Amelie's slumber was a battlefield of visions, each more harrowing than the last. She saw her brother, clad in the red and gold of their nations regiment, falling amidst the thunderous roar of hooves clocking. Her heart clenched as she imagined the pistol ball, the sabre thrust, or worse, that might have claimed his life. These visions blurred, like watercolors caught in the rain, into the memory of Edric's tear-streaked face.
As her memories melded together, Amelie found herself standing at Edric's side, her best friend since childhood. It was the day before he marched off to war, the air heavy with the scent of impending autumn and the sound of distant drums calling men to arms. Edric had always been the source of laughter and mischief, yet now his eyes were twin pools of despair, spilling over with the gravity of his fate.
The desperation in his eyes the day before he was called to war haunted her, as did the tremble in his once strong hands. She remembered how his tears streamed down his face like a brook after a storm, mirroring the turbulent emotions brewing within him.
"Edric," she whispered, her voice steady even though her insides quaked. "I'm here for you." She reached out, wrapping her arms around him in a sisterly embrace, one meant to bolster him for the trials ahead. His heart beat against hers, rapid and uneven, and she smoothed her hands down his back in soothing strokes. The fabric of his uniform was coarse under her fingertips, a stark reminder of the harsh reality they faced.
"Shh, it will be alright," she lied, because what else could she say to a boy who stood on the precipice of manhood and mortality?
He looked at her, his normally cheerful demeanor replaced with pain and fear. The boy who had once been equal to her in strength and height was now a head taller than her, the two additional years etched into his features. Hesitantly, she embraced him, their bodies pressed closely together for the first time in far too long.
He pulled back, his breath ragged, his face wearing a heartbreaking blend of love and sorrow as he clumsly pressed his lips onto hers. Edric's lips met hers with a desperation that spoke of his need to feel alive, to claim something beautiful in the face of ugliness. She stumbled backward, the world tilting as she found herself looking up at the clouds, Edric's weight pinning her to the soft grass below. In the confusion, his strength was undeniable, a fervent energy that both frightened and confused her. As he twitched and moaned, stealing glances at her with tear-streaked cheeks, the sensations overwhelmed her. Amelie's chest tightened with an ache that eclipsed the physical discomfort of their awkward position. This was not the farewell of childhood playmates; this was a goodbye steeped in the bitter taste of adulthood and the cruel fickleness of war.
"Edric," she gasped tearing up, feeling the ache in her heart as if she had already lost her best friend to the war.
"Forgive me, Amelie," he murmured, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and sorrow. "I needed you to know how much you mean to me before I leave."
The gentle knocking at the door roused Amelie from her slumber, the vestiges of the dream still clinging to her consciousness. Maggy entered, a tray laden with a humble breakfast in hand, the soft clinking of porcelain against silver breaking the morning silence. Sunlight filtered through the sheer drapery, casting a warm glow over the room that was furnished with an understated opulence befitting the Duke's estate.
"Good morning, Amelie," Maggy greeted her cheerfully, as she placed the tray on a small table near the bed. "I've brought you some porridge, and there's a little extra for the child, out of habit."
"Thank you, Maggy," Amelie murmured, her mind still grappling with the revelations of the night. After studying the books on childbearing, there could be no other explanation. The realization filled her with both joy and sorrow, for it meant that her best friend had left her with a lasting connection, but also a reminder of his absence. The truth had crystallized within her; she could no longer deny the paternity of her unborn child. It was Edric's—the result of their last, his desperation before the war tore him away.
With newfound spiritedness to undoing the first misters regarding her pregnancy, Amelie cradled the duke's child in her arms, offering her breast tenderly. The child now latched on with ease, and she smiled at the little life in her arms.
Soon after breakfast, the Duke's physician arrived to examine Amelie. The older gentleman, with a kind smile and wise eyes, listened intently as she recounted her journey and the strain of caring for the infant.
"Miss Huber," he greeted, offering a polite bow before proceeding with his examination. "You seem a bit fatigued, understandably so after your journey and the nights spent tending to this little one. But I find you otherwise in good health. Your pregnancy is progressing well. If my estimations hold true, we should expect the arrival by March."
Amelie nodded, absorbing his words while stroking the baby's soft hair. The physician then turned his attention to the infant, who had grown rosier and more robust under Amelie's care.
"A fighter, indeed," he remarked with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "He has endured these past weeks because he knew you would come for him."
Amelie could not help but smile at the physician's words, her heart filled with gratitude. As he took his leave, she thanked him for his advice and care.
"Amelie, I'm going to take the child now," Maggy said, entering the room as the doctor departed.
"Very well," Amelie replied, carefully handing the baby over to Maggy, who carried him away to his crib.
"Get yourself ready for the day, Amelie," Anna instructed gently. "There's much to be done."
As Amelie dressed, she pondered her newfound understanding of her connection to Edric and the child within her. The knowledge both comforted and pained her, a constant reminder of the love and friendship they had shared and the uncertainty that lay ahead.