He served the first course, vermicelli soup.
“I’m pleased to see that Mrs. Chadburn found a Christmas tree,” Reggie said as he watched me lift my spoon to begin eating.
The tree in question had been placed in the great hall and was very impressive. Already the maids had decorated it with the Fairhavens’ ornaments. Tomorrow we would light the candles and exchange gifts—though I did not have anything for Reggie, since I had not anticipated his arrival.
I slowly ate my soup, having nothing to say. It tasted bland and unappetizing, though whether from lack of spices or my poor mood, I couldn’t tell.
“Perhaps we could go for a walk on the moors tomorrow,” Reggie said. “There is much I would like to show you of Cumberland Hall. I only wish I had been here with you from the start.”
I finally met his gaze and studied him. Was he being sincere? Was he trying to woo me?
As the meal progressed and he spoke of his childhood memories, his longing for home, and his hope for the future, I noticed one thing he did not address. The war. It slipped in and out of his conversation in a casual manner, but he did not share anything about the past five months of his life. I realized he hadn’t shared anything about it in his letters, either. Was it because he wasn’t allowed? Or because he didn’t want to?
I finally decided to ask him while Mr. Wentworth served the third course, braised beef. “How is your work with the war effort going?”
It was one of the first questions I’d asked since we sat down, and Reggie looked up at me in surprise. But his surprise was soon overshadowed by something deeper and more troubling. He looked down at his plate, almost lost in thought.
“I wasn’t planning to tell you this until closer to the end of my visit,” he said, “but I believe you should know.”
My beef remained untouched on my plate, and I saw Mr. Wentworth pause out of the corner of my eye.
Reggie took another sip of his drink and finally looked up at me, anxiety filling his countenance. “We need more men to enlist, and we’ve tried every tactic we can imagine. Mr. Asquith believes we need a high-profile member of Parliament to enter the conflict, thereby encouraging the masses.” He swallowed and then lifted his chin. “I have volunteered.”
I frowned. “But aren’t you needed in London?”
“My position can easily be filled. I will be commissioned as a captain in the British Army.” He smiled. “But never fear, it will be a mostly ceremonial position. I will be sent somewhere in relative safety and will assist one of the major generals. I will not see any combat.”
As he spoke, I could see he was trying to convince himself. Was that why he had become sentimental about Cumberland Hall—and me?
“So you see, I must make the most of this visit, because I do not know when I might have the chance to return.” He lifted his glass in an informal toast, then took a long drink.
Empathy filled me in a way I did not expect. Reggie was going to war, and he was frightened.
I laid aside my fork and gave him my undivided attention. It was the least he deserved. “I will pray for you,” I said, “and ask that God keep you safe.”
“Thank you, Anna.” His face softened. “Or may I call you Libby, as you once asked?”
I swallowed, uncertain I wanted him to call me that name. Here, as his wife, I did not feel like Libby. Yet it was my true self. I was Libby Conant, and I always would be, no matter what I was forced to endure in this path.
“You may.”
“Thank you, Libby.” He smiled, and his anxiety seemed to dissipate. “I have promised myself I would not allow anything to hinder my time with you this week. I hope we can enjoy each other’s company.”
I picked up my fork once again and began to eat, purposely avoiding his statement.
When supper ended, Reggie stood and pulled back my chair. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and I had noticed his eyes getting glossy and his speech beginning to slur.
“My head hurts tonight,” I said as I moved away. “I will leave you to enjoy a cigar.”
“Nonsense.” He clasped my hand. “I do not want us to part ways tonight.” He motioned to Mr. Wentworth, who was taking the food off the table. “Leave those things until later. I’d like to be alone with my wife.”
My heart rate escalated as Mr. Wentworth bowed and then ushered the maid out of the library, closing the door behind them.
“I’m not feeling well,” I said, trying to pull my hand loose from Reggie’s grasp. “Perhaps I should go—”
“Please don’t.” He drew me close and pressed his face into my hair, taking a deep breath. “This is all I could think about, Libby. This moment with you. Alone.”
I tried to pull away again, but he held me close.
