The Regimental Heroes Anthology(36)
“No. Rules. Titles. I am still John. The house may call me Lord, but you are still to call me John. I will not have that change. I need some form of normality that I can believe in.”
“If you need me, I will be here. All you have to do is ask.”
John checked in on the boys. “Would it be all right if Graeme stayed the night here? He is sleeping so peacefully, something I fear I will not.”
“Of course. You never need to ask permission to leave Graeme with me. I care for him as if he were another son.”
He studied her for a moment as if to check to see that she were telling the truth. He nodded, kissed her hand again, and closed the door behind him.
Vivienne leaned against the wall and clenched her fingers. The memory of John’s lips remained etched on her skin.
Chapter Four
Three weeks had passed since Lord Mitchell’s death. His funeral was grandiose, his body laid out in the town’s cathedral for all to see, surrounded by thousands of flowers. Vivienne observed at the funeral, and now with the house staff, that no one seemed to terribly miss the elder Lord.
Pity. God rest his soul.
Had he treated friends, business colleagues, and staff the same wretched way he treated John? Was he cold and uncaring to everyone around him?
When she and Charlie took dinner in the main kitchen, the staff chattered. They liked John, but she’d never heard a kind word uttered about his father. They said the young Lord never spoke or acted cruelly. As the new Lord of the estate, John raised their pay to fifteen shillings a day! An unheard-of hefty sum. The elder lord hadn’t raised the staff’s wages in ten years and this was almost double the past amount. Along with vails from visitors, the staff acted as if they’d received the crown jewels or found a pot of gold in the stables.
Everyone, including herself, wore proper black mourning attire, but she found the ‘mourning’ mood of the house to be almost jubilant.
As the afternoon wore on, Vivienne tried to keep the boys’ attention focused on their English lessons. From the low sun in the sky, the small room where they sat was excessively warm. The boys held little interest in bookwork.
“When can I see my Uncle?” Graeme said, and stuck out his lip in a pout. “I have hardly seen him since grandpapa died. Is he mad at me?”
Vivienne tossed her skirts to the side and knelt beside the boy. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“Uncle probably thinks it’s my fault. Everyone dies around me. And now he doesn’t want to see me.” There were tears in the little boy’s eyes.
She pulled him against her. “Oh, Graeme. Never think that. None of this happened because of you.”
“Then why is uncle always gone?” When she didn’t answer quickly enough, he threw out his hands in a dramatic fashion. “He doesn’t want me either. No one wants me.”
She consoled Graeme and hugged him tight. When she looked over Graeme’s shoulder, Charlie stood beside them. He was crying too. She tucked her son under her other arm.
Charlie pulled back and patted his friend on the arm. “Graeme, I didn’t die and I’ll never die, I promise. I will be here and you can always be my friend. I don’t have a brother, so you can be my brother and my friend.”
“I can?” Graeme sniffed and rubbed his nose on his linen sleeve.
“Sure.”
Vivienne was very proud of her son, but at the same time her heart broke. What a gallant thing for a young boy of six to say. Yes, John was right, Charlie’s father would have been proud. She felt a tear of her own slip free and skitter down her cheek.
“I have an idea.” She stood gaining composure and brushed off her skirt. “Why don’t we go and find your uncle. He can help us with your vocabulary list.”
“Can we work with him on the ship model?” Charlie asked exuberantly.
“Maybe, if you finish all your lessons, and you have permission, we will see.”
At the opposite end of the house, they found the study door cracked open. Vivienne rapped knuckles once.
“Go away,” a stern voice answered.
“I’m sorry. Lord John?’ She pulled the boys through the door behind her. “Graeme has asked to come and see you. I am sure you can spare a moment.”
She was shocked to see dark circles under John’s eyes and his hair a dishevelled mess. He stood from behind the desk and walked toward them.
“Please,” she continued. She tried to keep the pleading tone from her voice, but John needed to understand the gravity of the situation. “Graeme has been asking about you.”
“I do not have the time—”