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Love in the Time of War

By: jerseyblue



Prologue: The Western Front 1915

He needed time to think. The noise, the sights were overwhelming. The smells of cordite and blood nauseated him. Major William Stewart, King's Royal Rifles, was scared. He never expected it to be like this. Hunkered down in a fetid shell hole, his batman laying next to him, gurgling his life away, the Major was miles away from home.

He lay on his back and looked at the sky. He tried to clear his head and make sense of what was happening.

"Major, Major!" the lieutenant yelled into ear. "What do you want us to do? Major!"

He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to go away. He looked into the lieutenant's face and realized the man wanted an answer. He wanted an answer now.

Common sense meant to stay where they were, only twenty five yards from the German trenches. Wait till darkness and then pull back was the only logical answer. But common sense and logic wasn't useful at this time. Orders were to take that trench line and orders were orders.

As a second son to Lord Berwick, William had lived an easy life. No difficult decisions and life on a silver platter was his lot. He married well but all that meant nothing now. He made his decision.

Major Stewart placed his whistle in his mouth and blew. Expecting his men to follow, he stood up and yelled, "Follow me, lads."

The first bullet struck him in the chest, staggering but not stopping him. The next bullet passed through his open mouth and exploded out the back of his head. Major William Stewart, King's Royal Rifles, second son to Lord Berwick, was dead before he hit the ground.

 *******

Of course it rained the day of the funeral. Mother said even the heavens were in mourning. The mood at the house was one of deep depression. If one talked at all it was in whispered tones. Mother kept to her room while William's widow, Catherine, seemed to wander the large house aimlessly. Alice, William's youngest sister, tried to be with her as much as possible but she had her own grief to deal with.

The funeral was one of the largest folks could remember. The small village church was crowded with so many mourners that many were left out in the rain. William was well liked by all who meet him. Many of the town's people had a story or two about him. He was that type of man.

The entire family gathered at the grave, Lord Berwick, brothers, James and Charles, and his two sisters and the new widow, Catherine. A bride of less than two years, she now wore widow's black. Lady Berwick could not attend, her grief overcoming her. The pastor said a few meaningless words and the crowd broke up.

As the mourners left the graveside, only Charles and Catherine remained. Looking into the grave, Lt. Charles Stewart took the widow's hand. "Such a waste."

"Yes. Yes it is," Catherine mumbled. She looked up at Charles. Taking her gloved hand, she stroked his cheek. "Charles, dear Charles. You must come back to me."

Chapter One

The Western Front 1917

Captain Charles Stewart took a long sip on his tea. It was hot and strong and he could feel it going down. The fact it was laced with rum simply added to it. It took the chill off the early spring night. Seated in the damp, musky dugout, he looked around. Across from him, asleep with his head down on the wooden table was 1st Lt. Cecil Woodburn. Woodburn was an outstanding officer. Actually Stewart felt Woodburn was a better officer than him. Only a few years older, Stewart counted the lieutenant as his best friend.

Over in the corner sat the company's other lieutenant, William Smythe, a rather arrogant, self important fellow. Smythe felt he deserved better than being stuck here in this smelly, rat infested hole. He claimed his father had connections and it wouldn't be long before he was out of here. The Captain wished it was sooner because in case of trouble, he was sure he couldn't count on Smythe.

Private Cookson, their batman, slept in the corner, wrapped in an old blanket. Cookson was barely 19 but he knew his way around. Supplies showed up from out of nowhere and there always seemed to be plenty to go around. Stewart never asked where he got the stuff and Cookson never volunteered any information. Last Christmas he found half of baked turkey breast and fresh greens. They had a meal fit for kings. Topped off with cookies sent from Woodburn's wife, it was a very merry Christmas.

Stewart shook his head. It certainly was a long way from Stanhope Manor, a long way. Early spring there meant green grass, flowers, and returning birds. Stewart smiled as he thought of the spring parties and the pretty girls showing off their new dresses. Here it was mud, Indescribable odors, and death. He took out a locket from inside his tunic and let his mind drift.

Charles Stewart, the 3rd son of the Lord Berwick, came from a large family, three boys and two girls. Being the youngest son meant that in the main scheme of things he was an afterthought. His oldest brother, James, would inherit Stanhope and the title. He and his wife, Patricia, already had two daughters and were hoping someday to have a boy in order to keep the line going. James was doing his war part by working for the Foreign Secretary.

William Stewart, the middle brother, had it all. Without the pressure of being the eldest, he enjoyed life to the fullest. He had his pick of women and played the field expertly. When he did decide, he picked a real beauty, Catherine Pelham-Wilkes, daughter of the Earl of Graydon. Blonde, blue eyes, and statuesque, Catherine could have picked anyone but she chose William. It seemed to be a match made in heaven and the marriage just before he went to France with his battalion was destined to produce wonderful children. That is until William was killed leading his men at Loos in September of 1915. 

The last time Charles got home was for William's funeral. Despite the gloom William's death cast over the family, everyone tried to act as it was before the war. The first thing he noticed upon arrival was the reduced size of the staff. Buxton, head of the house, greeted him as he walked in the front door.

"Mister Charles!" Buxton said in surprise. "You should have let us know you were coming."

"No, Buxton. No fuss. I didn't find out myself until a few days ago. I would have got here before the telegram."

"Charles!" a female voice called from around the corner. Alice, his youngest sister, came running into the hall." Throwing her arms around him she said,"Oh, Charles, you are home. What a surprise! I'll tell the others." Alice and Charles were very close, being only a few years apart. With that she ran off to tell the others.

The word spread quickly. Soon the hall was filled with excited voices. His other sister, Mary, was there, just excited as Alice was to see him. Her husband was off doing his duty in the Navy.

"Charles, you look well," Mary said. 

"Thank you, Mary. You look well yourself."

All grew quiet as Charles' mother and father entered the room.

"Mother, Father," Charles said as he walked towards them.

"You should have let us know you were coming. Gave your mother an awful start."

"Sorry, Father. I hope you will forgive me, Mother."

"How long will you be staying?" his mother asked.

"Three days. I must be getting back."

"So soon? You just got here and you talk of leaving," his mother said taking his hands.

"Well, Mother, there is a war on."

"Charles!" his father exclaimed. "We are quite aware."

"Yes, Father. Please forgive me."

"We will expect you at dinner. We still dress for it."

Dinner was difficult as Mother tried to make small talk. She asked questions of Charles that seemed bothersome. She wanted to know about his life but not really. The girls tried to change the subject by talking about old times; the parties, the girls and the young men who were part of the life of Stanhope. Unfortunately most of men were either dead or shells of what they were. The war was changing everything and no one was immune.

Finally Charles had had enough. Throwing down his napkin, he stormed from the room. He wasn't sure where he was going and he found himself walking around the large house. Finally he headed down towards the kitchen and the servants' eating area. Head down and not paying attention, he crashed into one of maids, almost knocking her down.

"Excuse me. Please forgive me," Charles said helping her regain her balance. It was then he looked into her face. "Kathleen?"

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Kathleen, it is me, Charles. Don't you recognize me?" He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her face.

"Yes, sir, I do," She answered and attempted to move away.

Kathleen had dreaded this moment since she had returned to service at Stanhope. She first worked there at 16 as a lowly scullery maid and stayed on, rising in the ranks. It was here where she met Charles. He was 18 and he treated her like she was a person. Even though they both knew about the social dividing line between them, their friendship grew. Charles was always the gentleman and never used his rank or power to make her feel uncomfortable. 

Despite everything, their relationship did upset her co-workers who believed that something had to be going on. They would see the two of them together and the rumors would spread. No matter what she said would stop them. How could it because she had fallen in love with Charles. She never told him so he never knew.

After 5 years of service, she married a local man, 4 years her senior. She didn't love him but he treated her well. She quit Stanhope and had a child, a son, and blocked her feelings for Charles. Then the war came and her husband joined the local PAL battalion. And like thousands of others, he died on the Somme. So she swallowed her pride, had her mother watch her son and she took a job at Stanhope, knowing what it entailed. Now the situation she feared was at hand. 

Love in the Time of War Ch. 02



Before either of them could speak, Mrs. Williams came around the corner.

"For Heaven's sakes, don't just stand there," she said taking Charles by the hand. "Kathleen, you can't have him all to yourself."

Mrs. Williams was in charge of the girls and along with Mr. Buxton, kept Stanhope up and running. It was their job to make sure everything was done and done right. Mrs. Williams had been there as long as Charles could remember and he had heard both his father and mother comment on what a fine job she did. When Mrs. Williams spoke, people moved.

As Charles entered the room, the staff was seated around the kitchen table, relaxing from their long day. They stood the moment he entered the room.

"Oh please, sit down," Charles said as he took a seat at the table.

"This is highly unusual," Buxton groused.

"Buxton, you know I have felt more at ease here than upstairs. Beside I wanted to say hello to your staff and meet the new ones. Mrs. Hodges, could you make me a cup of your best tea? Let's see if you remember how I like it?" Charles smiled.

Mrs. Hodges, the cook, got up. "Yes, sir and I do remember. Just you wait and see."

She returned quickly with the tea and placed in front of him. He took one sip. "Bravo!" he said. "Now, Buxton, who do we have here?"

Buxton introduced the people around the table. There were two maids, Annie and Elisa, across the table and both had arrived since Charles left. Mother's lady, McHale, who had been with the family as long as Mrs. Williams, was seated next to them. Kathleen was seated at the foot of the table. There were two men seated on the same side as Charles. One was Montgomery. He was father's valet and had been with him since the Boer War. The other was new, like the girls. His name was McTavish, a Scot, about Charles' brother's age. Charles had seen him upstairs.

Charles shook hands in greeting each one, new and old. There was something about him that the staff always liked. There was no airs about him. He made them feel comfortable in his presence.

As Charles reached for McTavish's hand, the Scot seemed hesitant. It was then Charles realized that he missing two fingers on it.

"I see," Charles said withdrawing his hand. "Sorry."

"No need, sir. It's me Blighty wound. Got it at Loos. King's Royal Rifles, sir"

"That's was my brother's battalion. He was killed there, you know," Charles said softly.

"Knew of the major, sir. He was a good man."

"They all were, McTavish. Please, sit."

The conservation turned light and soon everyone was enjoying themselves. Other maids came in as the dinner was ending or the family was retiring. Each was introduced to Charles. Again some he was familiar with and others were brand new. So the room began to fill. McHale and Montgomery had gone upstairs to tend to his Lordship and lady, Buxton and McTavish to see to the others. Charles rose to leave.

"Please, stay seated. You have no idea how much I enjoyed this time. I'm sorry if I kept you up. I know you have a busy day. Good night," Charles said. "If I may, Mrs. Williams, may I have a word with you?"

The two went out of the room and out of earshot.

"Yes, sir?"

"I know this unusual, but do you have any errands to run tomorrow?" he asked.

"Why, yes. Why?" she replied.

"I would like you to allow Kathleen to accompany you on them and tell me when you are going."

"Yes this highly unusual," Mrs. Williams said. "But I believe it can be arraigned." She smiled, understanding his meaning. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Williams. You are a dear," With that he kissed her on the cheek and left.

He wasn't ready for bed quite yet so he headed for the library. Upon entering he saw his father and Buxton engaged in conversation. He began to retreat.

"No no, Charles, stay. Buxton was just leaving," Father called to him.

"Anything else, my Lord," Buxton said, bowing.

"No. That will be all. Thank you."

As Buxton closed the door, Lord Berwick said to his son, "Care for a drink, a night cap?"

"Yes, sir," Charles replied walking towards him. His father was not an overly large man but he filled the room with his being. He was the upper class, nobless oblige, and he knew it. He commanded respect from all, even his family. His grey hair bespoke his age but added to his bearing.

Pouring Charles a drink, he said, "You know you upset your mother at dinner tonight."

"Yes, Father, but," Charles began.

"No buts. There is no excuse," 

Suddenly changing his tone, he put his drink down. "Your mother is very worried about you. Especially since William's death." He turned away and walked towards the window. "I believe the women have it worst than the men, like you. As cruel as it may sound, William died once but your mother dies a little every day."

Charles walked and stood next to his father. They stood in silence.

Without looking at him, his father spoke. "Is it as awful as they say it is, over there?"

"Father, it is worst than you can imagine. The smells, the sights, the horrors. I've witnessed things that I won't wish on anyone. It's bloody hell."

His father put his hand on Charles' shoulder. He was so proud of him. Charles was his mother's favorite and he took more to her side of the family. Smaller than his two brothers, he also was the quieter one. There was something inside him that made him seem stronger, a natural leader, someone you could count on. It was at this moment that his father realized this. He squeezed his shoulder. "For God's sake, take care of yourself." He whispered.

Quickly he turned and left the room leaving Charles speechless.

Placing his drink down Charles headed upstairs to his room. As he approached his sister Alice's room, Kathleen was leaving it.

"Kathleen, we need to talk," he said to her.

"Good night, sir," she said continuing on her way, leaving him standing there. 

As he began to move on, Alice opened the door. "Come in here," she beckoned.

Charles entered, finding her seated on her bed, dressed in her nightgown.

"I shouldn't be in here. It isn't proper."

"Oh stop being silly. Remember we use to bathe together. Now shut the door and sit here."

"That was when we were three and four. That has nothing to do with this," he whispered.

He sat on the bed, resting against the bedpost. "This better be good."

"Well, have you talked to her?" she whispered.

"Talked to whom? What are talking about?" he raised his voice.

"Kathleen, silly. She works here now."

"I know that! Why would I want to talk to her?"

She shook her head. "Because you still might be in love with her?"

Charles stood up and walked to the other side of the bed. "What gave you that idea? She is a servant, a widow with a child."

Alice leaned across the bed. "This is your sister you are talking to. Your best friend. I know you and you have been in love with Kathleen since you first met her. All those years ago. Haven't you?"

"Let's say I am. So what? She won't even talk to me now." Charles held Alice's hands. "What chance is there in that?"

"Dear brother, don't sell yourself short. A little bird told me you have a very good chance."

"Good night, Alice. I think it is good to home. At least for a short while," With that Charles kissed Alice on the forehead and headed off to his room. As he settled into the bed, he thought to himself, "We'll just see what tomorrow brings."



Love in the Time of War Ch. 03



Next morning everyone was up and dressed before Charles made his appearance at breakfast. It was a tradition cold breakfast but the tea was hot. Everything tasted wonderful and he felt more at ease than last night. It was wonderful what a good night's sleep could do for one's spirits. He made directly for his mother. He didn't notice last evening how she had aged since he last saw her. Father was right about her dying a little each day.

"Mother, you are looking well," he lied, kissing her cheek. "I'm so sorry about last night. It was very rude of me."

"That was alright. You must be under a terrible stain over there."

"No more than you and the others here. There is no excuse," Charles apologized.

"Do you have any plans?" she asked. "I took the liberty of inviting James and his family to visit. I also invited Catherine. She is such a nice girl, Charles, so young, so beautiful, such a tragedy. I so want the whole family together."

How could Charles answer? That he didn't want to see James, Patricia, and the girls. That all he wanted was to relax, not put on airs, not to be put on display. He knew that since William's death, Mother had felt that Charles and Catherine should see one another again. The two were the same age having virtually grown up together. The family at first thought it would be Charles and Catherine who would marry but William used his charms to win her. Charles was angry at him but not enough to create a stir over it. As usual he looked at the big picture. Creating a stir would have caused problems within the family and no one wanted that. Beside Catherine seemed happy with her choice.

"No real plans, Mother. The weather being so nice that I thought I might stroll into the village, take in the old sights," he replied.

"Don't be gone long. Don't forget, James is coming."

He walked the grounds, alone with his thoughts. Returning to Stanhope had brought back feelings that he had long suppressed. Perhaps Alice was right. Perhaps he was in love with Kathleen. Then what? Should he tell her? And if she said she loved him, as Alice believed, what should they do? Marry? What would Father and Mother say? Suddenly life at the front became easier. It was black and white, life or death there. No grey area.

McTavish found him pacing beneath one of the ancient oaks and handed Charles a note.

"It is from Mrs. Williams, sir," he said.

"Why, thank you, McTavish. Here is a coin for your effects.

Charles read the note telling him that she and Kathleen had left for the village and one of the stops would be the local butcher. He stuck the note in his pocket and headed off.

He waited around the corner from the butcher shop and right on cue, Mrs. Williams and Kathleen exited. He walked up to them.

"What a pleasant surprise! Good afternoon, Mrs. Williams, Kathleen," he said tipping his hat. "May I walk with you?"

"Please do," Mrs. Williams replied.

They walked around the village, stopping at the shops, gathering supplies. The three of them made small talk as they walked, discussing old times. Kathleen told them about her son, Johnny. He was a little over three and lived with her mother. She saw him every weekend as they lived in the next town over. 

Mrs. Williams excused herself as she recognized an old friend. They had finished their shopping and Charles had his hands full with the bags. Kathleen and he headed back to Stanhope.

"Finally, Kathleen, we can talk," Charles said. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not," she said softly. "I am afraid to talk to you. I'm afraid of what might happen, what I might say."

"Why?"

"I should have never come back!"

"I glad you did!" Charles exclaimed. 

Kathleen turned her head away.

"Kathleen, I'm going to be honest with you. We may not have a lot of time so I'm going to take a chance. I love you and I have for a long time," he blurted out.

Kathleen stopped and looked at him. "You have no idea how long I have waited to hear that." She wanted to put her arms around him but with all the bags he was holding she couldn't. The two did a small dance attempting to find a position to do it. Finally they both laughed.

"So now what?" Kathleen asked.

"We'll talk tonight. We'll figure something out." 

They entered the kitchen and placed the bags on the table. Looking around and seeing no one, they embraced. "Till tonight."

Charles headed up stairs. On his way he ran into Buxton.

"I was looking for you, sir," Buxton said. "You are wanted in the Drawing room. James and his wife are here."

"Damn." He looked at his watch. He didn't realize how late it was. "Tell them I'll be down in a minute. I have to change for dinner."

"Very well, sir."

Charles hustled up the stairs to his room. He needed time to think about what had occurred between Kathleen and him but he wasn't going to get it. He found his dinner clothes laid out for him so he quickly dressed and rushed off to the Drawing room. He took a deep breath, opened the doors, and stepped in.

He was surprised to see every one there, his 2 sisters, Mother and Father, Catherine, Patricia, and of course, James. He seemed to the center of attention, as he always was, entertaining with some story of London and politics. Charles caught the names Winston and Lloyd George being bantered about. He stood quietly off to the side, not wanting to interrupt.

James finished his story with a hearty laugh that everyone joined in. Looking around, he exclaimed, "Charles! Hail the returning warrior," With a few steps, he reached him. Putting his arm around Charles' shoulder, he turned around and moved to the center of the room.

"I willing to lay a L5 note than he hasn't told any of you the good news," James announced.

"What is it, James?" Mary asked.

"Yes, what have you been keeping from us, Charles?"

"It is really nothing," Charles mumbled.

"Nothing!" James loudly said. "My dear brother is to be mentioned in dispatches and probably promoted to Major for behavior last month. Are you going to tell them or should I?" He didn't give Charles a chance to answer.

"Well then I will. It seems the dirty Huns broke through our lines and were threatening a lot more. Captain Stewart and a sergeant..."

"Collingswood," Charles added.

"Yes, quite right. Charles and this Sergeant Collingswood charged down the trench line until they came to a junction. There they erected a barricade. The two of them stemmed the Boche advance until others could be rallied and rushed to their aid. That's right, isn't it, Charles?"

He wanted to tell them that at the time he was filled with pure blood lust and wanted just to kill as many Germans as possible. That he wasn't thinking, just reacting. How a grenade bounced off his helmet and exploded behind Collingswood, horribly wounding him but the sergeant kept fighting. He wanted to tell them that afterwards he broke down and was emotionally drained. Instead he only nodded.

"According to my sources, he will be given a MC for his actions and there is talk of a DSO," James added, obviously proud of his youngest brother.

Alice rushed to his side."So you're a hero."

Catherine walked to him and placed a hand on his arm. Looking into his eyes, she said, "That was an incredibly brave thing to do. You must take more care of yourself." The meaning of what she said wasn't lost on those who heard it.

Buxton entered the room at that moment. "Ladies, gentlemen, dinner is ready."



Love in the Time of War Ch. 04



Dinner was a much better occasion tonight. The conversations didn't seem forced and there was a lot more laughter around the table. Perhaps it was James' presences or Charles being home for a second day but it as close to the days before the war as possible.

Charles found himself seated between Patricia, James' wife and Catherine. It was no mistake that his mother placed him there. He always liked Patricia and believed she made a great wife for James. Her quiet demeanor offset James' bombastic outbursts but also hid a strong determination. She was not afraid to speak her mind but she also knew when to hold her opinions. She was not the beauty Catherine was and no one ever said she was. Her brown hair framed a pretty face and a smile that could captivate those she liked. Since her marriage and the birth of two children, she had gained weight. Though not matronly, she was not thin young woman Charles knew before.

"I sometimes wish James would realize that he doesn't need to entertain people," Patricia whispered to Charles.

"He has always been that way," Charles replied.

"Yes, I know," Patricia said. "But he doesn't need to. I think he tries too hard."

"Well, he has to prove his worth. He has the burden as heir."

"He is successful," Catherine added.

"Yes, he is but I feel he wants more. He feels that he is in a contest that he must win every time," Patricia said leaning closer.

"In what way?" Catherine asked.

"He wants a son badly, to carry on the line. We have tried but without luck."

"But you have two daughters! Doesn't he...?" Catherine inquired.

"Yes, and he loves them dearly. Charles, you must know how he feels. You mentioned the burden."

"Yes, I do but that is the luxury of being the third son. No pressure."

Patricia put her hand on Charles' arm and looked at him, then Catherine. "I wouldn't be so quick to say that."

Charles looked at Patricia and then Catherine in time to see her blush. Suddenly he understood her meaning. 

As dinner ended the ladies left to freshen up and the gentlemen retired to the library for a smoke and talk. James turned to Charles as soon as the doors were closed.

"Have you given any thought to what you are going to do after the war is over?" he asked.

Charles paused for a moment. "I really haven't given it any thought. You see, I live day by day at the front." He hoped James got the point.

If he did, he ignored it. "Surely it must end some day and with the Yanks now all in, it must be soon."

"Yes, Charles, I agree with James," Father now joining in. "Any ideas?"

"Not at this time,"

"Come, come, that won't do. Surely you will marry. Perhaps stand for Parliament. What do you think of that?"James, looking at their father, pressed the issue.

"Sounds good, I suppose," Charles answered without feeling.

Father stood in front of the fireplace, cigar smoke wafting upper. "Your mother and I always thought that you and Catherine were so right for each other. Just imagine our surprise when William asked for her hand."

"Yes, Father, I can imagine." Charles walked to the window and looked out at the darkness. "So this is how it will be," he thought. "A life all planned out." He needed to say something, to put a stop to it right now. He turned and faced them.

A sudden knock and the doors opened allowing the ladies to enter. The entire mood of the room brightened. Catherine made her way to Charles' side. Alice moved towards the piano in the corner.

"I hope you men were not discussing the silly war. Time to lighten the mood," Mother said. "Alice, play us a song."

Yes, Mama, but only if Charles accompanies me,"

"Oh please, Charles, sing for us," his sister Mary asked. "It has been so long. Please."

Charles walked over to the piano. "Alright, only one song." He sat next to Alice. "How about 'Mademoiselle from Armentieres'?"

"Charles!" Mother scolded.

"Alright then." He began to sing, "I'm Enry the eighth, I am. Enry the eighth."

Alice hit him on the shoulder. "Be serious or I shan't play." By now everyone was laughing.

Charles held up his hands. He whispered in Alice's ear and she smiled. She started to play and they sang together.

"Sometimes when I feel bad and things look blue, I wish I a girl I had...say one like you. Someone within my heart to build a throne, Someone who never part, to call my own."

Their two voices sang as one as the music filled the room. Its sweet sound filtered through the house and the servants stopped their work to listen. Even Buxton found it in his heart not to say anything. As the song reached the chorus, those in the Library joined in.

"If you were the only girl in the world, and I were the only boy, Nothing else would matter in the world today, We would go on loving in the same old way." 

As he sang he looked over at Catherine. She was sitting there, looking so beautiful. Her sparkling blue eyes had filled with tears and she wiped one away with her gloved hand.

Alice and Charles finished and hugged each other. "There. I said I'll do only one." He stood up.

Alice grabbed his hand. "You must do one more."

"Then it must be your choice."

All right. How about 'Keep the Home Fires Burning'? Let's all sing it."

Everyone moved around the piano. Alice began to play and all sang along.

"They were summoned from the hillside, they were called in from the glen, and the country found them ready at this stirring call for men."

Downstairs Mrs. William saw Buxton standing, listening."Listen to them," she said. "The old house hasn't sounded like this for a long time. It does everyone good to hear it." She squeezed his hand and to her surprise he squeezed it back.

As the song ended, everyone slowly said their good nights. Catherine stood next Charles and asked if they could go somewhere to talk, in private. The two exited out to the veranda, watched by his parents. His Lordship and Lady smiled hopefully as they climbed the stairs.

The night was unseasonably warm but they could smell that fall was in the air. They reached the railing, Charles stopping to sit, Catherine standing near. He looked over at her. 

Catherine was perfect on every way. Her blonde hair complimented her blue sparkling eyes. Her smile lit up the room when she entered it. Her grace and form spoke of eloquence. The light from the house show the silhouette of her figure. 

He was such a fool. If he had only spoken up, she could have been his. But he didn't love her even though he had some feelings towards her.

"So you must leave tomorrow?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," he replied.

"There is never enough time, is there?"

"For what, Catherine?"

"For us." She walked away.

Charles rose and followed her. "I don't understand. What are you saying?"

"I never loved him, you know," she said, lifting her head.

Charles put his hands on her shoulders and turned him around. "Then why did you marry him?"

"Because I was young and foolish, because he said things a girl wants to hear. Things I wanted to hear from you."

"But I could never sound like him. I'm not William." There was confusion in his voice .

"I know that. I wanted both of you to fight over me. I wanted to make you jealous. Don't you hear what I'm trying to say? I was wrong, so terribly wrong. I have always loved you." With that she slumped onto the railing, burying her face in her hands and sobbed.

Charles rushed to her and put his arms around her, holding her, comforting her. He lifted her chin and wiped away a tear. An overwhelming desire swept over him. He could feel her warm body beneath the material of her dress. He could imagine the softness of her skin. He kissed her.

Standing in the Library, helping tidy up from the night's activity, was Kathleen. She had witnessed the whole scene.



Love in the Time of War Ch. 05



"Well, James, I think the evening went very well," Lady Berwick said to her husband as she climbed into bed. "Did you see Charles and Catherine together? Don't they go well together?"

"Yes, they do but we thought that they always went well together," he said settling in on his side.

"Yes we did," Elizabeth said. "I've always wondered what happened between them."

"We'll never know." He turned to her. "I have to tell you something very important, Lizzy. It can't wait."

"What is it, James? You haven't called me Lizzy in such a long time."

"I'm afraid I have misjudged our son."

"James?"

"No. Charles. There is much more to him that I thought. He may more deserving to be my heir than James. He has shown to be strong and he seems to understand what it all means. The responsibility, the meaning, the burden that goes with a title. And that leaves me to fear the worst."

Lizzy sat upright in the bed. "What can you mean? Fear the worst?"

Lord Berwick got out of bed and began to pace. "William joined because he felt it was his duty. He was unsuited for his rank but he took it because he had to. He shouldn't have gone."

"I don't understand. What is this about?"

"William was killed because he didn't know what he was doing and like so many thousands of others, he died."

"Why are you bringing this up now? He's been gone for almost 2 years now. Why now?" She began to wring her hands. "Why are you upsetting me?"

"Because of Charles." He stopped pacing and faced her. "I don't mean to upset you but we must face facts. Charles joined because it was the right thing, not because he had to. He is a natural leader. You heard the story James told us. He'll put himself in danger because it is the right thing to do. He doesn't think if it is the right thing, he does the right thing, regards of the cost. Look at James. There is calculation in his every move. William was the same way. "

"And you think that we should expect the worse?" 

"More than anything, my dear."

Lizzy was now the strong one and she patted the bed. "Come back to bed. Between the two of us, we'll get through this together."

Deep down inside they knew that this war was slowly destroying their family and their life.

Charles walked Catherine to the foot of the stairs. There he said good night and watched her ascend the stairs. She was so beautiful. He then headed outside to think. Yesterday his life was unburdened with difficult issues. He lived from moment to moment, day to day. He came home and found Kathleen here. Then tonight he was reunited with Catherine and she confessed her love to him. He believed he truly loved Kathleen but he also understood what Patricia said at dinner about needing a male heir. His family would never accept him marrying Kathleen; a son from that marriage wouldn't be considered a suitable heir. He promised Kathleen he would talk to her before he left. He headed for her room.

He went up the backstairs to the servants' sleeping quarters. He knew because of the reduced staff Kathleen would have her own room. He knew which door to knock on.

"Kathleen," he whispered.

"Go away" came the answer.

"Please, let me in," he begged.

The door opened. Kathleen stood before him in her gown, loosely tied. "Come in and be quiet."

Charles entered and she shut the door. Before he could speak, Kathleen said, "I saw you kissing Catherine. I understand. She is a beautiful woman and you were planned for each other. You and I, it would never work. Your family would never allow it. So leave now. I don't want to cause a scandal." 

"I don't care about any scandal."

"But I do," Kathleen retorted. "It would ruin any chance of happiness for us, even for Catherine, your family."

Charles turned and began to pace. Kathleen sat on the bed, waiting for him to speak. He stopped in front of her and sank to his knees."I never said I loved her. It is you I love."

"Be sensible," she said cupping his face in her hands. "It can never work. Catherine and you live in the same world. You and I are worlds apart. I know you love me." She took one of his hands and placed it on her heart. "I will always have you here."

He stood up and kissed her, a warm, passionate, loving kiss.

Kathleen reached down to the hem of her gown. Grabbing it, she pulled it over head and stood before him, naked. She lay back on the bed, inviting him to take her.

Charles sucked in his breath. She laid naked before him, offering herself to him. Her white breasts, smooth skin, the flaring of her hips were before him. But more than that she was giving him herself, without ties or limits. God, how he wanted her.

A different man wouldn't have hesitated. A different man would have taken what she offered with pleasure, without pause. Instead Charles took the bed sheet and pulled it up, covering her. She gave him a puzzled look.

"I'll not have you this way," he said quietly. "Though God knows I want to. When I have you, it will be in a proper way, as man and wife, not before. I'll not cheapen our love." He kissed her forehead. "Good night, Love."

As he walked down the hallway, he felt better. The problem had not gone away. As a matter of fact, it may have gotten worse but he felt an inner calmness in himself. A feeling he hadn't had in quite some time.

Next morning he was up early. He dressed in his uniform. He found it cleaned and pressed and he smiled as he wondered who on the staff did it. He looked in the mirror and admitted that these few days at Stanhope had added some color to his cheeks.

Breakfast was similar to yesterday but no one was up yet. He filled his plate with the offerings; knowing that tomorrow's fare would be much different. He sat down and looked around. There was so much here at Stanhope, the history, the tradition, the people. If only these walls could talk, such stories they could tell.

"Morning, Father. You are up early."

Yes, son. I was afraid you would try to slip out, save everyone's feelings." His Lordship poured himself some tea.

"Something like that."

"I won't let that happen," Father said, shaking his head. "You will be given a proper send off." 

Slowly the others gathered for breakfast. It was quieter than usual. Even James had little to say. It was as if no one wanted to anything that would break the spell.

Finally Charles spoke up. "It is getting near that time. I would like to say my good byes to the staff and then I'll be back here. So excuse me."

He made his way down to the kitchen. He knew he find almost every there. As before when he entered they stood up.

"God's sakes, be seated and finish what you are doing." He scolded them. "I've only come to say good bye and I expect to find the house in the same shape when I return."

Buxton and the other men offered their hands and the women, led by Mrs. Williams, hugged him. Only Kathleen held back. There was an awkward silence.

Mrs. Williams spoke, "Take of yourself. Come back safe." There was catch in her voice. "Kathleen, would you please come with me." 

Charles watched them go and after a few minutes, he followed. He found the two in the office.

"I'll leave the two alone. You might have something to say to each other." As Mrs. Williams spoke, she left the room and shut the door.

"So this is it?" Kathleen said.

"I'm afraid so."

"I want to give you something." She turned her back to him. When she turned back, she handed him a locket. "This was my mother's and I want you to have it."

"I can't take this!" Charles tried to give it back.

Kathleen closed his hand around it."No, take it. My mother would want you to. I want you to. Promise that you will return it to me."

"I will."

Kathleen grabbed his hands. "Promise me you will bring it back to me. Promise me, Charles Stewart!"

Charles put his arms around her and pulled her close. He kissed her hard and deep. He pushed her up against the wall, pressing his body against hers. Visions of her body raced though his mind. Her body responded to his kiss. He wanted her this very moment, here and now. He felt her move against him. She wanted him too. Breathless, they broke the kiss and Kathleen buried her face into neck. "Promise me," she murmured. "Promise me!"

He cupped her face and kissed away a tear. "I promise." He tore himself away from her, leaving her standing alone.

He hurried out to the front. Clark, the chauffeur, had the car ready. The entire family was there. His two sisters tearfully hugged and kissed him goodbye. Mother held him in her arms. "You must come back to us," she said. Father shook his hand. "Son, take care of yourself. Please." He kept his jaw clenched as he spoke.

"Where's Catherine?" Charles asked, looking around.

"Right here," she said, stepping around the group. "I would like to go with you, if it is alright with you?"

"By all means," and Charles showed her to the car.

They rode in silence on the way to the station. Neither knew what to say and small talk seemed out of place.

Catherine took his hand and held it on her lap. "This is so different than when William left. We all thought he would be back soon. No one thought..."

"Yes, no one did," Charles nodded.

"I didn't feel like this when he left."

"Like what?"

"Charles, I meant what I said last night. I didn't love William and I meant what I said at his funeral. You must come back to me." She started to cry.

He leaned over to look at her.

"No, you mustn't see me this way. I don't want your last sight of me to be me crying." She sobbed.

"Catherine, it doesn't matter." He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. They rode the final mile to the station in silence.

At the station, they walked quietly to the cars. They held hands as they faced each other. Catherine kissed him on the cheeks and then stepped back. As the train pulled away, she said under her breath, "You will come back to me."



Love in the Time of War Ch. 06



The dugout shook from an explosion and the dirt drifted down from the ceiling. Captain Stewart was jarred from his day dream by the shock. He tucked Kathleen's locket into his tunic. Both lieutenants sat bolt upright. "Damn, that was bloody close," said Lt. Smythe.

Stewart rose and grabbing his Enfield, headed for the door. "I'll check and see how close."

He stepped outside and the air was cooler compared to the stale air of the dugout. He tucked his scarf that Alice had made him into his tunic and shivered. He stamped his feet on the duck boards. Silently he thanked God that the trench was somewhat dry. He took a deep breath and headed along the trench lines. He started carrying a rifle with him about a month ago. It was against regulations but he didn't care. They needed all the fire power they could get.

He came upon two soldiers seated on the fire step. They stood and saluted as he approached. "Sergeant White and Private Jackson, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," they both replied.

"Report, Sergeant.Anything new?"

"As you can hear, sir, they have been shelling the right all day. They just started on the left about an hour ago. They have also tossed a few our way," Sgt. White said clearly.

"Anything from the listening post, Sergeant?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Who's out there?"

"Mathews and Duhon."

"Good men. Keep me updated, Sergeant. Keep your heads down. Carry on," Stewart patted the sergeant on the back as he headed down the trench.

"I'll don't like officers but I'd follow that one to bloody Hell," the Sergeant said to Jackson. 

Stewart continued down the trench. Most of the company was in their dugouts but there were a few posted on watch. The report was the same at every post. The shelling increasing off to the left and seemed to be creeping closer. The Captain turned and headed back towards his dugout. As he neared, Sgt. White stopped him and began to report on some activity in front.

Suddenly a tremendous explosion ripped the air. A violent flash and Charles felt himself being flung into the air. Then all went black. 

Lord Berwick was walking the grounds of Stanhope, enjoying the early spring air. He loved this time of year. It was the time of renewal, a time when the birds began to sing and the flowers bloomed in a riot of colors. He was accompanied by Alice, his youngest daughter, and she was telling him the latest from her fiancé in America. He worked in the British Embassy in Washington, D.C. and knew all the news. Alice had hoped for a fall wedding and was excited about it, being the last daughter to marry. His Lordship enjoyed these walks with Alice as her enthusiasm helped keep him from thinking about his youngest son.

"Isn't that Buxton headed this way?" Alice said pointing towards the house.

Buxton hurried up to his Lordship and handed him a telegram. Lord Berwick opened it. He read it slowly as the color drained from his face. He read it again.

"Buxton, does anyone else know?"

"No, your Lordship," he replied.

"Please be so kind to tell the family to gather in the Library. I'll speak to them there. You may tell the staff yourself, after I tell the family. Understand?"

"Yes, your Lordship. Right away." He turned and hurried off.

"Father, what is it?" Alice asked, taking his arm.

"Don't tell anyone. It's about Charles. Come, we must hurry."

The family gathered in the Library. James and Patricia with their two girls had come up for a few days. Catherine had been spending more time at Stanhope, having become very close to Alice. Mary was off with her husband, the naval officer. Lady Berwick arrived last.

"What is it? What is so important?" she asked.

"Please, Elizabeth, sit down. We are all here?"

"Yes, Father." 

"Very well. I just received a telegram from the Secretary and it is about Charles."

Both her Ladyship and Catherine gasped. James helped his mother to a chair.

"The good news is he is alive but badly wounded. It doesn't say how badly."

James spoke up. "I'll make some phone calls. I know some people who can help." He left the room.

The room was a buzz. Each one tried to comfort each other. Lord Berwick turned to Buxton. "You may tell the staff and then have McHale come up here to see to her Ladyship."

"Yes, your Lordship. May I?" he asked for the telegram.

Buxton called the staff together in the kitchen. After everyone gathered, he cleared his voice and began "We just received some bad news. Mr. Charles has been wounded and we don't know how badly."

As he finished there was a crash and a deep sob. They turned to see Kathleen standing there, her hands to her face and a soup tureen shattered at her feet. She began to sway and Montgomery rushed to her side. He got her seated and Mrs. Williams took her hand. "It will be alright, child." 

Buxton took charge. "McHale, her Ladyship needs you in the Library. Montgomery, please see to his Lordship. Eliza, Annie, go and see if the other ladies need you. Mrs. Williams, will you be handling this?"

"Yes, we'll be fine." But as she looked at Kathleen, she wasn't so sure.

He seemed to be surrounded by darkness. A vast emptiness. He tried to speak but he couldn't hear himself. If he remained still, he could feel a light touch and a soothing sound. It seemed to calm him.

"Doctor," the young nurse quietly motion for him to come over. "He seems to be coming around." She placed her hand on the captain's arm. "There, it is alright."

"Stay with him, nurse, and don't let him thrash around. He'll be confused when he fully awakes. Keep him calm."

The nurse continued to talk quietly to Charles and it had the required affect. Charles regained consciousness but with the realization that it was still dark. "I'm blind!" he suddenly thought. "Oh dear God!" He began to panic.

The young nurse tried to calm him but her words and voice no longer could. "Doctor, I need you!"

The doctor hurried over. "Now, now, Captain Stewart. What is all this fuss? It won't do."

Charles groped towards the sound. "My eyes, I can't see!"

"Calm yourself. It is the bandages. Your eyes were full of dirt and the flash of the explosion may have injured them. It is only a precaution. Let's take them off and look."

Slowly the doctor removed the bandages. "Please keep your eyes shut until I tell you to open them. Understand?"

Charles nodded.

The doctor motioned for the nurse to sit on the bed. He wanted the Captain to see something nice instead of the old doctor when he opened his eyes.

"Now, Captain, open your right eye. Slowly."

Charles did as he was told, slowly opening his right eye. The light of the room was almost too much but slowly his eye adjusted. There on the bed he could see the nurse. He smiled. "Why, hello there."

She smiled back.

"Very good, Captain. Now try the left one."

Charles did as he was told. Slowly he opened his eye, allowing for the light. As it was totally opened, it was not the same. It seemed as if a heavy gauze was across it. He could make out shadows but no features. The pretty nurse was just a blur. He blinked but it didn't clear. He explained what he saw or did not see to the doctor.

"I was afraid of that. Please place your hand against your right ear. Listen to me and tell me what you hear."

Charles did and as he listened, it sounded as if had cotton in his left ear. Again he explained the situation to the doctor.

"Captain," explained the doctor, "The severe explosion has affected both your left eye and left ear. I'm not sure if the effect is permanent or not. It could be just a severe shock. I don't know. You may have noticed that your left arm is in a cast."

For the first time, Charles looked at his arm.

The doctor continued, "Your elbow was badly broken. We saved your arm but it will have limited mobility. You won't be able to straighten it. I don't believe that it will retain all its strength."

"Doctor, when can I leave here?"

"Don't be in such a hurry, Captain. We have some very pretty nurses here to help you," the doctor replied, laughing.

Charles smiled and looked at the nurse, now standing beside his bed. "I realize that but I really like to be getting back."

"About 1 or 2 weeks and then we will see how you are doing. As to getting back, Captain, for you the war is over. You are going home."

Charles sunk back into his pillow. He let the doctor's words slowly sink in. He was going home.

James was able to pull enough strings to find out what exactly happened to his brother. Rather than call, he was driven to Stanhope. He met with the family in the library. Patricia didn't come with him. She stayed with the children but he was so kind to pick up Catherine from her home and bring her along.

He began, "It seems the Huns were firing shells into our lines just before their big push. Charles left the safety of his dugout to see how his men were faring, seeing if they were alright. He checked the length of his lines and was returning to the dugout. He was stopped by one of men before reaching it. A shell scored a direct hit on the dugout, killing everyone inside. The explosion was about 10 yards from where he was standing. The soldier who stopped Charles also died but it seems this poor man shielded Charles from most of the blast. He was injured but is in one piece. He is in hospital in Brighton. From what I heard, he will be home in one to two weeks."

Alice stood up, "We must go see him."

Father stepped forward and held up his hand. "No, dear daughter, you'll not go. Nor anyone else. James and I will see if we can visit. I think you may understand why."

"Yes, Father."

"That's settled. This is the best news we have had in weeks. God knows, we deserved it." With that, they rose and left the room. All that is except Catherine, who sat still in her chair, hands in her lap. Alice noticed and returned to her side. Kneeling, she said, "It is good news. Cheer up!" 

Catherine looked at Alice. There tears in her eyes. "All of this has been too much," she sobbed. "He promised he would return to me. He promised."

Alice hugged her. "He has, dear Catherine, he has."

Downstairs, alone, Kathleen wept upon hearing the news.



Love in the Time of War Ch. 07



It was time for Captain Stewart to go. Although not fully recovered, the doctors felt that being home would help speed it along. He had come a long way from when he first arrived. He had gained back most of his strength and he looked fit in his new uniform. Most of the swelling and bruising on his face and body had disappeared. There were some scars on the left side of his face but they were not disfiguring. One of the nurse actually joked that it made him look German, a dueling scar, and mysterious. Each day he went on walks with one of the nurses. Each day the walks got longer as he got stronger. By his stay's end, the nurses would fight over who got the chance to go with him. He still wasn't 100%. He got headaches, some very severe, and if he turned quickly, he got dizzy. He also experienced some memory loss but it was slowly coming back. What concerned him were the nightmares. It was a different one every night and every night, he woke, drenched in sweat and in a panic.

Father and James had visited on numerous occasions. They always brought good news with them and Charles was able to keep up with the latest from Stanhope. They also were able to keep those at Stanhope updated about him. Patricia had come with James once. It was good she did because she was expecting the worse. When she did see him, she was surprised to see how well he looked. She passed the news on to the ladies which carried more weight with them than Father's words did.

Father arrived right on time. Clark had the car shining, looking bright and new. Charles only had one small bag as his worldly possessions he had at the front were all destroyed in the blast. He thanked the doctors and the nurses. To one nurse, Charles took her aside. "Miss Ames, I want to thank you personally. It was you who was there when I returned to this world and it was you I first saw when I found I could see. Thank you for being such a lovely vision. If you ever need anything, you contact me. Words can not describe how grateful I am."

Father and Charles rode towards Stanhope. Even though they got an early start, they would not to be home until dark. Father had changed or at least to Charles he had. He seemed more eager to talk, more open. What Charles didn't know was how much the news of his wounding took from his father. The blow almost was the death of him.

Father updated him on the latest war news. The day after his wounding, the Germans launched a massive offensive aimed on driving the BEF into the sea. A second offensive came close to capturing Paris before the Americans finally put troops into the fight. They stopped the Huns at some place called Chateau Thierry. It seemed the tide was beginning to turn in the Allies' favor. Listening to his father made Charles long to return to the front, to be there at the finish. To have the pleasure to be in on the kill.

Charles fell asleep as the ride continued. As he slept, he dreamt. He was at the bottom of a trench but he couldn't get up. No matter how he tried, it felt like an immense weight was on him. He struggled but he couldn't move it. He called out for help but no one wanted to help him.

His Lordship gently grabbed hold of Charles' arm. "Dear God," he thought, "What did my poor boy go through over there?" He woke him as they stopped for lunch. It was a small inn but passable. Clark knew about it and vouched for the meal. The owners were very nice, about Father's age. They were honored to have a Lord and his son for a meal. Clark had told them who they were feeding. They let the two of them eat in quiet and as the two men made to pay, the couple refused to accept any money. Father said it was unheard of but they insisted. Plus they were not doing it because of his Lordship. No, they were doing it because they lost their only son last month and they made a promise that any soldier who ate there would not pay for his meal. It was because of Captain Stewart. As they left, his Lordship gave Clark the money for his tab only and told him to make sure the people got it.

It was dusk as they reached Stanhope. Clark pulled the car to a stop. His Lordship said, "Are you alright, son?"

"Yes, Father."

The two men walked slowly into the main hall. There stood the entire family and staff of Stanhope. No one spoke for a moment. Buxton stepped forward. "Welcome home, sir!"

"Thank you, Buxton."

After this initial greeting, for the first time in the long history of Stanhope, rank and decorum was lost. Everyone was talking and welcoming Charles home. Of course Alice was the first to put her arms around him. James' two daughters each hugged a leg. There wasn't a dry eye in the room, man or woman. Through all the commotion and noise, three women stood back. Charles moved slowly towards one of them.

In the last month, Elizabeth Stewart, Lady Berwick, had aged noticeably. Now she seemed almost frailer than when he was home last. Seated in a chair, with tears flowing, she waited. Charles stood before her. "Mother, I have returned to you." He bent down and kissed her cheek.

"Yes, my boy, you have returned. My prayers have been answered."

Standing next to the chair, waiting patiently was Catherine. She looked radiant, dressed in a white dress trimmed in blue satin, and her smile lit up her face, despite the tears. Charles took her hands. "Catherine, I promised I'd return to you. A little worse for wear but I have returned, if you want me."

"Oh, Charles, I want you!" and with that the two embraced and kissed, in front of everyone. They ended the kiss but held the embrace. It was then, looking over Catherine's shoulder, that he noticed her. Slipping off into the shadows was Kathleen.

"All right," Mrs. Williams said clapping her hands. "Back to work. We have a meal to serve." As the staff scurried off, she turned to Charles. "It is so good to have you home, sir." With that she gave him a hug and then she hustled off to the kitchen.

The atmosphere that started in the hall continued into the dining room. Everyone enjoyed themselves and the cook had outdone herself on the meal. Catherine sat to the right of Charles and ate very little of what was served.

Concerned, Charles whispered to her, "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she whispered back. "Never happier." With that she did something out of character for her. She placed her hand on Charles' thigh. She left it there for only a brief moment before removing it but the mere action spoke volumes.

"Charles," Mother said. "Are you all right? You haven't said a word. Is Catherine taking up all your time?"

"Yes, Mother, she is," he answered causing Catherine to blush.

"Then that is fine," Mother replied. The table grew quiet and then everyone laugh, again causing Catherine to blush.

As dinner ended, the ladies and men began to go the separate ways before rejoining in the Drawing Room. Charles announced to everyone before they left. "Mother, Father, I must excuse myself as this has been a very long day for me and I'm quite tired. I believe I shall go upstairs. Good night all."

As Charles settled into his bed, he looked around his room. It had been his room for most of his life. On his wall was one of his kites and his shelves were still cluttered with reminders of his boyhood. For the first time in his adult life, he cried, completely overwhelmed by his emotions. 

"Let's go, little brother," Alice said slipping her arm in his. "The doctor said that brisk walks are the best medicine and the weather is fine. No excuses." With that they were off.

"Where are we going, dear Alice?" Charles asked.

"To the village. I have to mail a letter."

"No doubt to that fiancé of ours, in America."

"Yes, it is, not that it's any business of yours!" Both laughed.

Charles loved Alice. Her bright and cheery way, her positive outlook on life, she could find the good in any situation. Her level headedness was a perfect foil to his moodiness. He trusted her completely with his inner most thoughts. She was his rock more than anyone in the family. He knew any walk with her would be good medicine.

"So brother, have you made up your mind?" she asked as they neared the village.

"About what?" Charles was puzzled at the question. 

"Which one will it be, Catherine or Kathleen?" True to form, Alice came right to the point.

Charles tried to avoid answering. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Alice stopped walking. "Charles, you can be so trying. You can't put this off. It isn't fair to either of them. You must choose. You must marry one of them."

"Why?" he said softly.

"Because you must. There are some things in life that you must do and one of them is to marry. And to produce children." Alice said directly into his face, making sure he understood.

"How can I marry Kathleen? It would cause such problems. Father would never allow it."

"Charles, the world, our world is changing. The rules are different."

"Not that different."

"So if you believe that then your decision is made easier, is it not?"

"I suppose so."

"You could take a mistress."

"Alice!" he exclaimed, "Sometimes you can go too far."

"Why? Other men do."

"I will not do that. That is not the answer."

They continued walking on and covered a small distance without talking. Alice broke the silence. "They both love you so it is up to you. I will speak no more of it."

They walked through the village stopping at various shops and the post office. Many of the people had heard of his wounding and came up to him with kind words. Others merely nodded a greeting, feeling it wasn't their place to do more. There were also a number of lads from the village that had returned home carrying reminders of their time at the front. Some missing arms or legs, they and Charles just made eye contact to know the bond.

Alice was true to word and during the entire walk home the conversation was about her wedding and the life she planned. She hoped she would travel the world as the wife of a foreign diplomat. She wanted to visit places she only had read about. And she wanted children, plenty of children, to love and to spoil. Children to bring to Stanhope to romp in the grass and climb the trees like Charles and she had done as children. Charles laughed at her excitement and when she thought he was laughing at her, he grabbed her with his one good arm. "My dear sister Alice, I would never laugh at you. I laughed because your joy is infectious!"

"Oh, Charles, I am so happy you are home!"

Alice entered the house through the front door while Charles walked around the side. He knew she was right but that didn't make it any easier. He had to choose. No matter his choice, it would be the wrong one, but he must make one. He entered the kitchen and found Kathleen seated, alone, sipping tea. When she saw him, she quickly set her tea down and rushed to him.

"Thank God, you are safe!" they embraced there, by the table.

"Kathleen, I came to return this," and he handed her the locket. "It did its duty. It brought me home."

Kathleen took back the locket. "Does this mean what I think it does?"

"We need to talk." He offered his hand. "Let's go outside."

The two walked the grounds. They sat on a bench under a great oak.

"Kathleen," Charles began.

She placed a finger to his lips. "Don't say anything. I know what you going to say." She stood up and walked away a few steps."You can't marry me."

"What?" he answered. His lack of hearing annoyed him.

She turned around and looked at him. Here was the man she loved, returned from war, not quite the man who left. The man who she never should have fallen in love with because their worlds were so different. She would do anything to change how she felt but that was impossible.

She rushed to him and fell to her knees in front of him. "Oh Charles, I do love you so," she exclaimed.

He caressed her hair. "I love you too, Kathleen, and I want to marry you."

She looked up at him. "But you can't. You would be giving away too much."

"I don't care," he answered.

"Yes, you do. All your life you have done the right thing no matter what the personal price. You can't change who you are. You know marrying me would hurt so many others."

Charles stood up. "What do I care of others? It is you I care for, our happiness."

"No, Charles, it will never be. We could never be totally happy. It will destroy your family. Your father will never agree and then what? No, I will not be that person." Tears filled her eyes. Charles lifted her up.

"Are you saying you don't want to marry me?"

"No, I'm saying I can't marry you, my love. Please understand." 

"Well then, but I will not accept it as your final answer," Charles said softly. "Come, dry your tears. We must return before you are missed." They walked in silence back to the house. Before they parted, Charles hugged and kissed her passionately.

As he entered the house, he met James coming down the stairs. "There you are. Father and I have looked everywhere for you. We need to talk."

"Must we right now?" Charles said with resignation. "I'm a little tired."

"Yes," James insisted, taking Charles by the arm. "I understand you are tired but it won't take long and it is important." He led him to the library. There they found his Lordship thumbing through an old book.

"So good of you to join us, Charles."

"What is this about, Father," Charles asked.

"Please sit down. You look tired. I'll get right to it. It's about your future." 

Charles sighed. "Must we?"

"Yes, I'm afraid we must."

James spoke up. "Yes, it is about your future...and Stanhope's too."

Charles made to get up. "Hear us out, Charles. It's important."

Charles slump down in his seat. James handed him a drink.

"I'll be quite blunt," James said."I don't want Stanhope. Patricia and I are quite happy in our home in Mayfair."

Father added, "So we want you to live here with us and take over when I pass on. To keep Stanhope in the direct family, a male, instead going to Mary and her husband."

"Does Mary know this?"

"It is not her concern."

"Very well. Was this that important?"

"Wait. There is more." James walked to the window and put his drink down. "It seems that Patricia is unable to have any more children. You know what that means? No male heirs."

"Which means, Charles," Father interjected, "you have to chose a wife for yourself. Do you have any ideas?" 

Charles jumped to feet. "Just a bloody minute!" He felt dizzy and put his hand on the chair to steady himself. Father grabbed him. "Leave me alone. I'm alright!" he said pulling his arm away. He walked to the other side of the room. He turned and looked at James and then his father.

"You want me to marry, preferably a suitable woman. Then produce sons to keep the line going? The 'An heir and a spare' idea. That's all. James gets the title while I'm the good son. Oh, I'll have Stanhope and the correct wife for our station. Bloody Hell! You two have my life all worked out. Thank very much but I'll pick my own wife. Live where I want to live. Excuse me!" With that he stormed out and went up the stairs to his room. 

He sat on the edge of his bed. He couldn't remember being this angry. Damn them! His bad eye throbbed with a dull ache and his head ached terribly. He felt like he was going to be sick. He fell back on the bed and passed out.



Love in the Time of War Ch. 08



The shells came closer, working their way across the desolated landscape. It was obvious that the Huns were following the explosions close behind. They were headed straight at them. Captain Stewart crouched against the trench wall and waited.

"Captain, what are your orders," Sgt. White yelled to him. The Captain looked past the sergeant to the faces of the young men behind him.

"We stay here, Sergeant. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," the sergeant replied.

The Captain grabbed the sergeant's arm. "We are staying because it is the right thing to do. The right thing to do!"

Suddenly the shells were all around them. The men pressed themselves against the wall. The barrage passed over them quickly. The Boche followed it into the trench. A large German grabbed the Captain by the tunic and raised a trench knife over his head. The Captain pulled out his revolver and shoving it into the Hun's face, pulled the trigger. The man's face exploded into a crimson shower.

Alice shook his shoulders. "Charles, wake up. You're dreaming."

Charles tried to break free. "Kill them! Kill them all!"

Buxton pressed his hands on Charles' shoulder as he continued to struggle.

Alice repeated, "Charles, wake up!"

Charles opened his eyes. He had the look of a confused animal. He looked around in panic. It took him a few second to collect himself.

"I'm alright. Please, I'm alright."

"Are you sure?" Alice asked gently.

"Yes,yes, I'm fine. You can let go now"

Buxton stood up straight. He looked over at Alice. 

"Buxton, you made go. Thank you. And Buxton, not a word."

"Will you be dressing for dinner, sir?"

"Yes."

Alice looked at Charles then Buxton. "Remember, Buxton. Not a word."

"Yes, milady."

As Buxton left the room, Alice turned to Charles. She sat on the bed next to him. "Are you sure you're alright. Do you have these dreams often?"

"No, not often," he lied.

"You can't lie to me. How long have you been having these episodes?"

"Let me get dressed for dinner.' He showed her the door.

Charles looked in the mirror as he splashed water on his face. Each dream was different than the other but usually the dream found him lost in the dark, unable to find the light or unable to move. This one was real and he could remember all of it, especially the line about doing the right thing. It didn't make it clear what was the right thing. What frightened him was the violence. He had some violent dreams but not like this one.

Dinner was as entertaining and relaxing as usual. One of Father's rules was that conversation at dinner should remain polite and civil. Dinner was not the place for heated discussions. James had lots of information concerning the war. For the first time in almost four years, there was talk of the war coming to an end. Alice was able to share some news about President Wilson's plan for peace she learned from her fiancé. James also announced that he and Patricia were returning back to London tomorrow morning. The rest of meal contained light banter among them all.

Every one gathered in the Drawing Room to play Charades. As the game continued, the mood became lighter and lighter until all including Charles were laughing. He glanced over at Catherine and he saw a beautiful sight. He saw the sparkle in her blue eyes as she laughed and it brought back memories of the two of them before the war. He remembered the two of them under the old oak tree and it was there he first kissed her. It was then he knew that he could no longer put off a decision.

As the game ended, Charles approached Catherine and asked her to accompany him for a walk. She happily agreed and the two walked out the French doors on to the veranda. The night was warm and the scent of flowers was in the air.

"It is a beautiful evening, isn't it?" Catherine sighed. "I love spring at Stanhope."

"Yes, it is. Catherine, we need to talk," Charles said, not looking at her. He was afraid if he did he wouldn't be able to say what was needed to be said.

She moved closer to him. She had an idea of what was on his mind and it made her nervous. She waited quietly, waiting for him to start.

The scent of her light perfume was a distraction to him but he remained determined to have his say. "It seems that for the longest time it was assumed that you and I were to marry. Since we were young, that was the conclusion," he began.

"Charles, don't..." Catherine interrupted.

"Please, let me finish. Instead you married William and I did nothing to stop it. I let it happen."

"What could you have done," Catherine said turning to him. "Cause a family scandal?"

"I should have said something. Instead I let it happen. How can you love a man who would just let you walk away?"

"How you must hate me to think me that shallow!" Catherine turned her back and walked a few steps away.

Charles rushed to her and placed his hands on her waist. He could feel her suppleness through the materials. "Hate you? I can never hate you." As he stood close, he could smell the scent of her hair and feel the warmth of her body. He turned her and they faced each other.

"Catherine, look at me. I'm not the same man who went off to war and you made promise to return. I can't see clearly. I'm almost deaf. I carry my arm like the bloody Kaiser. I have scars everyone can see."

"Can't you understand? I don't care," Catherine pulled him close.

"I do. You are the most beautiful woman I ever have laid eyes on. You deserve more than someone like me." With that, he pushed her away.

"Charles, sometimes all scars are not visible," she said with resignation.

"What do you mean?" 

"Oh Charles. I treated love as a game, a silly juvenile game. I wanted you and your brother to fight over me, to build my ego. Instead I married a man I did not love. I let him into my bed and to use me. It is me that doesn't deserve someone like you. Can you forgive me?"

"There is nothing to forgive but I'll not saddle you with another bad marriage."

Catherine rushed to him. Throwing her arms around him, she put her head to his chest. "I have enough love for the two of us. I know you haven't asked me but when you do you should know my answer will be yes." She held him tight. Letting go, she walked back into the house, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Charles could not remember how long he walked the grounds that night but it was late when he re-enter Stanhope. He spent the time thinking. Knowing he must end the confusion, he had to make a decision. On one hand was Kathleen. He believed he truly loved her but marriage raised many dilemmas. Two people would be happy but a large number would be hurt. Would society ever accept her as his wife? And then there was Catherine. He was confused about his feelings about her. He did not feel the love for her he felt for Kathleen but there were some feelings. If he married her, many people would rejoice but one. Love versus duty, personal feelings versus family. He must do the right thing.

Charles came down to breakfast early. Knowing that James and family would be off, he wanted to make sure he missed no one. When he was sure everyone was in the room, he knew it was time.

"Everyone," he said clearing his throat and making sure he had everyone's attention, "I have an announcement to make."



Love in the Time of War Ch. 09



"Mother, Father, everyone, please, may I have your attention," Charles said, making sure they were listening. "I have an announcement."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and grew quiet.

"Catherine, if I may," he continued, motioning her to his side. "I know this is highly unusual but I want the family to be here."

"What is it, Charles?" Alice asked impatiently.

Charles turned to Catherine and holding both her hands asked, "Catherine, will you marry me?"

The entire room collectively held its breath.

Catherine looked him directly in the face and smiled. "You know already know my answer, Of course, I will."

For a brief moment, no one spoke and of course, it was Alice who broke the spell. She rushed to Catherine and hugged her. "How wonderful!" she exclaimed.

Other gathered around the couple to tender their congratulations. Mother cried happy tears and Father just beamed. James shook his brother's hand and slapped him on the back. "Well done!"

The ladies were all excited and said that it must be a May wedding. They were rapidly making plans when Charles put a damper on it. "You know, we must discuss this with Catherine's parents. What if they object?"

Mother quickly answered. "They wouldn't dare! They are some of our oldest and dearest friends." She turned to Catherine. "When do you plan on going to visit them, my dear?"

"Within a few days, my Lady but I don't see it being a problem." She smiled at Charles.

While at this excitement was going on, Buxton had entered the room and was having a long conversation with his Lordship. Buxton left quickly and his Lordship walked over to the family. "I'm afraid we may have a problem." Everyone looked at him quizzically. "No, not with Charles and Catherine. It seems that influenza has reached Stanhope. At least four of the staff is down and others may follow. I had Buxton ring for the doctor."

"What can we do?" Mother asked.

"Nothing until the doctor comes." 

While waiting the doctor to arrive, James and Patricia took the girls and left as planned. They reasoned they be just as safe or safer if they left Stanhope and returned to London. They made their good byes and hurried off, leaving those behind to wait, wonder and worry.

Four of the maids and two of men including McTavish were ill. The doctor examined them and announced that it was indeed the flu. When asked what precautions they should take, his answer wasn't encouraging. "None, I'm afraid. Put them to bed and get them to drink plenty of clear liquids. I'm sorry but that is it. Your Lordship, Charles, May I see you?" 

The doctor took the gentlemen aside. "I'm afraid you can expect about half to two thirds of the people here at Stanhope to come down with this and very quickly."

"That many!" Lord Berwick said in a loud whisper.

"Yes, your Lordship, if this runs true to form. And some may die."

His Lordship looked at Charles and then back to the doctor. "Very well. I'm sure you will do your best and all of here will do our best to help."

"I have other patients in village I must see to," the doctor said heading towards the door. "I will return a soon as I can."

The doctor was right in his prediction. Within twenty-four hours a large number of the family and staff were sick and in bed. Of the staff, only Mrs. Williams, Kathleen, her ladyship's lady McHale, his lordship's man, Montgomery, and the cook, Mrs. Hodge were untouched. The family was hit very hard. Only Charles remained healthy. 

Mother was the first, taking ill around noon that first day. Father followed by dinner time. Alice and Catherine were struck down around the same time early the next day. Mary was not at home and was spending time with her husband's parents. As far as anyone knew, she was fine. James had left with his family that morning and so far all were well.

Charles and Mrs. Williams met to work out how they were going to run things. To Mrs. Williams' surprise and relief, Charles informed her that all social barriers were down, as far as he was concerned. He would take all his meals in the kitchen with the staff and work right alongside them in trying to get through this.

"Oh, sir, you need not do that," she said.

"Yes, I do," he replied. "I need to keep myself busy. You understand?"

So Charles pitched as best he could. Kathleen and he worked side by side. She liked this idea as she was the one in charge and he was the newcomer. Keeping themselves busy kept their worries down but also avoided what they knew they must. That was to talk about what was decided and how to handle it. There just wasn't enough time.

Slowly those who were ill began to recover. The maids who were the first taken sick were out of danger but as weak as lambs. The doctor visited regularly and had high hope for most of his patients.

"Sir, I feel very confident that your mother and father will recover shortly," he said.

Charles noticed a note of hesitancy in his voice. "And Alice and Catherine?"

The doctor paused and then spoke softly and clearly. "I don't know. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours are critical. If their fever would only break!"

Charles was stunned by the news. He took in a deep breath. "Is there anything I, we can do?"

"Just hope and pray, sir."

He wandered through the house finally reaching the library. He poured himself a strong drink. Sitting in one of the chairs, he held his head in his hands. "Dear God," he began to think. "How can this be? Both of them?" The thought of losing either of them was too much. Alice, his rock, his best friend, the one that knew him best and Catherine. Poor sweet beautiful Catherine, the one he promised to spend the rest of his life with. He felt he was being overwhelmed.

"Sir." It was Montgomery. "Sir, there is a phone call for you."

"Thank you, Montgomery."

Montgomery led him to the phone. It was Patricia, James' wife.

"Charles," she began. "It's James. He is very sick."

Charles dreaded to ask how sick but from her tone and the fact she didn't ask about the others, he knew it was not good. He had to ask.

"The doctors are very worried and so am I." she replied. "They don't sound hopeful. Oh, Charles, what I am to do?"

"I'm sure they are mistaken. It will be alright. Don't worry. We will be there if you need us." He replied, trying to sound convincing.

"I know that," Charles could hear her voice breaking. "I'm scared."

"There, there Patricia. It will be fine. How are the girls? And you?" He hoped changing the focus would help.

"They are fine. They haven't gotten sick, yet. Either have I," She seemed a little calmer.

"I will call you and check up on you. Remember it will work out." He hung up not knowing what he could do.

"Damn," he said under his breath, "What next?"

He headed for the kitchen where he could smell the sweet aroma of fresh bread. Hodges had been doing wonders through all this. Cooking meals for the well and light fare for those recovering, Charles was duly impressed.

"Hodges, you're a saint," he said sitting at the table. The rest of the staff came in sat down. Charles refused to sit in Buxton's seat, saying it wasn't his place. The meal was a beef stew, hot and comforting. Along with the fresh bread, it was simply marvelous. Each night the staff seemed more relaxed with Charles at the table so the conversation became easier. Tonight Annie and McTavish had returned to their rightful place.

"May I ask, sir?" McTavish asked with his Scottish burr. "How are the others?"

"His Lordship and Lady are doing well. They seem to be out of danger. Correct, McHale? Montgomery?"

They both nodded.

"And the ladies?" Annie quickly asked.

Charles paused and put down his napkin. "We'll know more in twenty-four hours."

Kathleen, who was sitting next to him, slowly reached over and held his hand. There were no more questions.

After dinner, Charles went upstairs to check on his parents. Both were feeling much better. Although tired and looking drained, his father was raring to get out of bed. Charles reminded him of the doctor's orders and convinced him to stay in bed until tomorrow. Mother seemed happy to remaining in bed and grow stronger. Charles filled them both in on how everyone was faring. He lied when it came to Alice and Catherine. He felt it was one less worry. He didn't mention James at all. He spent near two hours talking and taking care of his parents. He had given McHale and Montgomery a break and they both returned after a long deserved rest. He left them and headed back to the kitchen. He knew he was exhausted but he also knew sleep would not come.

Charles poured himself some hot tea and sat down at the table. He thought to himself, "Will this nightmare never end?" He was deep in his thoughts when Kathleen entered and sat next to him. She startled him.

"Kathleen!" 

She put her hand on his arm. "You look so tired, Charles. Here come with me." With that she took him by the hand and took him into a small room off the kitchen.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"It is the room where the staff can have a little privacy when a friend visits. Here, sit on the couch."

They sat together on the small couch. Charles looked straight ahead. "I'm sorry, Kathleen, on how this all turned out. I wanted to tell you but with all this, there never seemed to be any time."

"It's all right. I knew what your decision was before you did. I knew you would choose Catherine. You had to."

"You must think me so weak," he answered.

"No, never. I think you are strong, strong in your sense of right and wrong, your duty. That is why I still love you and always will."

Charles turned and looked at her. "Let's leave this place, you and I. We can go to America and marry. We would be just plain Mr. and Mrs. Charles Stewart."

"Think about what you are saying, Charles. As much as I would want to, you know you couldn't do it. You belong here, at Stanhope Manor. It is your duty, your responsibility."

"Responsibility be damned."

"Charles, you know I am right, no matter the cost," Kathleen said softly as she looked into his eyes.

"If I am so strong then why do I feel I am losing my mind? Alice and Catherine may be upstairs dying this very night. James could be dead by now in London! What am I to do?"

"James is dying?"

"It seems so. Patricia called before supper and told me. It didn't sound hopeful."

Kathleen pulled his head to her breast. "My poor sweet Charles. Lie here with me and rest. You're exhausted."

She had him lie on the couch and place his head in her lap. She stroked his forehead and gently held him. Within a few minutes, he was asleep.

Kathleen now knew for sure that her dreams of the two of them ever being together were gone. If James died, Charles would be the next in line. There was no way that a simple house maid, a widow with a child, could marry a Lord. The only thing left was to decide what she was going to do next.

Mrs. Williams happened by about an hour later and looked in. She saw two young people asleep and experiencing the first peace anyone had in a long time. She tiptoed in and draped a blanket over them.



Love in the Time of War Ch. 10



The foul breath of the Hun caused him to feel nauseous as they rolled in the mud. The man's eyes seemed to bulge with both terror and anger as the two men were entangled in a fight to the death.

Charles awoke in a panic. Where was he? How long he had slept? As he cleared his mind, he realized he was alone. Kathleen had quietly left him on the sofa. It took him a few more seconds to orient himself before he headed towards the kitchen and the smell of hot food. His appearance there took Hodges by surprise.

"Sir!" she said. "I'm not really ready to serve breakfast yet."

"That's quite all right," he replied. "Just hot tea. I'm not quite ready myself. I must look a sight." He saw his reflection in one of the windows. He was unshaven and disheveled, a sight few had seen of him. "Thank you, Hodges," he said taking a hot cup. "If anyone is looking for me, I'll be in my room. Could you have someone bring some warm water up? Please."

Charles felt much better after shaving and putting on clean clothes. McTavish offered to help but Charles had shaved himself every day in the trenches so it wasn't a problem. Of course, warm, clean water was a problem then and clean clothes were out of the question. He always tried to look fresh and clean for his men. In a way, it was the same here. If you looked like you knew what you were doing, people believed you did.

He looked in the mirror after he finished. Besides the scars, which really weren't that noticeable, no one could see any damage. The eye looked clear and there was nothing visibly wrong with his ear. He decided he looked older but that didn't bother him. It was the invisible wounds that worried him.

Just as he exited his room, Kathleen was hurrying down the hallway. "Quick, you must come quick. The doctor needs to see you." By natural reaction, she grabbed his hand as they headed off. They met the doctor outside of Alice's door. "Yes, what is it?" Charles asked quickly, almost breathlessly.

"Good news, sir. Alice's fever has broken. She is very weak and we are not out of the woods yet. But things are improving." The doctor said quietly.

"May I see her?" Charles asked.

The doctor raised one finger and then disappeared behind the door.

Charles grabbed Kathleen and hugged her. "Did you hear that? Her fever broke. It might be all right now." He held her tight. She could feel his arms holding her and she didn't want the feeling to end.

They released each other as the doctor opened the door. "You may see her for a short time and please be quiet. She is still very weak." Charles followed slowly and quietly behind the doctor. What he saw gave him pause. Alice looked so weak and pale that it frightened him. It was not the rosy cheeked, upbeat sister he was use to. She moved her head to look at him. Stretching her arm towards him, she whispered,"Charles."

He moved quickly to the bed and sat beside her. Taking her hand, he kissed it. He then soothingly ran his hand across her forehead. "You really had us worried, Alice."

She smiled weakly. "Just keeping you on your toes. It was getting too easy for you. That is what sisters are for."

"When you get better, we'll see about that. You just concentrate on that."

"How is everyone? Don't lie to me. You know I can read you like a book."

"Mother and Father are doing much better. Father won't listen to the doctor, of course. Everyone on the staff is doing fine. Buxton is still in bed, acting much like Father, I'm afraid."

"And Catherine?"

Charles put his head down.

"She isn't...?" Alice gasped.

"No, no, she isn't. She is next door but it isn't good. The doctor said the next twenty-four will tell."

"Oh, Charles, I'm so sorry."

"No, Alice, things are going to work out. You take care of yourself and let me worry. Now rest and we'll talk later." He kissed her forehead and left the room. As he left, he asked the doctor if he could look in on Catherine.

"I rather you didn't," the doctor replied.

Charles nodded. As he walked down the hall, he knew he didn't tell Alice about James. She didn't need to know. No one had called so no news was good news. It was time to tell Father though he dreaded the reaction.

He found Father in the Dining room eating some cold meats.

"Charles, isn't that great news about Alice. Now we need the same about Catherine and it seemed we have made it though the siege. I didn't realize that so many here and in the village became sick. The doctor told me quite a few in the village, about half who were sick, have died. Simply awful."

"Father," Charles said as he took some toast and jam. "We might not be out of this yet."

"Yes, Catherine, of course." His Lordship said taking a bite.

Charles sat down next to his father. "I need to tell you this now that you are feeling better."

"Tell me what?"

"Patricia called and she said James is very ill."

Father put down his fork."Dear God. How sick? How long have you known?"

"About 2 days. I didn't feel you or Mother was up to being told so I waited till now. I'm sorry."

"No, boy, no need to be. Have you heard anything since?"

"No, nothing. I was going to call later."

His Lordship stood up. "No, you have done enough. I 'm very impressed how you have managed everything considering all the stress you are under. I know how worried you must be about all this. It's time you got some help with it. I'll call. And I'll tell Mother." Father began to leave when he stopped and turned. "Son, get some rest. We'll not be having you getting ill."

Charles decided to walk the grounds. He felt that the cool crisp air of late September would be good for him. He needed to clear his mind and be ready for anything that came his way. He really couldn't fathom what would happen if either Catherine or James died. The grief would be almost unbearable. As he walked, he surprised himself to the depth of his feelings towards Catherine. Maybe he did care for her more than he really knew. If she died, he knew he'd be crushed.

As for losing James...well, that was unthinkable. He wasn't close to either of his brothers but he always looked up to James. James was the heir, the next Lord Berwick. He couldn't die. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. James was to get the title, William the charm and easy life. Charles Stewart could choose his own life, marry who he wanted, and do anything he wanted, without interference. Instead it was all coming apart.

He stopped and looked at the old oak tree. It had been here forever. Alice and he played under it and climbed it. He kissed his first girl, Catherine, under its spreading branches. It had been here for as long as anyone could remember. It had seen many changes but it was still here, strong and sturdy. Charles smiled and thought, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Whatever happens, You will have to deal with it." He headed back to the house. As he entered, Mrs. Williams was there.

"Thank God, you are back, sir! It's Catherine!"

Charles flew up the stairs, two steps at a time. He ran down the hallway and burst into Catherine's room. He entered into a scene that quickly propelled him back to the trenches. The doctor was holding Catherine's head over the side of the bed and blood and bloody foam was spewing from her nose and mouth. One of the maids was holding a porcelain basin to catch it. Charles reeled in horror.

"Shut the door, man," the doctor yelled. Charles did as he told.

"Can I help?" he asked.

"Yes, help me hold her until it stops."

This continued for over a minute when it suddenly stopped. Charles eased her back into the bed. Catherine looked deathly pale and felt clammy to the touch. He looked at the doctor in desperation.

The doctor talked to the maid first, telling her to remove the basin and bring cold compresses back. He then turned to Charles.

"I'm sorry but it is out of my hands now. Catherine will have to fight against it herself or..." he trailed off. "Do you understand?"

Charles nodded and then made a dramatic decision. "Yes, doctor, I do. You have done enough and there are others who need you. Now will you please leave us. Please do not return and allow only Kathleen to bring cold compresses here." He turned towards the bed. "Thank you and good day."

He took off his coat and draped it over the chair. Pulling it close, he rolled up his sleeves and sat down close to the bed. He took Catherine's hand in both of his and leaned in close.

"Catherine," he whispered into her ear. "I made you a promise that when I went off to France that I would return. I kept my promise. Now I need you to make a promise to me. You will not leave me. Promise me."

For the rest of the night, he stayed with her. Kathleen was the only one allowed in and she brought cold compresses with her. Charles gently and lovingly placed them on Catherine's forehead. He used others to wipe down her arms. Other times he talked quietly to her, letting her know he was there. 

Around 2AM, Kathleen entered the room and found him, head down on the edge of the bed. She touched his shoulder and he slowly raised his head. "I wasn't sleeping, just resting."

"Charles, my dear, you can't keep this up," Kathleen said putting her arm around him. "You need to eat something and get some rest."

He looked at her and gave a small smile. "One way or the other, it will be over soon. She can't keep on like this. Then I'll sleep. Not till then."

'All right then. The next time I come up, I'll bring some tea and biscuits."

"Kathleen, you need to sleep too. You don't have to keep doing this."

"Don't worry. I'm getting some. It is the least I can do," she replied.

Charles held her in his arms. "This is so crazy. My nightmares make more sense."

"It will be all right," she said as she opened the door and left. She leaned against the wall and cried. If Catherine recovers, she thought, she will resign from her position because it was becoming obvious. The more she was with Charles, the deeper in love she was falling.



Love in the Time of War Ch. 11



Charles' head lolled to one side as he fought to stay awake. Kathleen had brought the tea and biscuits like she promised about two hours ago. It was the last time she came as he told her to get to some sleep. She refused but finally listened to him and left.

The last time he touch Catherine's forehead, she was as hot as his tea and her breathing was raspy. Still he was positive she would recover. He had witnessed hundreds of deaths and mortal woundings. Those who were going to die seemed to have a look around their eyes and Catherine didn't.

He remembered his first action on the Somme; a raw 2nd lieutenant scared half to death and in charge of his company as all the officers were down. He had witnessed men shot down in large numbers. Others were blown to pieces right before his eyes. He and two other soldiers were in a shell hole keeping their heads down, praying for darkness. In the hole was a third man who was seriously wounded. They took turns telling him he was going to make it and they would get him back. But as time went on, a shadow seemed to settle on the man's face. By the time night fell, he was dead. Since then Charles had seen it many times and each time he was helpless to stop it.

He also learned that it was sometimes pure luck who lived or died. He knew he was lucky that morning and he wasn't going to let his luck run out yet. Catherine was going to get better. He just knew it.

Off in the distance, he heard his name being called. It was soft and sweet, as if the wind was moving through the leaves. Realizing he was dozing, he opened his eyes. He focused his one good eye on the bed. Catherine was lying on her side, facing him. Softly she called his name and slowly extended her hand towards him. He leaped from his chair and rushed to her. 

Her blonde hair was matted to forehead from her sweat and her bed clothes were soaked. As he took her hand, she felt cool to his touch. Her smile was weak but the feverish look in her eyes was gone.

"Catherine?" he whispered.

"Yes, Charles," came back a weak reply through parched lips.

"Oh Catherine! Don't try and talk. Here."He took one of the remaining ice chips and moved it to her lips. "Here, just moisten your lips." Slowly he allowed her to take some of cool liquid. "I'll be right back." 

He was so happy that he barely knew what to do. She was alive. He moved quickly to the door. Opening it, he turned left to head down the hall and get someone to help. Because of his blind eye, he didn't the person seated there in a chair propped against the wall. He crashed into them and went down. "What the bloody hell?"

Kathleen helped him up. "Sorry."

"What are you doing here? I told you to get some sleep," he angrily snapped at her.

"I did, right here. I thought you might need me."

He looked at her and smiled. "Yes, quite right. Look, Catherine is awake. I need you to get some fresh linens, and a gown." He stopped. "She is going to be all right!" With that, he hugged her.

The doctor arrived about an hour later. He gave Catherine a complete checking over and his verdict was she would make a full recovery. Of course, it would take time and she was very weak but the worst was over. Charles thanked him adding that despite the number of patients the doctor had no one had died at Stanhope. An excellent record even if luck had something to do with it.

Charles headed down to the kitchen to get something to eat as Kathleen and one of the other maids helped tidy Catherine up. He didn't realize how hungry he was until he smelled the fine aroma coming from the room. He entered as most of the staff was finishing eating. They stood as one.

"Please, sit down and finish. I'll wait," he said.

Buxton, who despite just returning from being ill looked stern and in charge, spoke up. "No sir, it wouldn't be right. Not for all you did. We are standing because of you, not out of formality."

Charles was speechless. When he did speak, he tried to make light of it. "I don't know what to say. I'm lost for words, which doesn't happen very often. Please, sit down. Thank you."

They made room for him at the table and he sat down, comfortable and among good people. No one said anything about his appearance. He looked like someone who had stayed up all night. He ate quickly because he knew that there was plenty to do today. Also he was quite sure that at some time today he would need to sleep and need it badly. He had gone almost 36 hours in the trenches without sleep but he learned there how important it was to grab even a few minutes sleep, even standing up. It would be much more difficult to do that here. He needed to check in on Catherine, see how Alice as faring, inform Father and Mother, find out the latest on James, and make time to talk to Kathleen. He needed to thank her for all her help but more importantly, to discuss their future, as if there was one.

"I want to thank you all for your hard work in such trying times. Now that most everyone is recovering, things will get back to normal soon. So this will be my last meal with you. Again I thank you for this time together."

He headed up from the kitchen to the main hall, planning on going up stairs to shave and change. Reaching the base of the stairway, he stopped as he heard his father call to him. He turned. "Yes, Father."

"Charles, please come here." Father went into the Library. Charles followed. "What could be so bloody important this time?" Charles thought.

"Can't this wait, Father? I'm..."

"NO! Now!" He bellowed. Lord Berwick walked to the table and picked up the decanter. His hand shook as he poured two drinks. He drank one in a gulp and then refilled it. He handed one to Charles. "I'm sorry. I know you are tired but this can't wait."

Charles had never seen his father so upset. His father seemed to struggling to keep his emotions in check. "Father, what is it? Please tell me."

His Lordship looked through bloodshot eyes at Charles for a moment. When he spoke, his voice wavered. "It's James. He's dead."

Charles was sure he misunderstood his father."Did you say James is dead? When?"

Father drank his drink quickly. "Yes. Patricia called about an hour ago. Damn!" He turned and walked to the windows.

Charles stood still, shocked, unmoving. No, there must be some mistake. James couldn't be dead. He drained his drink.

His Lordship spoke to the windows. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"Yes. Poor Patricia and the girls. And Mother."

"Yes, of course. No, I was thinking of you. You are the remaining son. Now you are the heir of all this. The title, Stanhope, all of this." He made a sweeping gesture with his arm.

The silence in the room was deafening. It lasted almost a minute. Charles broke the silence. "Who else knows, Father?"

"No one else."

"I'll tell Alice and then Catherine. Will you tell Mother?" He put his hand on his father's shoulder.

"Yes, I will." Deep within his grief, his Lordship noticed one thing. Charles recovered from the initial shock and began to take charge. His son seemed to know what to do in the moment of crisis and moved quickly to handle it.

"Very well. I'll go now. Are you all right?"

"Yes,son."

Charles went right up stairs to Alice's room. The first thing he noticed was the color was back in her cheeks and she was smiling. She took one look at him and said, "What is the matter?"

"How does she know?" he thought. He stood there not sure what to say.

Alice leaned forward in the bed and patted a spot on it. "Sit here and tell me. You look exhausted."

Charles sat down. "Dammit, she was only a little older that him but she acted a lot older when the two were together," he mused.

"Now, just tell me," she said taking his hands.

"James is dead," he blurted out. 

The color drained from her face. "Oh, God!" she gasped.

"Are you all right?" he said caringly.

She then hugged her brother as she never had. James was gone and now she held her only remaining brother. As tears streamed down her cheeks, she held him tighter, not wanting to let go.

"When?" she asked, still holding him.

"A few hours ago. Father told me. He is taking it very hard. I'm worried about him."

"And Mother?"

"She doesn't know. Father is going to tell her. I'm going to tell Catherine."

"You know what this means, Charles?"

"Yes, I'm the next in line. Four years ago I was nothing. Now I'm the next Earl of Berwick. It is all too much."

"Yes it is. Also it means your marriage to Catherine has new importance. There can be no more doubts." She got out of bed. "There, get me my robe and we'll go tell Catherine together." She took his hand.

Together they told Catherine. She took it well but didn't grasp the implications at first. She was still a little fuzzy from her ordeal. Charles explained it to her in detail. All she could do was nod but she understood. She was to be the next Lady Berwick and the burden of all it entailed began to sink in. Alice excused herself and headed off to see her mother and father, leaving the two alone.

Catherine spoke as Alice left. "I always dreamt of having a title, like Mama but not like this. This is not right. I am so sorry."

"I know you are. This is how it will be for you and me. You don't have to marry me now. Things have changed."

"Things have not changed. I still love you and agreed to marry you before all this. It is you that has the right to change your mind. Nothing has been announced. You can find someone better."

"Dear God, no, Catherine. Don't say that."

Catherine held out her arms. "Please hold me and don't let me go."

Charles climbed on to the bed and she snuggled into him. She felt protected and loved. Within moments she fell into a deep sleep followed shortly thereafter by Charles. For the first time, held in Catherine's arms, he slept without nightmares.



Love in the Time of War Ch. 12



It was a glorious first day of June. Catherine could feel the warmth of the sun on her face and arms as she reclined on a blanket. The sounds of bird songs and the nearby stream filled the air. She had never felt happier in her life. She was now Mrs. Charles Stewart and had been for less than a month, a month that seemed to be a complete blur to her as she had never experienced such complete contentment before. Beginning with their first night of the honeymoon in southern France, she finally knew the true meaning of making love. To her great surprise, it was a feeling that she never wanted to lose. The entire honeymoon was wonderful. The days were relaxing and fun filled but the nights were amazing. Charles had brought feelings to surface she never knew she had. 

On their first night, she apologize that she was not a virgin but with all her heart she wished she was. Charles looked at her and smiled. "This is my first time with you so, yes, you are my virgin."

Just thinking about it made her want him again. She sat up and pulled her knees up to her chest. Placing her hand on his broad back, she said, "What are you thinking of?"

Her voice brought him back to reality. He had been deep in thought, thinking about how his life had changed and changed so quickly. Five years ago he had very little in the way of concerns and cares. In 1914, the world went mad and events piled up that drastically affected him. First William died at Loos and then James died from the Spanish flu. Overnight he went from the third son with a vague future to heir to the title of Earl of Berwick. His time in the trenches resulted in seeing things no human should see. His wounding caused physical scars but those covered the scars you couldn't see. Remarkably since his marriage to Catherine, he had not had any nightmares and no severe headaches had struck him down. He thought about the two women in his life and how they changed it.

Kathleen had left Stanhope Manor the day after the Armistice. It took the family and especially Charles, by surprise but with James' funeral and the War ending, he never found a chance to talk to her about her decision. It was only by chance that he was able to say good bye at all.

"Kathleen, please wait," he yelled running down the gravel path. "Wait!"

She stopped and dropping her valise, waiting.

He caught up to her and placing his hands on his knees, caught his breath. "You can't leave without saying good bye."

"I'll was planning on it."

"Why would you do that? You just can't walk out of my life"

She sighed. "Charles, I have never been a part of your life. Your life is here at Stanhope with your family, your titles. I can never be a part of that and I can't just stand on the edge of it and watch."

"But I told you I love you. Don't I deserve something more?"

"Deserve something more? I gave you my heart and that night I offered you everything, you did nothing. What more do you want?"

Charles grabbed her by the shoulders. "No, not that! We can't part without a good bye. You just can't walk out of my life. I won't let you. I carried your locket next my skin in France. I was thinking of you that night in France. It has always been you. In another place or time, it would have been us. Now do you understand?"

Kathleen buried her face into his shoulder and began to cry, long and hard. She held on to him as if her life depended on it. "This is why I just had to leave," she said between sobs. "I knew it would be too hard. Oh God, I do love you."

They stood there in the path, neither one wanting to let go. They both knew they had to. Silently they moved apart and Charles picked up her bag. They walked down the path towards the village and train station without talking. Along the way she took his hand and held it tightly. At the station, Kathleen kissed him tenderly on the cheek. As he started to talk, to say goodbye, she placed a finger to his lips and shook her head. She turned and boarded, not looking back.

He had not seen or heard from her since that day. He made sure to invite her to the wedding but she didn't attend. She had walked out of his life.

Catherine rubbed his back. "Charles?"

Her voice brought him back.

"I was just thinking how lucky I am," he said quickly.

She slipped her arm into his and rested her head on his shoulder."In what way?"

"In many ways," he began. "In the trenches, a minute or two either way, and that shell would have ended it." Sweeping his hand in front of him, he continued. "Someday all this and the title will be ours." Turning to her,"And I have the best, most beautiful wife any man could ask for. That's what I mean."

"Oh, Charles, It is I who is lucky," she said pulling herself closer.

Charles lay back on to the blanket bringing Catherine down with him. "No," he thought, "Catherine was wrong. It was he who is lucky. She will be his equal in all things, not like others whose wives are just decorations or lack opinions. When he entered his first session of Parliament and he looked up into the gallery, he would be proud to see her there. He finally realized that they were meant to be together."

He picked up her chin and looked into her eyes.

"What?" she asked quizzically.

"I love you, Catherine," and he kissed her. It was a deep and passionate kiss. She kissed him back. They continued to kiss as he rolled her onto her back. His hand went to the large buttons on her blouse and began to undo them.

Catherine grabbed his hand, "Here? Now?"

"Yes," he answered and kissed her again as his hand undid the first button. She didn't stop him.

He slid his hand inside her blouse, feeling her silk chemise. He cupped her ample breast and she responded by opening her mouth, allowing his tongue to enter. Catherine moaned softly.

Catherine placed her hands on his shoulders. She looped her fingers around his suspenders and slid them down. She grabbed his shirt hem and pulled it up. She then ran her hands up his bare back. The touch of his skin added to her excitement.

Charles moved up hand under her chemise and caressed her nipple with his fingers. He pitched it causing it to harden. He broke their kiss and slowly began kissing her neck, moving steadily down. She arched her back from the feeling.

She never believed that love making could be so good. All her mother had told her and her time as William's wife had not prepared her for this. She felt wanton but alive. She wanted it to never stop.

Charles was sucking on her one breast, nibbling and teasing her nipple while pinching the other. The feeling went straight to her quim. She spread her legs, encouraging him to go further. She pressed his head to her breast.

He moved his hand to her leg and slid it upward. He moved tenderly across her stockings and touched her bare thigh. There he paused, drawing small circles with his fingers, teasing her.

"Oh, dear, please stop. You are driving me insane."

"You want me to stop?" He smiled.

"You know what I mean!" With that, she frantically unbuttoned his pants and reached inside. She found his cock and wrapped her hand around it, pulling it free. "Please."

Charles pushed her skirt up and pulled her under garment down. Catherine lay exposed before him. Though he had seen the sight before, it took his breath away. He paused, and then moved between her legs. He moved forward slowly entering her. Her wetness and heat surrounded him. She gasped.

The feeling began to spread throughout her body as she began to move her hips matching his movement. She wrapped her legs around him, wanting him to go deeper. At this minute, nothing else matter, just Charles and the overwhelming passion.

"Oh God," she cried out as it swept over her. She arched her back and stiffened under him. Her hands grabbed his ass and pulled him into her. She felt his cheeks clench as he came in her with a groan.

He rolled off her and then pulled her close. The heat of the sun felt good on their bare skin and added to the intense feelings they had felt. At this moment, the world didn't matter; it was just the two of them, deeply in love. 

November, 1936

The wind slashed across the lawn, driving the rain hard against the windows. The sound made one feel good to be inside. Lady Catherine sat on the sofa engaged in a quiet conversation with Lady Alice as the Dowager Lady Stewart dozed in large comfortable chair. The fire cracked and snapped as its heat filled the Drawing Room. The warmth was welcomed at the end of a cold day. Catherine looked across the see her husband, Lord Charles, 7th Earl of Berwick, deeply engrossed in the newspaper. She had been worried about him recently.

A lot had occurred in her life since she married Charles in 1919. She had watched Charles take his seat in Parliament and become a leading voice for pensions for the returning service men. She enjoyed being involved in local politics and helped Charles campaign. One voter told her that the reason he voted for Charles was because of her. One thing that made her feel good was that Charles always acknowledged her efforts. When his father died in 1930, one regret was that he would have to leave the House of Commons for Lords. Catherine missed going with Charles to meet the people.

She had also done her primary role; motherhood. They had been blessed with three children, James, Anne, and William. James was off at school while the others were upstairs asleep. Looking back, Catherine had every reason to be happy. But lately it seemed to her that something was troubling Charles. He got more irritated at little things and when she tried to helped, he was cold and abrupt. He was distant to her in all ways.

"Damn," Charles said, slamming down the newspaper. "He is a fool."

"Charles! Who is a fool?" Catherine asked.

He walked over the table and poured himself a drink. "The King, over this Simpson thing. There is talk of him abdicating." 

"I hear he wants her to be his equal, the Queen." Alice said.

"Well, he loves her." Catherine added.

"Love! Love has nothing to do with this. He is the King. He has his duty to the country. He knew this going in. Throwing all away for the love of a silly woman. He is a fool." Charles seemed to spit out the words.

The Dowager had awakened and added, "An American and a divorcee as Queen, never!"

"It seems Winston is opened to some type of compromise but Baldwin has threatened to resign."

"Well, that half-breed would support the King on this."

Alice turned to her mother,"Just because his mother was American doesn't make Winston bad."

"I agree with Winston," Catherine said, "The King should be able to marry who he wants."

"For God's sakes, Catherine, not you too. He is the King. He has to sacrifice his own personal feelings for doing the right thing. It is his duty to the country. His burden to bear. It is the curse of the titled class." Charles stated firmly.

Catherine had no reply for him and she sat on sofa with folded hands.

Alice was the only one in the room who realized what was upsetting Charles. She, like Catherine, had noticed how preoccupied he was. She could read him like a book ever since they were young but it wasn't until now that she understood. It wasn't the King and Simpson. This had opened an old wound that had been long buried. It was personal. It was about Kathleen and him. The King's affair made him think about Kathleen and the decision he had to make. Did he still care about her?

Alice said calmly, "You are making this personal. Charles."

He turned quickly and stared at her angrily. She recoiled from his look.

There was a knock at the Drawing Room door.

"Come in!" he shouted.

Wilson came in carrying a small package. Wilson had replaced Buxton who had passed away and was now the head butler. 

"What is it, Wilson?" There was an edge to his voice that Charles never used with the staff.

"A package for you, Your Lordship."

"A package? In this weather?" Catherine asked.

"Is the man still here, Wilson?" Charles had regained his usual demeanor.

"Yes. He is in the foyer." Wilson answered.

"I'll go see."

Charles headed out to the foyer where he met the village postmaster. He was drenched and shivering.

"Colston, why did you bring it here? On a night like tonight. Surely it could have waited."

"No, Your Lordship. It couldn't wait." The man gulped as if he had done something wrong. "It came to my office over a week ago, sir. But it got misplaced and I just found it. I'm sorry, sir."

"That's all right, Colston." Charles turned to Wilson and told him to take the postmaster down to the kitchen. "Have him warm up before the fire and have Mrs. Nelson give him some hot tea." Before Wilson left, Charles gave him some money and told him to give it to the postmaster. As the two left, Charles looked at the package.

It was wrapped in brown paper and about the size of a book. He didn't recognize the handwriting or the address. It came from a small village east of Stanhope. He tore open the paper to find an envelope addressed to him and a small box the same size. He opened the letter and began to read it.

Dear Sir,

You don't know me but you did know my mother, Kathleen O'Toole. She asked that I send this to you as her last request. Upon cleaning up her things, I found these letters and sent them on to you. You should know that she died peacefully and her last thoughts were about you. I'm sorry to inform you in this way but I knew of no other way.

Sincerely, John O'Toole

"Oh Dear God!" Charles exclaimed as he reread the note. Wilson, just reentering the foyer, hurried to his side.

"Are you all right, sir?"

Charles looked at Wilson. With all the reserve he could muster, he said, "I'll be in the Library. No one, I mean no one is to enter."

For the next two hours, Charles read every one of his letters he had send Kathleen from the trenches. Her locket was also part of the package, the one she gave him as he left the last time. He wrapped its chain around his fingers as he read each word. As he read, a flood of memories came pouring over him. Feelings about how he felt and how different his life would have been crowded his mind.

Surprising, reading the letters almost brought a sense of closure to this part of his life. He mourned the fact that she died but she was gone long before this. She represented something he lost long ago, his youth and his innocence. When Kathleen boarded the train that day, she still remained with him but in reality she has left his life. Only he didn't accept it. With her passing, he was now forced to.

"Damn Alice! She knows me too well," he cursed. "She is right. It isn't the King's affair that is upsetting me. It was Kathleen and my memories that were causing me to treat people so poorly, especially Catherine."

"What a fool I have been," he said softly. "I have everything a man could want. The love of two women in one lifetime but I've been too stupid to understand it. I put one good woman in an impossible position and the other, a wife who any man would die for; a wife who gave me three beautiful children and loves me 100%. No demands, no questions. Yet I never gave her all of me. I cheated on the best thing I ever had."

Over the years, if anything, Catherine had become more beautiful than when they were first married. Having 3 children seemed to have added curves to an already perfect figure and though she was nearing 40 she retained her glow and sparkle of her youth. During the last Parliament, in a conversation with Lord Beresdale, as Catherine approached them , His Lordship said in a stage whisper to Charles, "You are a lucky man," nodding towards Catherine.

"Thank you. I know."

"No, man. You are lucky it isn't thirty years ago. I'm sure that your wife would have caught the King's eye. A beautiful creature. I envy you."

He walked over to fireplace. The fire was going strong and he could feel its heat. Slowly he took each letter and tossed it into the fire. He watched each one burn and then tossed in another. With each burning ember, he was removing his past. He continued until each one was gone. When they were all gone, he took a deep breath and headed up stairs. It was time to move on and start living in the present. It was time to set things right and appreciate the woman who loved him completely.

Catherine was sitting up in bed, reading the latest mystery. She found it difficult to concentrate as she was worried about Charles. This issue with the King seemed to upset him more each day. It was so unlike him. "What was in that package?" she thought. After its arrival, he locked himself in the Library and hadn't come out. This was nothing like the Charles she knew.

He entered the bedroom without a word. Catherine decided to wait for him to say something first. She didn't want to pry. He changed into his pajamas but without his shirt. He walked over to where she was and took the book away from her. She looked at him quizzically.

He kissed her. Not a short kiss but a deep meaningful kiss. Catherine kissed him back with feeling. He hadn't kissed her like this in months and she missed it. He placed his hands on her straps and slipped them down, exposing her breasts. He began to caress them and they responded to his touch.

"Oh God," she moaned as she pushed his head to her breasts. She arched her back, urging him to take them into his mouth, to suck, to love them. 

As his mouth teased and loved her breasts, his hand moved up her thigh to that special place between her legs. He found it hot, wet and open to his touch. Slowly he teased her clit until she felt she would explode. She wanted him so badly.

Finally when she thought she could take no more, he entered her. He felt bigger, firmer than he ever felt. She came with a deep guttural moan but she wanted, needed more. 

"There is something different tonight," Catherine thought but she didn't care. She didn't want it to end. She came more times than she could remember before Charles came in her, filling her completely.

He didn't roll off her but collapsed into her arms. She held him tightly, basking in the afterglow of their love making. How she loved him. What she didn't know was at that moment Charles was hers, fully and totally in love with her. And he would be for as long as he lived.