"Does winning a war even stand a comparison to losing a loved one?"
December 16, 1908
Wednesday,
HollyDale
Merry touched the handkerchief Christian had given her the previous evening to find that it was still damp. She sighed. The cold weather could be quite trying when it came to drying clothes, for she had washed the cloth the night before and it still had not dried. She inspected the fabric, smiling when brushing a finger over the initials embedded thereupon, her heart vibrating as if trapped between the strings of a harpsichord. He had been so kind.
Carrying all of the clothes that were dry, she made her way upstairs to arrange them into the children's shelves. They had had a hearty breakfast and there were only a few chores to run before leaving to work. Jesse would usually assist her, but that wasn't the case this morning.
She opened the door of her brothers' room to see Allen spread on the bed with all of the children around him, the twins on his midriff, Claire under his embrace and Jesse's head rested on his shoulder-blade, while they listened. She couldn't help the smile that tempted to spill, when she heard Allen's tales about what a chief, sought-for criminal he had been, notorious for his elusive and swift dexterity at nabbing any valuable he had set his mind to, the sheriffs of every town at his heel, yet far from any chances of capturing him and of one fateful evening when he had laid eyes on a pure and pristine, young Charity he had decided to become a changed man.
Merry placed the neatly folded clothes into the ledge and closed the cupboard, recounting the stories from Charity of what a sorry and hungry child five-year-old Allen had been, chased by the people whose pockets he'd picked, running for cover behind Charity, at the marketplace, who had defended him, claiming that he was his son, returned the said wallets and taken him in. Her story bore no difference from what Merry had witnessed, herself, in his brown eyes.
The damsel stifled a scoff and cleared her throat before walking towards the door. As she passed the threshold, more stories started rolling, about his talented apprentice and sister, Merry, who had been the one faithful comrade in all his crime-tainted years. Well, his stories weren't all that bad. She could live with her siblings believing that.
She paused at the door and turned to see every wide-eyed child listening intently as the story took various twists and turn. Allen's eyes shifted to her, giving her a wink before resuming. She looked over at Jesse, who was listening, with his eyes closed and a smile playing at the side of his mouth. So he knew.
~
"Isabella!" the blond-haired damsel winced, creases of irritation prancing across the shapely brows of her beautiful face. The maid combing her golden hair flinched at the sharp sound of her name, apologising for gripping the locks by a slight notch harder.
"Would you like me to adorn the bun with flowers, m'lady?" she asked, waiting for Bianca Merritt to consider her response. "Yes", she stated, continuing to study her reflecting. There was not a blemish upon her radiant skin, every feature sculpted to finesse.
After the maid was finished grooming her hair, Bianca rose to her feet and made her way to the balcony. The latest of events at HollyDale had been the arrival of a certain three foreigners from Frostshire and Allen O'Bell. It had hardly bothered her, until news of the Lockwoods' immense wealth had reached her family's attention.
It was bewildering that Ladye Lockwood would choose a bride from HollyDale for her prosperous nephew besides the elegant Bianca Merritt. The charming lady twirled a lock of her hair in her finger, gazing at the snow that had flooded their streets the night before. After her parents had decided that Bianca absolutely had to meet the heir of the Lockwood wealth, Jude Devin Christian, she seemed to be very much inclined at the prospect of being introduced.
There was still one invitation left to be given for the Merritts' Ball the following evening. Bianca could not wait to invite the Lockwoods. But a mere introduction may not suffice.
She continued to watch, as she spotted Jesse, a child from the same orphanage, treading through the street. She knew he was Merry's "younger brother". A smile tugged at the side of her lip as she considered what she needed to do.
~
Seeing Merry off to the library, Jesse made his way through the snow of the streets. It was always so pleasant when Allen visited. He remembered how distraught the whole family had been when his brother had left for the city. Although it had helped him grow closer to his sister, Allen had quite a talent with reining the whole family together when he visited, even for a short while.
It would be heart-rending when Allen leaves again. In fact, this particular visit might just be worse, for Merry would be getting married away to Frostshire, as well. Something that resembled loneliness began to tug at his heart. He suddenly wasn't very sure how eager he was for his sister's wedding.
He would have to become the eldest and take care of all of his siblings. And more importantly, Merry wouldn't be there to listen to him or help. Taking long strides, he looked up to see the sky cloudy. That couldn't be good. He needed to make his way to the physician's at the earliest.
The school-house had closed for winter and Jesse had a lot of time at his disposal. He had chosen to engage in helping various people through the holiday season, as it would benefit them and give him the experience he may require once he would search for an employment.
He remembered how things used to be when Allen had been visiting the Evergreens after school, in order to gain exposure. It baffled him to imagine how his brother may have balanced lumbering and helping around town, for everyone of HollyDale was familiar with his engaging persona. Jesse had kept his brother up late various nights to help him study, not knowing how much the man may have worked to yearn for rest.
That was the kind of big brother he wanted to be: the kind that his people could lean on, the kind that would be missed.
The first cold drop of freezing rain kissed Jesse's nose, causing him to look up. Brows furrowed together. He needed to make it out of the open as soon as he could. Seeing the physician's office within eye-shot, the child ran.
~
"'I would not wish to be hasty in censuring anyone; but I always speak what I think.'
'I know you do; and it is that which makes the wonder. With your good sense, to be so honestly blind to the follies and nonsense of others! Affectation of candour is common enough– one meets with it everywhere. But to be candid without ostentation or design–to take the good of everybody's character and make it still better, and say nothing of the bad–belongs to you alone'"
Merry leaned back to inspect the passage she had typed. The edition of Pride and Prejudice that the library had held in its possession was beginning to see loose leaves and a dishevelled body. She had, therefore, begun conveying the contents of the eroding book into the pages fixed upon the typewriter.
The sound of rushing waters had told her that it was raining. She wondered if her family was safe, each in different edges of the town. One thing, however, was quite certain: she wouldn't have any customers until the showers ceased. Her mind wandered, for a moment, imagining where Christian would be.
Moments passed before she heard the sound of a door. Footsteps approached, and Merry peered curiously, although she should have been accustomed to expect Ladye stepping in to check on her. She saw Christian walking in instead, his attention on the cuff of his sleeve that he was dealing with. He looked over to find her seated behind the typewriter.
Before she could pretend she wasn't looking, his warm smile had caught her and she smiled back, casting her gaze down to her hands.
"Are you engaged?" he asked, his voice deep, yet compelling authority over the sound of the torrential downpour.
She shook her head and answered, "Not at all! I was merely replicating Pride and Prejudice for Ladye." Nodding, he walked over and took a seat beside. A rush of chill ran though her body with every part of his approach.
~
Resting his ankle against a knee, Christian leaned back in the chair. He watching as Merry's poised hands refused to type further. With consideration spared to whether she was particularly nervous of his intense gaze, the dark-haired man turned his eyes to scan the books neatly arranged in the shelves. Something about her naivety was particularly enchanting.
The titles at the spine of books positioned on the shelves lured his attention: Hamlet, the Merchant of Venice, Twelfth Night, Confessions, the Art of War...
War.
Christian turned to see Merry staring at the pages of the book she was to copy. "What perspective of War do you hold?" he asked, jolting her concentration out of the pages before her. Eyes darting to watch her twist the lock of hair that had escaped her up-do around her finger, he couldn't resist the fascination that washed over his senses, at her tiniest impressions.
"I believe it is an ugly venture", she started, looking remorseful. The sound of the storm began to escalate, making the hall of the library colder. Something about being confined felt pleasant with such charming company. Leaning folded arms against the table, he noticed her slight hesitation before she proceeded.
"John and Andrew were victims", she continued, looking like she was in their place. "Fire, chaos, arrows, horses, screaming, wailing, commands calling destruction upon fellow people, children crying, with no discerning of what a terrifying position they were even in. My brothers had last seen their father before he had left to join the army and they hadn't even known. It wasn't long before the attack was waged against their town and everything the innocent children had known were burnt to cinders. They were found safely in the arms of their mother, whose last breath was spent protecting her children. It was her last prayers that have found them a home here at the tender age of three. And yet, Andrew has been mute ever since."
The emotion in her faint voice was evidence that the story had deeply moved her. "It appears as if you beheld it come to pass", said he, reflecting on how vivid the events were. "I-I was told", Merry fumbled, before he looked over, concerned.
"Have you any insight on the matter?" She asked, looking inquisitive. Leaning back, he raked a hand through his ebony hair, as if pensive and said, "There're agitations dawning at the coast."
A gasp from her side called his attention to see her brows knit in worry. "A coming war?" she asked, looking like the light had drained from her face.
"I'm sure all strives will be held at bay, but there are warriors laying their lives as a barrier to defend the country", he said, his voice tender. "Alexander Evans, our friend is one among them."
He looked over to give her a smile, seeing fret touch every part of her countenance. "Have you heard from him?" she asked and he nodded. "He wrote to your brother and me about the stirs, before we embarked on our journey here", he said, before a pause. "Merry, have you ever considered writing your admiration to the soldiers?"
"Never yet, but it seems delightful."
"I would deeply recommend you try. Perhaps just a brief letter"
"I would love to", she said, a shy smile on her lips.
A blanket of frigid chill enveloped them, the cackles of thunder beginning to rule the skies. He watched Merry rise to her feet and walk over to draw the curtains. "What was Alexander Evans like?" she asked as she turned to face him.
With a reminiscent smile stealing his lips, he thought back to every shade of innocence and caring that Alex had been. "Radiant, noble, kind and juvenile", he said. "There isn't a day he would pass without shining his smile upon everyone within his reach. Allen and him, they made great friends at first sight", Christian lifted his gaze to look into her olive eyes.
All at a moment, Merry looked frozen and pale.
~
Fire blazing from every side, Merry saw the vision from the very first meeting begin to unwind around her. She hadn't understood why this particular vision had such a paralysing effect on her, but it was much too late to consider that now. Scorching heat and descending shambles of the burning building pursued as her vision advanced closer to the heart of the house. The faint voice of a baby's crying sounded, before she saw a turn to every side of the blazing scene, as if searching.
There was a delicate baby, wailing from the heat, safely under much flaring debris. She saw arms embrace the infant, cradling it safely before turning to break out of the ignited inferno. Within moments, hazy shades of a night sky were visible, beyond clouds and clouds of suffocating smoke and a hoarse voice frantically called out "Christian". The silhouette of a larger man came running and as the rushing steam cleared to show the visage of the man, she recognised she had seen him quite some years ago.
~
Cold drops of water touched her eyes as she felt her scandalised senses surfacing. She would not place what had happened, but there was a strong grip around her shoulders. Different colours danced before her eyes, in a hazy display and she blinked a few times, endeavouring to see distinctly.
The sight of Christian's discrete profile at close proximity, with ridges of strain across his face, strands of dark hair that had escaped his swept-back mane spilling over and a scar tracing from his cheek to the sharp edge of his jaw, caused her heart to panic. Her throbbing head refused to let her gain stability before she looked around to see that they were in the library.
It was when she had stiffened her hold that she realised her grip on the fabric of his shirt. His strong embrace burned against her waist and she swallowed, hoping her hammering heartbeat wouldn't amplify any further. "I'm well", she whispered, barely able to hear her own voice.
"Rest still, I'm by your side", said Christian, his warm breath against her ear. She leaned her head against his chest and took a quiet moment. The sudden eruption of thunder outside sent her consciousness to a frenzied jolt.
A sturdy arm rested about her shoulder in assurance, "Easy now" he whispered. In a moment's time, she gathered her bearings, placing a hand over his lap to get up from the stone-cold floor. With Christian giving her the needed support, Merry sat at the table, feeling too dizzy to decide her degree of embarrassment.
Trances hadn't always afflicted her so violently and she was beginning to hope her gift never resided with her. She looked up to see the ebony-haired man place a dishevelled book before her. "I believe this one is your favourite?" he smiled warm, like he hadn't just witnessed her absolutely demolish.
She smiled and nodded. "It's only the compilation of a few books of the Bible. I like it for reasons besides just the holy print upon it", she said, gazing at the hardback, cracks on the face of its cover revealing the name Florence Hill.
~
It was dusk by the time Bianca and her mother had reached the Lockwoods' estate beside the library. She brushed the fur around her shoulder as they waited for someone to get the door. With the sound of a click, the ladies perked up to see loving Nate receive them with a smile.
Seated within the exquisite parlour, Bianca's eyes constantly darted about the room, looking for Jude Devin Christian, who happened to be the object of the conversation her mother shared with Ladye Lockwood. It was not the most pleasant thing to hear that he had left to rest already.
The golden-haired damsel had seen him walking Merry home, listening intently to the various things she seemed to be saying. Something about the way his attention was inclined, like he was observing more about the crimson-haired girl than her mere words, made her stomach churn. Gripping her handkerchief in frustration, she turned to see Natalia gazing at Sir Davies, her own husband, like she wasn't already married to the man.
Bianca waited till Mrs. Merritt made sufficient conversation before extending the invitation to the Merritts' Ball arranged the next evening.
Ladye seemed more than pleased regarding the bidden welcome.
~
Charity had been everything related to ecstasy when Christian Lockwood had met her at the cottage's doorstep to safely see her daughter home. Little had she known of the great deal of disarray that had caused the need for such chivalry.
Jesse sat down beside Merry to talk about her day, only to hear unending fantasies of Christian's absolute hospitality. He had a great deal to say, but he could understand his sister's need to vent. It was his sole wish that he would not, at any stage in life, become the disaster that was Merry O'Bell, with her wild range of varied emotions.
A part of him was disappointed for how much she had changed. Every ounce of what she had described had made him wonder if Christian truly was as gentle and kind as his sister blindly trusted.
~
Merry had only a single candle lit while the rest of her family was sound asleep. She had taken seriously to respect what Christian had told her of writing to the Soldiers. As the flames of her candle danced, incinerating its wax, she stared at the paper and ink before her. What could she possibly say?
"What are you doing?" caused her to flinch in shock. "Allen!" she whispered angrily. "You startled me."
Placing a hand over her chest to calm her racing heart, Merry watched her brother sit down on the chair beside her. When she told him of the prospect of writing her appreciation to the defence of the nation and of her lack of direction to how she would begin, he nodded in deep consideration.
"Imagine you are writing to a specific soldier. Consider all of your feelings and everything you would say to them if you did see them face-to-face, and write away", he said before rising to his feet and turning to walk away, giving her the privacy she needed. The insight he had given her was quite useful and she thanked him, turning to her unwritten letter, as the sound of footsteps came to a halt.
"Don't stay up too late", he spared before leaving her in the candle-lit room.
A smile spread across her lips. There were good men in her life.