Chapter Twenty-Eight

“What do you say I skip on across the Channel in the dashing uniform and you stay here and deal with Fallowgill?” Philip slapped a stack of papers onto the desk in front of him and leaned back in his chair with a puff of irritated breath.

“Trouble in Yorkshire?” Stanley appreciated the diversion. He would report in only two hours and was doing his utmost not to think on it too closely.

“Actually, in London. One would think that finding an estate manager who was both competent and honest would be a simple undertaking. Either all the desirable candidates have gone into hiding out of fear of being stunned speechless by my sartorial splendor, or London’s hiring houses are capable of presenting to me only men who lack both credentials and common sense.”

“I hate to tell you this, Philip, but you would encounter a great many incompetent buffoons in the army as well.” Stanley thought of Major Horace-Fulton and smiled despite the encroaching despondency he’d fought all day.

He was dressed as a major, having been officially awarded that rank the day before. Never had he felt less himself in his uniform. It was as much a mask as the bright, flamboyant clothes Philip wore. He was playing a part and would continue to do so for the rest of his life.

“So I am doomed to deal with idiots all my life.” Philip’s amused expression took Stanley back to their childhood. Philip had worn a perpetual grin, by far the happiest of all the brothers. Stanley had often depended on that exact look on his oldest brother’s face when he felt worried or unhappy.

“You could always abandon your estates and your responsibilities and go live a life of ease and indulgence in the Former Colonies,” he suggested. “I hear that is the order of the day across the water.”

“And yet, Holy Harry is smitten with an American. That is very nearly blasphemous. I wonder if the archbishop knows.”

Stanley laughed, and after a moment, Philip’s dry expression broke into a grin.

“A life of indulgence, you say?” Philip made quite a show of contemplating the suggestion. “I thumb my nose at all my convictions, my responsibilities, and turn my back on everything to which I ought to have been loyal. The idea has merit.”

They both laughed again, knowing Philip would never choose such an absurd path.

“Father would have had your hide if you’d even contemplated such a thing.”

“He walked out on Parliament once,” Philip said. “I’d wager you didn’t know that.”

Stanley had never heard anything so preposterous.

“It must have been twenty years ago. The Reign of Terror had ended, but France was far from stable. War was raging on the Continent. There were riots throughout Britain. An air of panic and unease permeated the nation, as well as Parliament.”

“Father would not have walked out if circumstances were so unsettled.” Stanley knew that with perfect clarity.

“You wouldn’t think so,” Philip said. “I was young, but I remember everyone seemed a little on edge at that time. Mater was increasing. I was old enough to realize that, but I don’t think any of the rest of you understood.”

“Increasing?” That was too long ago for Charlie but would have been after Harold was born.

Philip nodded. “The child was stillborn. A girl. That, I think, made the loss even harder for Mater. She wrote to Father, but I don’t think she expected him to come, he having committed himself to saving the country.”

No. Father would not have turned his back on that responsibility.

“He arrived at the Park a couple of days later. Mater was shocked. I remember Father’s exact words after she said she hadn’t expected him to return. ‘By the stars, Julia. I am the only husband you have! Where else would I be?’

“I had been with Mater. She had been sitting in the nursery, silently holding Harold. I had no idea what to do. He handed Harold to Nurse and led Mater away. I didn’t see much of either of them for days. Father didn’t return to London for months.”

But Father had made a commitment to Parliament. He’d abandoned his responsibilities. Stanley stopped the thought the moment it formed. Father had had a responsibility to his family as well.

“I wish I knew what he said to her during those long weeks.” Philip leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. “How does a husband comfort his wife after the loss a child, especially when enduring that loss himself?”

Stanley recognized the question beneath the one Philip had posed out loud. “You are thinking of Sorrel.”

Philip nodded, pain passing over his features. “I spoke with several physicians here in London—I wanted to come partially for that reason. Dr. Habbersham is growing older and told me he does not mean to continue his practice much longer. I need to find another man of medicine for the neighborhood. For Sorrel. I also wanted additional opinions on her current prognosis. I need to know if—” For a moment, Stanley thought Philip might actually cry. His expression held deep worry and barely held-back emotion. “They hold out very little hope. Each one believes she will lose the child.”

Why was hope in such short supply? Of all things, a person ought to have hope.

“What am I going to do, Stanley?” Philip’s words were choked to the point of near incomprehensibility. He rubbed his face with his palms, heavy breaths pushing through the cracks between his fingers. “This will tear her apart. I have no idea how to help her. If I could just take all the pain of this away, I would in a heartbeat. But I can’t. I can’t do a blasted thing.”

“You will be with her, Philip. That will help.”

“I’ve made arrangements so that I need not leave the Park for the next few months. My Parliamentary secretary will keep me informed on bills so I can communicate with my colleagues. If I can get my Yorkshire problem sorted out, all the estates should run smoothly without my interference. I hope nothing unforeseen arises. I do not want to have to leave her.”

“Then don’t.”

Philip looked up at him.

“Suppose Fallowgill falls into complete disrepair or Parliament loses its collective mind,” Stanley said. “Even if you could help, you’re needed at home. Father would remind you that you are the only husband she has. That’s where your loyalties lie, Philip. That will give you the strength you need.”

Philip sighed and nodded. “Strength through loyalty. Sometimes I’m not sure to which loyalty that refers.”

“Forgive me, my lord.” Jeffers stepped inside the book room. Philip didn’t bother with his dandy persona. “The Dowager Lady Lampton has just arrived.”

“Mater is here?” Philip sounded as surprised as Stanley felt.

Before Stanley could summon a single thought to ponder why their mother had traveled all the way to London in the harshness of winter, Mater rushed into the room. His first reaction was panic—Mater looked frantic. He stood as she entered, his heart hammering out a concerned rhythm.

“Mater, what in heaven’s name—?”

Mater had her arms around Stanley before Philip even finished the question. “Oh, my sweet Stanley,” she said. “You haven’t left yet.”

“I have a few minutes remaining.” He had planned to retrieve his belongings and leave within the hour.

“Philip.” Mater skewered Philip with a look of warning that echoed a thousand different moments from their childhood. “I am about to be a gushing, weeping mother, and you had best not have anything to say about it.”

Philip stood in stunned silence.

“As a matter of fact,” Mater said, “I would very much appreciate your leaving us in privacy for a moment.”

“Of course.” Philip crossed to her. He kissed their mother on her cheek and left as she had requested.

Mater watched her eldest son, then turned to face Stanley once more. She looked concerned, perhaps even a little confused. “Has he been crying?”

Stanley nodded. “A little. He is worried about Sorrel.”

“Yes. Hers is a situation not likely to end happily.” Mater’s voice filled with empathy, something Stanley would not have fully appreciated before Philip’s revealing conversation. “She has a good husband though, and that will help. Our Philip has grown into a very fine gentleman. All of you boys have.”

Stanley didn’t know about that. Very fine gentlemen did not, he imagined, kill people nor send men to their deaths. He had not done so in cold blood nor with any degree of murderous intent. That was some consolation.

“Are you well, Mater?” He did not like the signs of fatigue and worry in her face.

“I had to tell you because I did not when you left.” She touched his face with her hand. “I love you, my boy. You have ever been a comfort to me, and my heart aches to know you will be so very far away. I worry over you, over your well-being and your safety, and, most importantly, your happiness.” Tears flowed freely down her face.

Stanley watched her, astonished. Mater did not cry often and not ever copiously.

“I am proud to have a son who is honorable, and I would never, ever ask you to compromise your integrity. Still, I wish with all my heart you did not have to go. Returning to that life will be so hard on you. It will be horrible for me as well. You bring me such joy and comfort, and without you here, I know I will struggle to feel that happiness. I did when you left the first time, and I did when you returned to the Continent in March.”

Pain stabbed at Stanley’s heart. He was hurting his mother, of whom he’d designated himself protector from the time he was a young child. He had to return to the army. He was needed and expected and committed. Yet doing so would hurt her.

“I did not say anything when you left the Park because I feared burdening you, but you need to know. Above all else, you must know I love you.”

Stanley kissed her tenderly on the forehead. He’d done so ever since he was tall enough to reach. They stood, her weeping into his handkerchief, hers having already become too soggy to be useful, and he holding her in a tight embrace.

“I have to go back, Mater.” How often had he said that over the last week, both to himself and to others? Father had often said that doing the right thing was not always easy. Stanley had not been prepared for just how difficult it was proving. “I pledged my loyalty to the kingdom in this way. I cannot break that pledge.”

“I know.” Mater spoke steadier than before. “Fortitudo per Fidem.”

“It is a powerful creed.”

She stepped back and met his eye. “Harold told me once that he thinks the family might be mistranslating those words. He takes great pride in his grasp of Latin, you know.”

“He takes great pride in a lot of things,” Stanley said rather out of the side of his mouth.

Mater bit her lips, clearly holding back a laugh. “Watching him grow into his role will be . . . interesting.”

Yet another thing Stanley would be missing. “What objection does Harold have to our interpretation?”

“Fidem, he insists, can and should be interpreted as ‘loyalty,’ but there is another translation he feels is just as important, just as crucial.”

Stanley set his mind back to his long-ago instruction in Latin but could not remember another meaning.

“Faith,” Mater said. “Strength through faith.”

Stanley had not once thought of the family creed in those terms, and his mind would not, for a moment, wrap itself around this new version.

“‘Strength through loyalty,’ loyalty to one another, to causes we believe in, to those things and people and ideals to which we pledge our devotion. It is and always will be an important and necessary character trait of any good and upright person,” Mater said. “But ‘strength through faith,’ faith in the promise of a brighter tomorrow, faith in the impact of a life well lived, and, my dear, sweet Stanley, faith in yourself, in your goodness, dear heavens, your deep and abiding goodness . . . That is just as important, just as crucial. Live your life with integrity, my boy, but do not live it without hope.”

He breathed back the emotion that emerged, keeping himself steady for her sake. “You are asking me to be optimistic.”

“I am asking you to believe.”

“Each of us boys learned long ago that when our Mater tells us to do something, we do not argue.”

“See that you don’t.” She smiled tremulously. “I love you, Stanley. I love you so very much. I did not want to make your farewell any harder than it had to be, but I needed to tell you that. I could not let you leave without doing so.”

He could not even find the words to respond. No matter where life took him, no matter his struggles to believe in himself and the path life had put him on, a man needed to know his mother loved him.

“I will require another hug and a kiss before you leave,” she said as if warning him, “but there is one more farewell that needs to be remade.” She turned back to face the door. “Come in, child. I have never seen Stanley stunned into such complete silence. You’ll have no difficulty saying whatever it is you wish to say.”

Stanley followed his mother’s gaze directly to Marjie. Neither of them moved as Mater left, but they watched each other silently. By far, the most difficult and uncomfortable leave-taking had been with his angel. He’d wanted to say so many things but couldn’t find the words to do so. He’d desperately longed to hold and kiss her, but he’d been afraid he would fall to pieces if he so much as touched her.

Marjie stepped inside. She turned back long enough to close the door.

What would she say? Stanley didn’t think he could endure another heart-wrenching farewell. Not with Marjie.

She stepped up to him, the scent of roses filling the air around him. He would never smell roses again without thinking of her. She didn’t touch him, did not reach her arms out to embrace him. Marjie lifted up on her toes and leaned toward him. Only their lips met in a kiss of tender farewell.

Stanley couldn’t breathe. He had resigned himself to never feeling such fulfillment again. His arms encircled her, pulling her flush with him. He should not have allowed himself the moment’s weakness, but he needed her comfort and the strength she gave him.

The world disappeared. Nothing existed beyond that stolen moment. The years that stretched out ahead of him faded into the furthermost regions of his mind. The hour of his departure disappeared, forgotten and unheeded. His Marjie was in his arms.

“Marjie,” he whispered, attempting to make himself break away. He could not. A moment more passed before his soldier’s instinct forced him to regain control of the situation. Prolonging yet another farewell would only be harder on them both.

He took a step back. He closed his eyes, forcing several breaths and lowering his arms determinedly to his sides. He had mere moments before he needed to leave. His thoughts must be brought down out of the clouds and back to his duties.

Marjie stepped forward, closing the distance between them once more. She reached up and took his face in her hands. “Please don’t leave me, Stanley.”

“Marjie—”

“I need you at least as much as they do. Please don’t abandon me. Please.”

Her words cut so deep Stanley felt as though his heart was bleeding. “I gave my—”

“I know. I am not asking you to abandon your duties. I am asking, begging, you to take me with you. Please.”

Stanley held his hands firmly at his side, forcing himself to not reach for her again. Marrying her and taking her to France with him would be so much easier than leaving her behind. He could hold her when he needed comfort. She would fill the broken bits of his soul, the places that had cracked and shattered again and again since the day he’d witnessed his first battle. He would be able to turn to her when he struggled to endure the life he’d come to despise in so many ways.

“No, Marjie.” Those were the two hardest words he’d spoken all day. “I will not force that life on you. I will not sacrifice your own happiness for mine.”

“Do I look happy, Stanley? Does being left here appear to have secured my happiness?”

Stanley held his hands behind his back so he would not reach out and wipe the tears from her cheeks. He did not know if his self-control could endure touching her again. He feared he would give in and consign her to the misery that awaited across the Channel. “I know the life to which I would be taking you.” He stepped back once more, and Marjie’s hands fell to her sides. “Whether you believe me or not, you would be more unhappy there than you could ever be here, and I would hate myself for doing that to you. I cannot. Please do not ask it of me.”

She stood silently for a moment. He saw her shoulders droop and her gaze drop away from his face. “I know,” she said. “I know. I had not intended to beg you to keep me, Stanley. I had meant only to tell you I love you and I will miss you. I wanted to be supportive and comforting and—” She shook her head almost dismissively and shrugged.

“No, Marjie.” He knew what emotion that shrug covered. He would not allow her to feel rejected. “You have been all of those things. Knowing that you love me will sustain me in ways you cannot possibly imagine.” He did not deserve her love, but having it, he was determined to live worthy of it.

“I also wanted you to hold me just one more time.”

With that simple sentence, he was back in Belgium, lost in the white fog of fever and approaching death. He’d heard her words fluctuating between the hoarse voice of Lieutenant Greenberry and her angelic one in his thoughts. Those words had taken firm grasp of him. To hold her just one more time. That had been worth living for, even if it had meant living a life haunted by memories and regrets.

“Oh, my Marjie.” He sighed but stepped farther away. “Do you have any idea how you are torturing me?”

She took a shaky breath, tears still falling from her eyes.

“I cannot hold you again.” Stanley forced back a groan of frustration. He needed her. “I am not strong enough to let you go if I do. But I have to do the right thing now. I have to.”

“I know.” Her voice broke.

“You do know I love you, don’t you?”

She nodded but seemed unable to speak.

Stanley closed his eyes and pushed out a tense breath. Her words of a few moments earlier haunted him. “I need you at least as much as they do,” she had said.

In a moment, he would leave to fulfill a commitment he’d made years earlier. In doing so, though, he would be hurting his angel. It was, in a word, impossible. How did a man find any degree of faith in such a hopeless situation?