Her third and final year began. Although Natasha missed the orphanage, she was thrilled to be back at the university. She was sitting on her own at a small table in the library when Stewart entered and placed an envelope in front of her. It was sealed, with her name written on the front.
“I don’t expect you to recognize Momma’s penmanship, but this was sent in my letter,” Stewart informed her.
Natasha opened the paper. It was an invitation to join the Donovans for the Christmas holidays. Mixed emotions overwhelmed her. Stewart sat in the chair beside her and reached for her hand.
“Stewart,” she warned.
“I observed the room as I entered. We do not have an audience.” He kissed her fingers. “Natasha, I beg of you. Join my family for the holiday.”
“Would you allow me a few days to consider the request?” she asked, hoping to think of a reasonable excuse.
“Send your mother a letter informing her you have been invited to share the holidays with the family of an acquaintance. I shall walk to your home and carry your suitcase back.”
“No, you cannot,” her voice a little louder than intended. She calmed herself. “I shall tell them I have an important assignment, return to the campus, and ride the train to the station.”
“Natasha, that’s foolish. There is no need to take the train when our homes are within walking distance. I know you cherish fresh air. Allow Poppa and me to come to your home, make an acquaintance with your family. You have my word, neither Poppa nor I will speak with wit, but put forth our best behaviour. I’m certain once your father meets mine he will approve and allow us to court.”
Natasha looked down at the paper in front of her, and then glanced around the room, thankful no one had entered. She turned her attention back to Stewart.
“Please, I beg of you,” she pleaded, keeping her voice lowered. “You must listen. My parents are unlike yours. Father is an arrogant man who is difficult to please or speak with at the best of times. If he does not approve of an acquaintance, I will not be allowed to see that person again. If he did not approve of you, a chum from school, it’s possible I’d be prohibited from finishing my education because we would encounter one another. My academics mean nothing to him. It would break my heart to leave this institution without my degree. As you recall, Nanny had to plead with Father before I was able to apply for admittance to the university.”
“What of your momma?” he asked.
“Mother would never question Father’s decision. To my knowledge, she has never voiced an opinion once Father speaks. Do not ask to make their acquaintance again. I will approach my family after graduation.”
“As you wish. But I shall meet you at the university and escort you back on the train. I will not allow you the opportunity to change your mind. My family is expecting to see you.”
Lacking the energy to argue further, Natasha turned her attention back to her books.
Dear Diary,
I made a foolish error, agreeing to go to his home over Christmas. It is a holiday for family. I am not family, nor will I ever be a part of his family….
* * *
It was wonderful seeing her brothers, but the time spent at the castle felt like an eternity. Grateful to be leaving the confines of the building she called home, she was deep in thought during the carriage ride to the university. Natasha was still beset with mixed emotions over her decision to visit Stewart’s family. Although she enjoyed her time with his parents previously, it seemed inappropriate to visit during a family-oriented holiday.
The carriage stopped at the school gate, and she was assisted down. The carriage disappeared from view as the train whistled, announcing its arrival. Chugging along, it came to a rolling stop at the platform. Stewart was the first to step off. He walked toward her, smiled, and picked up her luggage. She followed him onto the train, took her seat, and prepared herself for the journey.
Walking into his family home, Natasha’s eyes darted about in delight. Excitement bubbled in her chest. The decorations were simple but elegant. A decorated tree stood in the sitting room. The delicious scent of homemade baking filled the air. A few minutes after she settled in Vicki’s chamber, a gentle tap took her attention to the door. Looking up, she discovered Stewart leaning against the doorframe.
“Would you care to join us as we take the dog on a short stroll around the property?”
“Indeed I would,” she responded, closing her suitcase. “I will be down in a moment.”
Outside, Natasha giggled when Stewart took her hand in his, copying his parents who walked ahead of them. When they returned to the house Stewart led Natasha to the sofa. His parents entered the kitchen. Stewart squatted in front of the family pet, rubbed her head, and looked into her eyes.
“Lie down and go to sleep, Goldie.”
He re-joined Natasha on the sofa, placed one arm around her shoulder, and leaned toward her. Soft kisses caressed her neck. Natasha moaned. He moved his hand to her cheek and continued stroking her skin.
“Stewart,” she groaned quietly, pulling away. “We’ll be seen.”
“My parents are aware I’ve kissed you,” he responded, keeping his voice lowered.
“Stewart! You shouldn’t….”
“Natasha. My parents do not hide their emotions within the walls of their own home.”
“They’re married.” As the words came out of her mouth, she regretted them. It was painfully obvious Stewart’s upbringing was very different. Still she found the transition difficult. “It’s pleasing to hear they’re able to show their affection.”
“I missed you,” he admitted.
His hand moved to the back of her head. He bestowed a gentle kiss on her lips. Stewart pulled her down onto the sofa, covered her body with his, opened his mouth and kissed her. She lost herself in the sensation of the embrace until soft humming intruded on Natasha’s bliss.
Natasha pushed herself upright and brushed the hair from her face. Mr. Donovan was standing by the tree with his wife. Natasha’s face burned.
“Eliza and I are planning to dance this evening. You may continue—”
“Don’t further embarrass her,” Eliza warned.
Resting on his side beside Natasha, Stewart chuckled.
“—conversing,” Mr. Donovan continued. “Or, you may join us.”
Mr. Donovan lifted his voice in song. He extended a hand to his wife, and they began to dance. Stewart stood, inviting Natasha to join him.
“Would you do me the honour?”
“I would be delighted,” she responded, placing her hand in his. “Your poppa has a wonderful voice.”
“Yes. He was raised with music. My papa played the fiddle. Poppa preferred building, but was blessed with a beautiful voice. When we were younger, Poppa would take Vicki in his arms as Momma took my hands and guided my feet. Once we were put to bed, I could hear his singing as I read.”
“It seems Stewart is in love.” Natasha overheard heard Mrs. Donovan whisper.
“As am I.” He gave his wife a gentle kiss.
Natasha was astonished. Stewart said that his parents were not afraid to show their emotions within their home, but a guest was present. Such behaviour would be regarded as horribly unacceptable at the castle. She had never seen any form of affection between her parents. She had yet to see them hold hands or look at each other with love.
“As I told you earlier this evening,” Stewart whispered, interrupting her thoughts, “my parents still love one another. I respect and admire them and their beliefs. I plan to raise my family in the same fashion. My children will know the true meaning of love and respect.”
The holidays were over all too soon. Before long they stood on the train platform preparing to leave. Stewart embraced his parents and kissed his momma’s cheek. Mrs. Donovan handed him a bag of goodies before he followed Natasha onto the train.
* * *
After finishing her last class, Natasha walked briskly across the courtyard. She entered the round library building. Scanning the interior, there was no sign of Stewart. A number of students were chatting by a shelf of books. One friend from her history class called her name. After a few minutes of casual conversation she left the building to search for Stewart. As expected, he was under the oak tree with a textbook on his lap. The slight breeze was welcome as she walked toward him and sat down by his side.
“I no longer question why you come here. The air is delightful.”
“I felt confined in the stuffy buildings.”
“This arrived this afternoon,” she informed him, showing the paper. “A letter from Mother. She and Father will be away during our school break.”
“Are they requesting you join them?” Stewart set his book on the grass.
Unable to help herself, Natasha chuckled. Stewart did not.
“My apologies if I offended you. Mother is attempting to keep me informed of their schedule, not telling me that they will miss me.”
“In all our years together you have never spoken of your parents with fondness. You have spoken fondly of your brothers and Nanny, but never of your parents. Do you not wish to travel with them?”
“Never,” she responded, finding the idea preposterous. She gripped the paper, twisting it in her fingers. “I don’t wish to spend any time with them. Father never wanted me.”
“Natasha, you’re mistaken. You’re their daughter.”
Looking at Stewart she attempted a smile. She set the crumpled paper on the grass, away from his reach. It was impossible to explain her upbringing without telling him the truth of her heritage, something she refused to do. At a young age she was made painfully aware that her father preferred his sons and grew to accept it. Natasha was grateful to have Nanny in her life, the only adult who truly cared about her well-being. Although her mother made feeble attempts at stilted affection, she remained distant from her only daughter. As if I were a great disappointment to her.
“Allow me to give you a fact.” She sat upright. “When I was but a young child, Father would call me Nathan in error. One day, I inquired why.” The memories flooded her mind and heart as if the conversation had just taken place. She refused to allow her father to cause more tears. Unable to mask her pain, she closed her eyes and struggled to retain her composure. To be strong. Her father could control her life but not her emotions. Nor her self-respect. He will not win. Natasha opened her eyes, staring ahead with a cold, glassy gaze. “I will never forget the day as long as I breathe,” she continued in an emotionless tone. “Father looked up from his newspaper and bluntly told me in a cold, flat tone, ‘You were to be our third son, Nathan.’ He put his head down and continued reading his paper. My heart broke. Father never looked my way, nor did Mother attempt to comfort me. There is no denying. I wasn’t wanted.”
“Oh, my,” he moaned.
“I said my prayers every night, begging God to change me into a little boy that could be loved. A younger brother who could play with the twins. Father wanted another son, not a useless daughter.” Her voice cracked. Embarrassed, she turned her head away. Be strong, she reminded herself. “From that day on I buried myself in my studies. Many nights I cried myself to sleep, but I don’t care anymore,” she lied.
“I cannot imagine the pain you experienced at such a young age. How is it possible for a poppa to be so cruel? That was inexcusable.”
“I hate him.”
Her voice was ice cold. Colder than she intended. Over the years she blocked the memory from her mind. Enough tears had been shed. She had become stronger, no longer that impressionable child. Now, finally speaking openly about it, it still hurt. Not wishing to appear weak in Stewart’s company, she shifted her body to hide her watering eyes. The sound of Stewart’s voice brought her back to reality.
“Where were your brothers? Where was Nanny? Did they not speak up?” he asked, keeping his voice soft and sympathetic.
“The twins were within sight, but playing, and Nanny was inside. I’ve never spoken of that day.”
“Your momma was present. Did she not condemn your poppa?” Stewart asked. “My momma would have been livid to hear a stranger speak to a child in such a fashion, let alone her husband.”
Natasha wiped the tears from her face and turned to Stewart.
“Mother would not speak. She would never question his authority. You have a momma, Stewart. I have a mother. The dutiful wife. She gave birth to two sons to carry on—” Natasha closed her mouth, furious at her own stupidity. She had almost spoken of her family and their position in society. “And then she made a grave error giving birth to a daughter,” she continued. “In my heart, I believe Mother tries, but she is just not capable of showing emotion. It would have meant the world to me, just once, to hear her say, ‘I love you,’ or ‘I am proud of you.’ I no longer attempt to please either Mother or Father. I detest the idea of spending time in their company.”
It hurt to think of them, to speak of them. There was nothing pleasant in her memory that concerned them. Why did the topic evoke emotions? Unable to stop the tears, she turned her head and wiped her cheeks for the second time.
“Please, I beg of you. Stop saying you wish to make their acquaintance,” she sobbed. “I have two brothers and was raised by a governess. In my heart, I do not have parents.”
Feeling the warmth of Stewart’s arms come around her, she broke down and sobbed.
“You are loved,” he whispered.
Thankfully, they were alone. She rested her head against his chest and cried.
“I will never speak of them again,” he promised.
Natasha woke early after a restless night, took out her diary, and began writing.
Dear Diary,
I cried in his arms….