair said as if she had addressed him. Odd that she hadn’t. Perhaps she thought him quite mad and unreasonable.

“Ah,” she said and flushed, both hands cupping her cheeks. “I do beg your pardon, sir.”

Blair nodded. “Please, sit here where it’s comfortable. I apologize for the bed, it’s only temporary until I can climb stairs again.”

“This is quite cozy. May I call you something besides Lord Prescott?”

He smiled. “Whatever you would like. May I call you something besides Mrs. Smythe?”

Her laughter told him what he wanted to know. She had a sense of humor.

“Of course, dear boy. Shall we settle on Blair and Hilda? If you don’t think that too personal.”

“Done. Now, are you going to be rubbing my head, or what?”

“Eventually. What has the good Doctor Proctor told you about these sessions?”

“Not a lot. I would be more interested in what he’s told you about me.”

“Only that he suggested you consult me for your problems, but not what they were. That is personal information, and not something he could share. You shall reveal what you wish.” She paused and studied him closely. “I will admit I expected someone of rather, um, well less—”

“Good sense? Perhaps I should drool for you.”

Again that throaty laugh. “Not at all. Certainly not. I simply expected you to be more confused over what has happened to you. You aren’t the first patient I’ve treated suffering from nostalgia. Some call it soldier’s heart.”

“Sounds almost poetic. An odd name to put on something so dark and upsetting.” Blair gazed out the window at the vast prairie of dried grasses, blown free of snow by a brutal wind. It was hard to talk about any of this, even to someone there for that purpose. But he would try.

“So perhaps I can expect you to help me. He said I could tell you anything. Things I don’t dare tell anyone else for fear they will hate me. Some are so very private, though. I wonder if it will help at all to relate them.”

“My dear Blair, you must rid yourself of that fear, and perhaps we can help you do that. People who love you are bound to understand much more than you think they will.” She glanced at him with a knowing wink. “Or at the least, tolerate it.”

He liked this woman, liked her a lot, but how much he could tell her remained to be seen. No one who had not been through war, seen what he’d seen, and, worse, done some of the things he’d done, could possibly understand how he felt or why he sometimes experienced those times again. Not as memories, but as if he’d been dropped back onto the killing fields. He didn’t understand that himself. But she was correct. It was possible that those who loved him could tolerate his odd behavior if they were allowed to know what caused it.

With a great deal of reluctance he admitted to her how he sometimes saw and heard things that were not real, but seemed so real, so threatening that he reacted accordingly. She moved to stand behind his chair and spread her strong fingers over his scalp in a way that felt so good he closed his eyes and sighed.

She said “hmm” and “aha” a few times, then massaged some more, but said nothing about what she thought, just urged him to talk about how he felt regarding his own experiences and reactions. She listened thoughtfully. He finally admitted that he thought himself quite mad when these attacks came upon him, and often distanced himself from Rowena because he feared hurting her.

“Is she frightened of you?”

“No, she says not, and I would never hurt her intentionally. I love her. She’s my lifeline to reality. I regret having to tell her to be fearful of me when I’m having one of my nightmares.” He would eventually tell this woman of the agreement he’d made with the three Duncan women, but didn’t feel it pertinent now.

“How often do you have those?”

“Hard to keep track. When she holds my hand against her heart, I am sometimes able to get through a night without one. She says her heartbeat connects us and she is protecting me. Of course, that is rubbish, but still, why it works I cannot explain.”

Her strange violet eyes flickered, and she held his gaze for a long moment. “Have you considered that you have bonded with her? Tell me, have you entertained thoughts of killing yourself?”

The switch confused him, and for a moment he wasn’t sure what to reply. “I don’t know. I can’t remember. But I may have.” Blair instantly wondered why he had admitted that to her. He didn’t know her. How could he trust her? Could she have him committed, like Proctor and Weatherby had both suggested? He would have to be very careful.

She rose from the chair where she’d been seated after massage his head, moved to him, and reached out. He took her hand and was amazed at the compassion of her touch.

“My dear boy. I am not here to judge you, only to help you. Please believe me when I say that my desire is only to give you peace. No matter what you tell me, there will be no consequences.” Her thin lips lifted into a wry smile. “Consider me your priest, if you will.”

She held his gaze for a long while, almost as if she could read his mind, then patted the back of his hand. “Well, look there how time flies. I must leave, but I shall return Friday at the same time. You will be ready for me?”

He nodded at the gentle demand, and she turned loose of him, her long fingers dragging along his palm.

He wasn’t sure the session had gained them anything, yet he felt strangely calm. She appeared satisfied and said when she returned they would get “closer to the bone.” Her exact words. Closer to the bone.

It seemed a very odd thing to say.