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Within two weeks’ time, Benedict had returned from the front, sending us a telegram as to the time of his arrival at the train station. My relations with Florence remained strained, to say the least. Stefan and I had barely spoken except for polite conversation when he intermittently joined the household for dinner. He knew of Benedict’s impending visit but said little regarding his return. As a result, our interaction lessened, which had been my fault and a cautionary measure taken on Stefan’s behalf.
As I stood on the platform, waiting for Benedict’s return, I shivered even though it had been a reasonably warm, early-autumn day. My nerves pricked like needles while waiting to see my husband, knowing inwardly my heart had committed adultery a thousand times over in my mind. Even now as I saw the train slowly approach from the north, my thoughts lingered on another man.
The hissing of the engine passed before me, leaving behind the disgusting odor of oil and steel. Everything in the country had deteriorated since the war began because funds were diverted from the infrastructure to the making of weapons and ammunition. The screeching of the metal wheels upon the track grated on my nerves, and I glanced to the right and left of the car doors flying open, releasing its passengers.
Straining to see Benedict above the crowd, I stood up on my tiptoes nervously glancing around. Suddenly a familiar voice from behind me called my name.
“Grace!”
My stomach knotted, and I froze. Unable to swing around in gleeful joy upon hearing Benedict’s voice, I slowly turned my head and glanced over my shoulder. He was nearly upon me, causing me to spin around and face him. His haggard appearance shocked me as if he had aged ten years within one.
“Darling,” he drawled. He put his arms around me and drew me toward his chest.
“Benedict.” Instead of ardently embracing him in return, I felt helplessly void of affection and stood rigid with his arms around my body. My actions were despicable as if I had become a statue incapable of movement.
“I’ve missed you,” he uttered.
He released me, and I forced a feigned smile. “You look so tired. We should get you home immediately so that you can rest.”
“I am,” he admitted with a moan.
“The driver is waiting,” I announced, putting my arm around his as he offered it. His other hand carried a large leather suitcase, and he had slung a duffle bag over his shoulder.
“It feels good to be home,” he admitted. “The air is so fresh. It’s the first deep breath I’ve taken in months.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, having just complained about the smell of a dirty train on the platform.
“I’ve done nothing but breathe the stench of gunpowder, filthy conditions, and rotting corpses longer than I care to admit.”
His dreadful admission saddened me, bringing to the forefront the realism of war. I, on the other hand, had suffered nothing.
Benedict clung to me tightly, pulling me toward his side. When we arrived at the car and climbed inside, our driver enthusiastically welcomed him home.
“It is good to see you, sir,” he greeted.
“Thank you. I’m glad to be home,” Benedict replied with a faint smile.
As we settled into the back seat, my focus remained upon him and his apparent physical and emotional detriment. Without thinking otherwise, I felt compelled to tell him of Olivia’s loss.
“You remember my friend Olivia?”
“Yes.” He turned his head and gave me his full attention.
“She recently lost her husband in Turkey, of all places.” Benedict took my hand and held it tenderly.
“I’m sorry to hear of it.” He scowled. “We had news of the massive losses. It has been quite disheartening.”
“We are not going to lose the war, are we?” The idea of Germans invading our land pulled the breath from my lungs.
“If I have anything to say about it, no.” He confidently boasted. “Yes, we’ve lost battles, but the war to victory continues. We will fight as long as it takes. I can tell you the morale of the men in my company is of the same mindset. The bloody Germans will not set foot on English soil.”
After gulping in a shaky breath, I responded, “That is good to know.”
“How is Olivia doing?”
My surprise that he continued to show empathy for her plight sent a warmth of affection returning to my heart.
“As good as can be expected. The last we spoke, she had talked of going back to live with her parents. Her current boarder, however, will need to find housing.”
“Boarder?”
“A Belgian refugee.”
“Oh, I see.” His smile quickly faded.
Afraid to speak on the contentious topic, I swiftly returned his attention elsewhere. “I’m sure Percy will be delighted to be in your arms, darling.”
“How is the lad?”
“Growing. You’ll barely recognize him. He started to walk, albeit he’s a bit unsure of himself.”
“Walk you say?” He brought his hand to his forehead. “My goodness, I’m sure he has. I’ve lost track of time.”
The car pulled up to the estate, and I heard Benedict heave a deep sigh of relief. His eyes scanned the property as if he were looking at it for the first time. In his honor, the staff stood in a long line to welcome him home. Florence exited and grinned as the car rolled to a stop. The Smits stood in the doorway watching, but Stefan was nowhere in sight.
“Mother looks well,” he remarked.
The driver opened the car door, and I exited with Benedict to follow. Carter quickly stepped forward.
“Welcome home, Major,” he replied. “It is good to have you back.” Benedict stood proudly in his uniform and gave Carter a hearty handshake.
“Thank you, Carter.” He glanced over at the staff. The men nodded and smiled a warm welcome while the female staff gave him a curtsy and grin. “Thank you for greeting me. So kind of you,” he remarked. After taking a few steps forward, Florence approached him.
“My darling boy,” she remarked. “Home at last.”
“Yes, mother, home but not for long.” He gave her a quick embrace and kissed her right cheek. I saw he noticed the Smits standing in the doorway.
“These are two of our Belgian guests,” I announced. “Hugo and Gretta Smit.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” Benedict replied. “Mrs. Smit, my mother has written to me about your prime pastries to such an extent my mouth watered while standing in the trenches.”
Gretta flashed a proud smile. “Whatever you would like me to bake for you, just let me know, Major.”
“I can’t remember the last time I had a sweet pastry melt on my tongue. It’s been far too long.”
Benedict walked indoors, lumbering in exhaustion. As we entered the foyer, he stopped, removed his hat, and glanced at mother and me.
“The others?”
“The lieutenant is residing in the cottage, and Doctor Reyer is at the hospital. They both should be here for dinner this evening,” Florence announced in my stead.
“All right then,” he replied, shooting me an uncomfortable glance.
“If you don’t mind, I’m exhausted. I haven’t slept in a decent bed in months, and all I care to do now is sleep for a few hours. Shall you two forgive me?”
“Absolutely, nothing to forgive,” I responded. “Come, I’ll help you get settled in.” Tenderly I held Benedict’s hand, but it felt cold to the touch. As we walked up the stairs, he pulled his hand from mine. Once inside our bedchamber, he closed the door behind him and shot an angry glare in my direction that took me by surprise.
“Now that we are alone, I want to know why your behavior has required my return home.”
His change in physical demeanor frightened me. The affectionate moments of his return had suddenly turned cold and challenging.
“You are here because your mother has blown the situation out of proportion,” I quipped. “There was no need to call you home to take care of matters.” Defensively I stood my ground before him in hopes he would believe my explanation. Benedict beheld me warily, scanning my eyes.
“Who is this lieutenant?” The angry tone of his voice demanded an answer. “Has his conduct toward you been inappropriate, or have you merely thrown yourself into his presence as mother suggested?”
“Thrown myself?” I screeched. “What do you take me for, Benedict, some floozy? You know I’ve been nothing but faithful to you since the day we married. I have no intention of being unfaithful to you either.”
“Then why spend so much time with the man? Mother tells me you have often been alone with him at the cottage. Such lack of propriety on your behalf is eliciting gossip and speculation that the two of you are having an affair.”
“Affair?” A nervous giggle escaped my throat. “How preposterous.” My stomach knotted as Benedict eyed me suspiciously. After a few seconds, his countenance softened. Suddenly I felt drenched in alarm as he took a step in my direction and lifted my chin.
“Look at me.” He spoke kindly.
I reluctantly obeyed his command, and when our eyes met, instinctively I knew what would come next.
“Your husband needs his wife.” Benedict lowered his mouth upon mine and kissed me fervently. The months of war that had denied him the body of a woman suddenly unleashed into a consuming fire of need. His lips remained on mine while his free hand clawed at my skirt, lifting it upward to search for my flesh underneath. In frustration, he crudely picked me up, placed me on the bed upon my back, and unzipped his pants releasing his bulging need before my eyesight. Overwhelmed, I shut my eyelids and cringed.
“Honestly, Benedict,” I balked. “Can you not wait until we at least undress?”
“No,” he said. “The wait has been far too long.”
After awkward attempts to pull down my undergarments, Benedict entered me swiftly and let out a moaning cry I hoped none of the staff, or his mother, had heard. It had been so long between our last joining that his penetration hurt with each thrust. Knowing it would be wrong to halt his need after such a long time, I allowed him to have his way with me until he released himself with a groan of pleasure. It didn’t take long to do so, and at that second, I felt sorry for him. I wasn’t sure why, as he rolled off my body, heaving in gratification.
Embarrassed over my position, I swung my legs over the bed and sat on the edge, pulling up my undergarments and dealing with the raw pain of his return. Naturally, in the act, I again had received nothing in return. I wondered if Benedict even knew women had needs or if our duty in life had only been to spread our legs and receive a man for his inclinations alone. Frustration engulfed me as I rose to my feet and glanced down at his limp body lying on top of the bed.
“You should get undressed and sleep. I’m sure it will feel much better between clean sheets,” I remarked, glancing at his dissipating arousal.
“You’re right,” he replied. “Wake me an hour before dinner.”
“As you wish.” I straightened my skirt, roaming the palm of my hands down the wrinkled front to make myself semipresentable. After glancing in the mirror and tucking in a few stray curls that had fallen out during the onslaught, I turned and watched him before departing. He stood on the other side of the bed with his back toward me, taking off his uniform. Not wishing to glance upon his naked body, I opened the door and left my returning soldier alone.
