Wesley nodded. “As is his brother. Charles actually married a year earlier. As far as I remember, his wife’s name is Isabella. She’s Lord Gadbury’s eldest daughter.” He chuckled. “To be honest, I always thought Charles chose the wrong wife. After all, Rose seems much better suited to him.”
William shrugged. “I suppose opposites do attract.” Hearing about his friends’ wives, he couldn’t help but wonder about his own. “What is Catherine like?”
Stopping, Wesley turned to look at him, his eyes indecisive. “I wouldn’t call the two of you opposites,” he said, all humour gone from his voice as he looked at William with a hint of pity in his eyes.
Squirming under his brother’s gaze, William cleared his throat, then continued down the hall toward the library. “Everything around here looks the same,” he mumbled. “I have to admit I like not finding a new painting here or a new vase there. I know these are just little things, but they make me feel as though I haven’t missed all that much. Do you understand?”
Wesley nodded as they entered the library. “I do. However, there is one significant aspect that has changed.”
“I’m married,” William whispered, his voice bouncing off the high ceiling as he stood gazing from the large fireplace in the centre of the room over the window front opening to the gardens to the rows upon rows of books stacked high on numerous shelves.
A part of him still couldn’t believe it was true. He barely remembered her so short had been their two encounters. Whenever he closed his eyes though, he saw her jade green eyes filled with tears that streamed down her face, and his insides twisted painfully. “How is she?” he asked, uncertain whether or not he truly wished to know.
“Not well,” Wesley replied, compassion ringing in his voice, and for a moment, William felt the urge to laugh at the absurdity of the thought that his brother cared for his own wife more than he did himself. “She is grieving,” his brother went on, and William turned around, a frown on his face.
Shrugging his shoulders, Wesley nodded. “I’m sorry to put this on you, big brother, but you need to know how difficult this is for her.”
Turning away, William sighed. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“What do you want me to say?” William snapped, facing his brother once more. “I feel as though you’re accusing me of forgetting her on purpose.”
Shaking his head, his brother stepped forward, regret shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry. That is not what I meant to say. I simply thought to explain that she is beside herself with sadness and that it might take some time for her to face you, to speak to you.”
“I understand.” Deep down, William wasn’t ready to face her either, and he wasn’t sure if he ever would be. How could fate be so cruel?
“We should go,” Wesley said, glancing at the tall grandfather clock in the corner. “Supper will be served shortly.”
William nodded.
As they proceeded down the hallway, Wesley drew in a shaky breath, and William tensed, wondering what had his brother so on edge. Could there possibly be more bad news?
“Before I forget,” his brother began, “Catherine’s sister arrived a few days ago.”
“She has a sister?”
Wesley nodded. “Her name is Christine. She came as soon as she heard about the accident.” He swallowed. “She’ll be at supper as well.”
Inhaling deeply, William braced himself. Not only would he have to face his wife’s sad eyes, but also her sister’s. Would she be upset? Would she blame him for causing her sister such pain?
At the thought, a shiver went down his back and his teeth clenched. As they approached the dining room doors, his feet slowed of their own accord. However, William couldn’t agree with them more. There was no place he’d rather be than anywhere else but in that dining room.
He didn’t have a choice though.
As they approached, the footmen swung open the doors, and he found himself face to face with his wife.
***
Awkward was the word he’d have used to describe that evening. Every look, every word, every breath seemed forced somehow. None of them wanted to be in that room, and they all squirmed uncomfortably in their chairs.
Upon entering the dining room, William took a deep breath and followed his brother as he strode toward the three women, who were already waiting for them.
“Good evening, William,” his mother said, a gentle smile on her face. “I’m so relieved you’ve recovered enough to join us for supper.”
“Thank you, Mother,” William croaked as his eyes were drawn to the other two women standing by his mother’s side. “As am I.”
“Allow me to introduce you,” his brother said, his hand sweeping out, indicating the woman in a rather extravagant dress. “This is Christine Dansby, your wife’s sister.”
Bowing to her, William stopped when he met her eyes, and for a second, confusion settled in his bones. If it hadn’t been for his brother’s introduction, he would have expected this woman to be his wife and not his sister-in-law.
Carefully, his eyes swept over her, taking in her elaborate hairstyle, the sparkling gown that had to have cost a fortune as well as the gleaming necklace that accentuated the rather low neckline of her dress. All in all, she struck him as a society lady who felt most at home in the many ballrooms all over London, her only interest the newest fashion as well as the connections she could form there.
However, when he found himself looking into her eyes, that image changed. Sadness clung to them in such an acute and honest way that he felt certain that these had been the eyes he had first met upon waking after his accident.
As she caught him looking at her, she quickly averted her gaze and a slight blush came to her cheeks.
Wesley cleared his throat. “Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the table. Then he offered his arm to Christine and escorted her to her seat.
Hesitating for only a moment, William stepped toward his wife. “Allow me,” he whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Thank you,” she whispered back. Her voice, however, did not seem to shake as he would have expected. It sounded not at all like his own, filled with tension and uncertainty. Instead, she simply spoke quietly.
After escorting her to her seat, William sat down at the head of the table, glancing from his mother to his brother before his eyes returned to the two women he did not remember.
Dressed more simply in muted colours, his wife sat almost slumped in her chair as though a heavy weight rested on her shoulders. She kept her eyes on the plate before her, occasionally glancing at her sister or his brother, but rarely at him. Now and then, she would sniffle as though holding back tears, the corners of her mouth drawn down, a sad expression on her face.
However, when her eyes accidentally did meet his toward the end of supper, he was surprised to see a sparkle of excitement in them, which struck him as odd.
Confused, he turned to his brother, who was speaking to Christine in quiet tones about the upcoming Christmas Ball, and consequently ignored him.
Sighing, William returned his gaze to the plate before him. He knew he ought to participate in the conversation−even his wife offered the occasional comment−however, he almost felt like a stranger in their midst. They had known each other for years and, therefore, knew each other well. They conversed easily, their shared history visible in the little comments and looks they exchanged. It was a familiarity that William was not privy to.
Of course, he knew his mother and brother−had known them all his life−and yet, he didn’t know anything about their lives in the past five years.
In that moment, sitting in the dining room, the echo of his family’s voices surrounding him, William felt more alone than he ever had.
Later that night, he was pacing the length of his chamber when his brother entered, a worried look on his face. “Are you all right?” Wesley asked, closing the door behind him. “You’ve barely said anything at supper.”
Exasp
erated, William shrugged his shoulders. “What should I have said?” Closing his eyes for a moment, he shook his head. “The manor might not have changed in the past five years, but its people have. I feel as though I don’t know any of you.”
Wesley sighed, a hint of sadness coming to his eyes as he came toward him. “Listen,” he began, placing a hand on William’s shoulder, “after what happened, you cannot expect to return to normal within a few days. Not remembering years of your life is bound to change how you feel in your own home.”
“What if I’ll never remember?” William asked as panic crept up his spine. “Will I always be a stranger to my own family? A stranger in my own home?”
For a long moment, Wesley looked at him, his eyes distant as though contemplating how to respond. “I’ve always thought there are two aspects to a memory,” he began, his gaze serious as he held William’s. “A factual one as well as an emotional one. While the factual one is not unimportant, I’ve always found it to be of less importance, do you know what I mean?”
William frowned.
“All right,” his brother said, disregarding what he’d just said with a wave of his arm. “What I mean is that we can help you with the factual aspects of your lost memories. We can tell you what happened in the past five years. Not every little detail, of course, but that which we deem important. And although you might not remember the actual events, you’ll know about them.”
William nodded, and yet, his brother’s words seemed insufficient. Would he be forced to be a student of his own life? Sitting down to memorise dates and events with his family as his tutor quizzing him on his life?
“The emotional aspect is more difficult to convey,” Wesley continued. “I can tell you that you loved your wife,” William stiffened, “but that doesn’t mean anything to you because emotions are not just words. They are much more, and I don’t believe there is one specific way to regain them.” Placing both hands on William’s shoulders, Wesley looked into his eyes. “Even if you don’t remember the fencing match that gave me this scar,” his brother said, glancing down at his left cheek, “you do remember me. You remember us growing up together. You remember the bond we always shared. What are the past five years compared to that?” A soft smile curled up the corners of his mouth, and William nodded, feeling his shoulders relax.
“I am still your brother,” Wesley said, deep emotion ringing in his voice, “and that will never change.” As though to emphasise his words, he nodded, his eyes trained on William’s, waiting for his words to be absorbed. “The same is true for Mother as well as your childhood friends.” He swallowed, and his face became serious once more. “Catherine, however, is a different matter.”
William sighed. “I know. I don’t even remember meeting her, and now, all of a sudden, I’m married to her.” He shrugged then met his brother’s eyes. “What do I do? I don’t want to cause her more pain. I cannot simply go to her and ask her how we met, how we fell in love. Questions like these would surely devastate her.” Wesley nodded. “But how else do I even have a chance of ever remembering her?”
“Talk to Christine,” Wesley said, conviction ringing in his voice.
“Are you certain?” William asked frowning.
“Catherine is too fragile right now to be of any help to you,” Wesley explained. “However, Christine might be able to answer your questions.”
“Can you not tell me about how we met and fell in love?” William asked, a hint of unease stealing into his heart at the thought of discussing something so personal with a stranger.
Wesley grimaced slightly. “Well, I could tell you the basics. However, women are different. I’m certain that Catherine spoke to her sister about every little detail about how she fell in love with you. Christine will be able to answer your questions a lot better than I ever could. They’ve always been very close, and I do believe that the more emphatic you can relive a memory the easier it will be for you to remember it for real.”
William nodded. “What you say makes sense, and yet, I have to admit that speaking to Christine about her sister is something I cannot help but dread.”
“I know, Will.” Once more holding his gaze, his brother nodded. “But I do believe it will be worth it. If there is any chance for you to remember that you loved Catherine, to remember what that felt like, Christine is the one to help you. And then maybe later you can speak to Catherine herself. However, for now, I believe that her sister is your best chance.”
“You’re right, Brother,” William mumbled, his thoughts a mess as they tumbled through his head. However, he felt more convinced than ever that he needed to remember his wife. After all, they were tied to one another for the rest of their lives. There was no contingency plan for what to do when one woke up one morning and didn’t have the slightest idea who one’s spouse was.
Could they continue as husband and wife although, for all intents and purposes, she was a stranger to him? William felt a cold shiver crawl up his arms and legs. Although he could not remember falling in love, William was certain that he could never have married a woman he did not love. Deep inside, his heart pulsed with a love forgotten as though its loss had left a mark that reminded him of what he needed to find to be whole again.
He had no choice. He had to remember the love he’d once felt for his wife.
Hopefully, Christine could help him.
Chapter Four − In the Snow
The next day, William found himself at a loss as to what to do. He needed to speak to Christine, and yet, he could not find the nerve to simply walk up to her and demand answers. Would she even speak to him about her sister or consider it a betrayal of Catherine’s confidence?
However, after sulking in his bedchamber for the majority of the morning, wearing a hole in his rug from pacing the length of the window front, William spotted Christine−it was Christine, wasn’t it?−walking down the cobblestone path to the gardens, her dainty feet leaving a trail in the snow.
For a second, he stiffened, his mind racing, before he quickly changed into his padded leather boots and rushed downstairs, grabbing his winter coat as he sped toward the back doors. Slipping outside, he buttoned his coat and breathed in deeply, his lungs prickling with the shock of the wintry air.
Eyes scanning his surroundings, he followed her footsteps, clearly visible in the powdery snow, until he came around the tall hedge encircling the gardens and almost ran into her.
Shocked, he stumbled backwards as did she, her dark green eyes wide as she gasped for breath, a hand clutched to her chest in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” he assured her, his heart racing in his chest.
A soft laugh escaped her lips as she shook her head. “There’s no need.”
For a second, he met her gaze, and she looked at him openly before her features suddenly darkened and she swallowed, averting her eyes. Brushing non-existent snowflakes off her long overcoat, she turned back to the garden. “It’s beautiful, is it not?” she said, her voice soft as though she didn’t have the courage to speak up. “I love this house in winter. Everything seems so magical.”
“It does indeed.” Fighting the urge to return to the house, William fell into step beside her as she proceeded down the path. “Winter has always been my favourite season. It transforms everything as though the world itself has changed, and yet, underneath it is still the same.”
“Like people,” she whispered, and William thought to hear a hint of hope in her voice. Was she thinking about him and her sister?
Clearing his throat, William thought there was no use in putting off the inevitable any longer. He needed to speak to her, and this was the perfect opportunity. “How is Catherine?”
As though startled, she turned to face him, her eyes slightly widened as she looked at him.
He smiled at her apologetically. “To be honest, I followed you today because I wanted to speak with you.”
“With me?”
He nodded. “My brother believes that you are the key to my memories,”
he said, shrugging his shoulders, the hint of a timid smile on his face.
She frowned. “But what can I do?”
“You could tell me about your sister,” William said, his voice hesitant, and he held his breath as he waited for her answer.
For a long moment, she looked at him, her unbelievably green eyes unguarded as she searched his face. “You remember nothing of her,” she whispered then, and it wasn’t a question.
William sighed, then shook his head. “I do not,” he admitted, “but I wish I did.”
A soft smile curled up her lips, and for a second, she seemed delighted.
Breathing a sigh of relief, William asked, “Will you tell me about her?”
“I will.”
***
With her heart hammering in her chest, Catherine led her husband down the snow-covered path that wound through the expansive gardens. Although she had spent all night tossing and turning, dreading the moment she would have to face him−as her sister no less−she now felt an excitement that reminded her of the early days of their acquaintance.
While supper the night before had been painful, this morning felt rather promising. Believing her to be her sister, her husband’s eyes did not hold the same pain and anguish that she had seen there before. Instead, he appeared mostly confused, and yet, intrigued with the parts of his life he did not remember.
“What would you like to know?” she asked.
William shrugged. “How would you describe her?”
Blushing slightly at the thought of providing a description of herself, Catherine smiled, reminding herself that at least for the moment, she was the socially confident, vivacious sister. “Well, let me think. Catherine…and I are both loyal and devoted and hold family above all else. That we have in common,” she said smiling, and she could see the tension leave his face as she continued on. “However, we’ve always been rather different with regard to temperament. While Catherine is a sociable person, she prefers the quiet company of a few good friends. She is not shy, but rather not as loud as me. She loves the outdoors and the peace and quiet she finds there.”