Rose laughed. It was the first time she had laughed in a long time. It felt good. ‘I believe you would have.’
‘I wanted everything to be just right.’
Rose snuggled lower in her cocoon of blankets and closed her eyes. ‘It was just right. It was perfect.’
They fell silent as the vibration of the engine brought a familiar comfort to the jolting journey. The cool night air tugged at her hat and chilled the tip of her nose, but she did not mind.
Nicholas was the first to break the silence. ‘You see those stars hanging low in the sky? That’s the plough.’ He looked down at her, as he let his hand fall. ‘Your eyes are closed. Are you falling asleep on me?’ His warm, teasing tone tugged at something deep inside her. She knew he was watching her, but strangely, she didn’t mind. She was learning that pure contentment was a soothing balm to her shyness.
‘No. I’m pretending I’m on a sleigh ride.’ She heard Nicholas’s soft laughter beside her. ‘It feels very real. I can feel the wind rushing past me and if I open my eyes just a little, all I see is stars. I feel as if I am flying through the sky.’ This time Nicholas did not laugh, but settled deeper into his seat beside her. Curiosity got the better of her and she stole a glance at him. He had closed his eyes too, his dark lashes fanning out against his cheeks, his shapely lips set firm in concentration.
Rose watched his serious expression, resisting the urge to caress his jaw with her fingers. ‘Are you falling asleep?’ she asked.
‘No,’ he replied without opening his eyes. ‘I’m on the sleigh ride with you.’
Rose’s breath caught in her throat. Strangely, she felt as if she was missing out and hurriedly closed her eyes too. His warmth beside her remained her anchor, but everything else hadchanged. They were riding in an ornate sleigh of red and gold, with reindeer driving them forward through a star-studded sky. It was magical and special, the birth of a memory that only the two of them would share. They remained in a companionable silence for the remainder of the journey, their hands close, but barely touching, their thoughts unspoken, yet shared. Both not wanting the magical night to end, but knowing that it inevitably would and feeling the same guilt that it existed at all.
Chapter Six
Thursday, 11th December, 1919
The bent figure of a gardener digging, formed by delicate brushstrokes of brown and blue watercolour, was no more than a silhouette, but Nicholas could tell he was a youth and believed he knew who it was. It was one of several paintings his mother had reclaimed from his grandfather’s estate while he was away. She had painted them for her father as a child and it seemed only right for her to have them now.
Unlike his mother, Nicholas did not attend his grandfather’s funeral. At the time, he was stationed in Germany. His request had been denied and he did not fight it. He barely knew the elderly man who had grown more cantankerous over the latter years of his life. His mother accepted his decision without question. Her own relationship with her father had been fraught for much of her life and she understood his unwillingness to put forward a stronger case to his superiors.
His grandfather’s death changed everything, yet nothing. For a time, life went on as normal for Nicholas, whatever normal life is for a British soldier in post-war Germany. According to his mother, the funeral had been a quiet affair, just as she had hoped. However, news of his death did not remain a family affair for long. It travelled quickly amongst the gentry, stretched as far as Germany and finally touched Nicholas’s life. He could no longer hide from the inheritance and title that was now his to claim.
‘Damn you, man!’ raged his Major when he found out. ‘Why did you enter the war as a private when you could have entered as an officer!’
‘Because I did not deserve the rank. It should be earned by experience, not by the class you are born into.’
The Major stared blankly at him. It was as if he had spoken in an ancient tongue. Gradually his words sunk in and his moustache quivered with rage.
‘You were born into a class that gives you the right, for God’s sake!’
‘It’s done and the war is over. I made my decision and I do not regret it.’
‘Did you state who you were when you requested authorised absence for his funeral?’
‘I did not. It should not have mattered.’
The Major thumped his desk with the side of his fist. ‘A man of your station has things to sort out. Inheriting land and a title holds a certain responsibility and cannot be shirked. You will need to go home at some point. I will ensure that you have all the time you need.’
As Christmas approached, Nicholas was reminded of Sam’s request. It had always lain heavy on his mind and he finally put in a request to return home. This time the leave was granted without hesitation and extended in length. Nicholas suspected his newly acquired title had influenced the decision greatly, but at least it would give him more time to carry out Sam’s wish. However, the discovery that the class divide was as relevant after the war as it had been before it, sickened him.
Yesterday morning, he had made up his mind to leave. Instead of the train station, he had ended up in the well-tended cemetery standing in front of his grandfather’s grave. His gravestone had finally been erected, his mother told him as she caught him leaving, and she wanted him to see it. How could he deny her? So instead of leaving on the first train, he had accompanied his parents to see it in all its glory. Coming face to face with death has a way of making one value the present. Suddenly his reason to leave seemed less clear. Why was herunning away from something that felt so good? He enjoyed Rose’s company, so what harm could it do to stay?
His mother had remained composed and dignified at the graveside, but during the night he had heard his father’s comforting tones as she sobbed into the darkness. Nicholas was unsure if she was grieving for the man who died or the relationship they never truly had. It dawned on Nicholas that he felt the same ache for the man he had few memories of to cherish. How much harder it must be to lose someone you loved.
Nicholas continued to study the painting before him. His gaze lifted to the large manor house in the far distance, rising above the neatly trimmed garden wall and the gardener toiling in the foreground. Carrack House. It was a reminder of the title he had no wish to claim, but now could no longer be ignored. His mother understood his ongoing reluctance. It was difficult to embrace something that had affected his mother’s life so much, despite her reassurances that it was alright if he did. In fact, when his conscription papers had come through during the war, she had begged him to accept the class she had been born into.
‘My experience has made me the woman I am today, Nicholas,’ she had told him. ‘Do not fear owning the class of your grandfather, if the position of an officer helps to keep you safe. It is the man who shapes his legacy, not the title you will eventually have to bear.’ He had refused and she did not beg him again.
Nicholas glanced at the clock on the wall. It would not be long before Rose closed her shop.
‘Are you thinking of her?’
His mother’s voice startled him as he had not heard her approach. ‘No. I was admiring your painting.’
