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When armistice arrived, everything changed again. Before the war, my life had been like a picture puzzle. All the pieces fit together in one idyllic scene. In a cruel twist of fate, war arrived and twisted everything upside down. As it raged worldwide and years passed, the pieces found their way back together. By the end, it had created an entirely different image with a lost piece in the middle—my husband.
We buried Benedict in the family plot at Stratton Park next to his father. Laden with guilt and depression, the tables had spun on me. Olivia became my confidante and comfort through sorrow as I had once been to her. Florence grieved with the support of Doctor Reyer, and over the past year, their relationship had grown closer. I had been of little help in that regard, struggling with my newfound life of being a single mother.
Percy, now four years old and robbed of a father, remained healthy. It saddened me he would never know his father who loved him dearly. Nevertheless, as his only son, he would inherit Benedict’s title and estate, and I would be responsible for helping him receive that inheritance with education and wisdom. Amelia turned one year of age as a beautiful blond little girl, and to my surprise took on Benedict’s characteristics as well as her grandmother’s every day. Though a year ago I had concerns the child would be Stefan’s, I now felt relieved to have given Benedict another baby as he desired.
My affair with Stefan faded into obscurity in my thoughts. It seemed like another lifetime that I had fallen in love with a young Belgian soldier. Perhaps I should have regretted my actions, but I absolved myself of my sin because Benedict had failed to fill that one void in my life, leaving me vulnerable. I forgave my husband and myself. Now the war had ended, it didn’t matter any longer. Providence had taken my life in a different direction.
Almost immediately after armistice, the Smits returned home. As quickly as the refugees had arrived in England, a mass exodus to their homeland ensued with the same eagerness. Florence and I agreed their presence had been a wonderful gift in our household. Gretta was kind enough to leave some of her recipes with the cook after spoiling us for years.
Saying goodbye to Doctor Reyer and especially Celia had been the most difficult. Celia, now almost fourteen years of age, had blossomed into an incredible young lady. She had kept with her studies, and to her father’s delight, showed herself to be a bright and astute student. If anyone had been anxious to return home, it had been her for the sheer joy of seeing her brother.
Stefan had survived by the grace of God and our many prayers. As I reflected on the past, I chided myself for not praying enough for Benedict. The guilt over his suicide hung heavily upon me as I blamed myself for sending him to the cottage and isolating him from those who loved and cared for his welfare. Nonetheless, I surmised Benedict’s ancestral pride had played a factor in his inability to humble himself to get the aid he needed at Martin’s suggestion.
Doctor Reyer reported Stefan had recently arrived at their home and happily found it still standing although it had been ransacked and damaged to some extent. He began the process of restoration as he waited for his family’s return. Doctor Reyer planned to start another private practice and restore their lives to a semblance of normalcy.
As we stood in the foyer, stating our goodbyes, I could see Florence struggle with her emotions. She bit her lower lip when Martin took both her hands into his.
“Lady Russell, what words can I express for your hospitality during these past years? Celia and I are most grateful.”
“It is I who am grateful, Martin. You have brought me much joy and companionship, and I shall miss you.”
“Then you must visit us in Luxembourg when we are resettled and give me the opportunity to be your host.”
“Do come,” Celia added, clasping my hand. “And you too, Lady Grace.”
The thought of seeing Stefan again had not crossed my mind, and I felt uncomfortable with the idea. “Perhaps.” My single word response appeared to sadden Celia, but I could not commit myself. As far as Florence, I held no doubt she would accept Doctor Reyer’s invitation.
“Now give me a good tight hug,” I said to Celia, holding out my arms. We embraced for a long time. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Martin give Florence a tender kiss on her cheek. Her eyes watered as she struggled with her farewells. After the emotional farewell, they climbed into the car, and our driver took them to the station. By tomorrow evening they would be home.
As I closed the door, Florence wiped her tears with her handkerchief. My heart swelled with affection. For the first time, I saw her as a woman who I understood rather than Benedict’s domineering mother. No doubt we would rely upon one another in the years ahead and become increasingly close.
“You should visit them as soon as they are settled,” I encouraged her, putting my arm around her shoulder. “It would be good for you.”
“I don’t know if that is wise,” she responded, shaking her head. “Then I will only have to say goodbye again.”
Curious as to the depth of her fondness toward Martin, I overstepped the boundaries between us out of sheer curiosity.
“Do you love him?”
“What?” She took a step back and scoffed at my question.
“Do you love Martin? It’s a simple question, Florence, and I shall not feel any less of you if you possess such affection.”
Florence’s annoyance faded as she brought her hands together and held them. A slight blush filled her cheeks. “He asked me to marry him, but I turned down the proposal.”
Her unexpected announcement made my mouth gape open in surprise. “Why?”
“Why?” She balked as if I should know the answer.
“Is it because of his class?”
“No, of course not.” She dismissed me, waving her hand as if I should go away. “How can I leave? My grandchildren need me. You need me.”
“I would never, Florence, suggest you should sacrifice your happiness for my welfare. Benedict, as you know, has left me and you well provided for under the trust. My only responsibility here is to raise a son he would be proud to carry on and a beautiful daughter.”
“Those responsibilities can be overwhelming for a mother on her own, and I shall not abandon you for my selfish pursuits.” She walked toward the parlor. “The discussion has ended. I’m going for a strong cup of tea.”
Florence dismissed me as she often did when the discussion had ended as far as she was concerned, and I did not pursue it. As kind as it had been for her to agree to help me in my new situation, her choice saddened me. Would I have done the same had Stefan asked me to marry him? The thought was ludicrous since my duties were to Stratton Park and Benedict’s legacy.
As the months passed, nevertheless, letters arrived from Doctor Reyer to Florence on a weekly basis. Their goodbyes had not been permanent as Florence eagerly answered his correspondence as soon as it came. Martin had established his practice again, but he mentioned nothing about Stefan and his pursuits. If Martin had written anything, Florence would not share it with me. Naturally, my curious nature wished to know. When I thought of him meeting and loving another woman, my heart could not bear it.
