Summer I

. Ӝ .

My father's funeral was held under a dreary, crowded sky. It seemed that every guest that had visited our home to celebrate my and Élisabeth’s marriage was now standing around a fresh mound of soil. My new wife stayed by my side, a wet handkerchief clutched to her mouth to quiet her sobs. A light rain had greeted that terrible morning, staining the ground beneath our feet with tiny darken circles that reminded me of more unwelcomed tears.
         My eyes were the only ones that were dry. After my weak moment at the hotel, I could not bring myself to shed another tear. Whether it was the guilt I felt or the shock of the death, I did not know, but as much as I tried to show my sorrow, I could not.
         The ache in my chest was real though and came with no mercy. He was my father. As much as I had tried to ignore it, I could not escape the fact. To think that I hated him so much in the past made my stomach tighten. To think I wanted nothing more than for him to leave my life. And now that I got my wish, I would have given my soul to change it. We were just starting to learn of each other. I was just beginning to gain the father I had always longed for, and he was taken from me.
         Maybe if I had seen his illness sooner… If I had listened to Élisabeth and had called for a doctor… If I had cared, he may be alive now.
         I stood silently as the crowd dwindled. Angeline tried to prop the black umbrella so that it would cover both our heads, but I allowed Élisabeth to have all the shelter. I deserved to be the one who was wet and sick for what I had done. Wrapping my arm around Élisabeth’s shoulders, we went back to the carriage.
         Walking into the manor was like walking into a stranger’s home. There was an eerie silence that congested the space and a thick layer of sadness that made it difficult to breathe. I took one long look around at all the closed windows and dark rooms and then retreated to my bedroom to think.
         I fell into my chair at my desk, thoroughly exhausted and feeling weak. It was going to be so strange not seeing his face in these halls, whether it was with his stern expression or his newly softened one. I would miss both. Even though I had just begun to know him, I was sure I would miss both. Was I cursed to never be happy? The day of the wedding was everything I could have ever wanted and more. I had my love, my father, and my best friend. And now, my father was gone, my best friend was departing soon for England, and my Élisabeth was just as shaken by this as I was.
         My hand reached for the jewelry box and my finger stroked the glass as my thoughts ran away from me. I wondered if my mother had heard about my father’s death. If so, it would give her a reason to write to me again. Maybe then I could find her address and reunite with her. We could talk about my father, and I could tell her all about the man my father truly was—how much he had loved her. I missed her terribly and now that I felt more alone than ever, I would welcome her loving embrace over a king’s fortune.
         Life was a fickle thing. I felt like it was changing so fast that I was stumbling trying to keep up. I had gained my family’s fortune, the name, the reputation, but I had lost too much to really find the rewards of any value. I would have given up every material thing I possessed to have my family back again and my love at my side. To truly be happy, even if I was poorly off, like the painter Élisabeth and I had met in the park that afternoon.
         I continued to trace the edges of the box. The candle’s flame glowed with a blue tint this evening, reminding me of my father’s pale colored eyes.
         There was a tap on the door. It opened without my permission, and Élisabeth pushed through with her shoulder, balancing a tray in her hands. Her light eyes were sad as she looked upon me. I must have looked as terrible as I felt, but did not care enough to fix it. Not sleeping since the night of the wedding made my eyes dry and heavy and my hair was loose around my shoulders. I hadn’t even bothered to brush out the knots.
         “Andre…” Her voice drifted to me like the silver smoke of the candle. “Are you alright?”
         I did not answer. For now, I was as much parentless as Élisabeth was. I wondered how she had survived with so much sorrow layering the heart. To love and then lose was the worst feeling in the world. I just could not think how she could still allow so much kindness to flow through her when all I felt was coldness clinging to my skin.
         “Andre?”
         My head felt like it was being held down by stone as I lifted my gaze to her.
         “You have been up here for hours. You missed dinner…”
         I frowned. I hadn’t realized I had been up here that long.
         She closed the distance between us and placed the tray in front of me on the desk. I looked down at the bowl of steaming chowder, loaf of bread, and glass of red wine.
         “I made the chowder myself—my mother’s recipe. She used to make it for me whenever I was sick or upset.” Élisabeth offered me a tender smile and leaned forward. “She said it warmed the heart.” She picked up the spoon and held it out for me to take.
         “Thank you,” I whispered and took it. The strong, spicy aroma of the soup made my stomach clench. I was hungrier than I thought. She watched me as I dipped the spoon and then brought it to my lips. The warm liquid ran over my tongue and down my throat, seeming to linger in my chest and at the bottom of my stomach. I wondered if the warmth in my heart was from the soup or from the woman in front of me.
         “How is it?”
         “Delicious.” I reached for the bread. My eyes travelled from her face to her blouse that clung to her upper body and complimented her bosom. Memories of our first night together flashed through my mind, forcing me to look away. “Would you like some?” I said, practically choking at the end.
         She shook her head. “This is for you. Enjoy.” She stepped toward the door. “I will be in the library if you need anything.”
         I ripped out some of the soft insides of the bread and dipped it into the chowder. My mouth still full, I nodded. Élisabeth let out a short laugh and walked out of our bedroom.
         With the room quiet again, I looked down at the bowl in front of me. Another kind action from Élisabeth. I should have been use to it all by now. The small gestures still warmed my soul, but she continued to surprise me.
         My father had kept his promise to get better so that he could attend my wedding. Even if he could not stay well for long, he had kept his promise to me. I had every intention to keep my word. I would treat my new wife as a queen—as she should be treated—and love her with everything I was.
         I had a few more mouthfuls of the chowder, stood, and went to the door. I went down the stairs, my intention to find Élisabeth and thank her again. When I reached the foyer, I was stopped by a knock on the door. Instead of waiting for a servant to open it, I did it myself and was shocked to see Rupert standing before me.
         He did not greet me with a smile or a friendly embrace. His boyish face was grim, his green eyes dull as they found me. “Andre,” he said as he stepped into my house, “I got here as soon as I could.” He brushed off the rain droplets from his jacket and took off his hat to shake out his hair.
         I closed the door behind him. “Did you visit the cemetery?”
         He nodded with a frown. “Just came from there. I wish I could have been at the service, but I was about to board the next ship for England when I received your message. It took me some time to come back after the news settled in.”
         “I understand,” I replied and walked with him into the parlor.
         He moved to the couch, took a deep breath, and fell into the cushions. “I cannot believe he is gone.”
         I stayed standing and ran my hand over the faint stubble around my mouth. I had no desire to shave these days.
         “How are you feeling?”
         The question made me hesitate. How was I feeling? Didn’t that question speak for itself? I answered with a simple, “Alright, I suppose,” hoping he would leave it with that.
         He washed his hands over his face and tossed his hat onto the center table. “How is Élisabeth taking this?”
         I shrugged. “It is hard to tell with her,” I said. “She seems to be more concerned with me.”
         “Ah, that’s that strong front she has about her.”
         I nodded, knowing it was true. When she had said goodbye to her grandmother and her sister on our wedding day, she had kept her shoulders back and a smile upon her face, but I could feel her true sadness underneath as I stood beside her. She had waved to their leaving carriage and gave me one more fleeting look before going back into the house. In that quick second I had met her eyes, I had seen the grief, the heartache, and the compassion she had for her family. It was enough to bring tears to anyone’s eyes.
         “I’m so sorry about this,” Rupert went on. “Is there anything I can do to help? Please, Andre. Anything.”
         I thought about this for a moment. I had been offered help by many other family friends, and while all were out of kindness, Rupert’s was the only one I considered. “Rupert, I know this may be asking too much of you, but what I really need now is a friend by me.” I scratched under my chin, realizing that the hair growing on my face was becoming rather annoying. “Could you stay a little longer? Please?”
         At first he said nothing, only glanced at his hat. Then he placed his hands on his thighs and pushed himself to his feet. “Of course I can,” he said, “but I think I will be looking for a place of my own to stay. I’ve intruded on your hospitality long enough.”
         I smiled. “Never.”
         “Well,” he began, picking up his top hat, “to be completely honest, I would rather not be disturbing you newlyweds and your alone time.” He wiggled his brows at me. “You are supposed to still be in the Hotel Royal, you know.”
         I laughed despite the rude implication. “I can do with that.”
         “And who knows, maybe France will have a girl for me.”
         “Maybe.”
         He placed the hat on his head crookedly and went to the front door. I followed him and held it open. “If there is anything else you need, Andre…”
         “I know, Rupert.” I gave him a reassuring nod. “And thank you.”
         “I will be in touch. Goodbye.” And with that he turned and descended the steps. I closed the door and sighed as I looked at the now empty foyer. This time was difficult, but I would survive if I had Rupert and Élisabeth by my side. It was as if being surrounded by them—like the king piece in chess—made me stronger. Made it harder for me to fall.
         I went to the library, needing to see Élisabeth’s smile to assure me that I was right—that I could move on from this. She was in one of the winged chairs when I entered, her knees curled under her bottom and a book lying in her lap. She turned the page, her eyes fixed as her lips moved. Smiling, I walked over to stand beside her.
         “What are you reading?” I asked, looking down. 
         She sighed, her shoulders lifting then falling. “I’m trying to finish the ending of Romeo & Juliet. I just need to know how it all plays out.”
         I chuckled. “How is it coming along?”          
         “I’m slow and some words are still strange to me.”
         “It’ll take time.”
         “I know,” she said with a frown. “I just wish it would come to me sooner.”
         Such sadness from her was not what I wanted to see. “Now, now,” I said, moving to stand before her. I ran a finger under her chin so that she would meet my eye. “You have come so far already. You are reading most words on your own when it would take anyone else years to reach your level. Just give it a little more patience, Élisabeth.”
         When her lips captured a smile, I welcomed the skip of my heartbeat.
         “I suppose you are right,” she replied and gazed down at the book again.
         I plopped into the chair opposite her and draped my arms over the rests. I fought my weighty lids from closing as exhaustion pushed to take control of my body. I kept my eyes on Élisabeth, loving the way she bit her lip in full concentration and how she tried to mouth the words on the page. The silence, though, was only aiding the need to doze so I decided to speak in order to keep myself awake. “Rupert called by the house today,” I said, my tone as lazy as I felt.
         Her gaze lifted, and she ran her smooth lips together as if she realized she had been chewing on them. “I thought he went back to Oxford.”
         “So did I, but he got my message while boarding the ship,” I told her. “He said he is going to stay in France for some time. For me.”
         “That was very thoughtful of him,” she said and closed Romeo & Juliet.
         I nodded, deciding it was best not to bring up why Rupert was not staying in the manor with us. The thought of me and Élisabeth wrapped in each other made my face flame, and I glanced away from her. I was ashamed that the act of love still caused such a reaction from me.
         I had been thinking of bringing up my love for her again and asking if the feeling was now mutual, but so many things were weighing my choice to bring it up in conversation, rejection being the heaviest of the clutter. When I was around Élisabeth, heard her speak, felt her touch, I was sure she loved me just as much as I loved her. But there was always a part in her that she held back—a fear that kept her just far enough to make me wonder if she did feel the same.
         I just could not take that chance again. She would tell me when she was ready. She had promised me she would, and when I heard those three precious words, there would be no doubt that they were true.
         I just wished they would come sooner. Just a little more patience, Andre, I told myself. Just a little more.