✔️ shadows of desire | downton abbey

chapter 28

June, 1918

The small nurse tent in France was a cacophony of sounds—the sharp rustling of canvas flaps, the distant echo of gunfire, and the muffled groans of the wounded. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic, sweat, and the unmistakable hint of fear that seemed to cling to every surface. It was a world of chaos and courage, a makeshift sanctuary in the midst of hell.

"Hey, English girl!" barked the matron, her voice sharp enough to cut through the noise.

I groaned inwardly, bracing myself for the inevitable. "My name's Eden!" I shouted back, exasperation lacing my tone. "When will you get that through your thick skull?"

"Listen here, Aiden," she retorted, storming over with an air of authority. Her footsteps were heavy, resonating against the wooden floorboards. "There are a hundred women who want to help the war effort. Now get on with your work." With that, she shoved me, sending me stumbling to the floor.

I quickly regained my balance, pushing my dark hair away from my face, the sweat beading on my forehead as I moved toward my next patient. The tent was dim, lit by the flickering light of an oil lamp that cast wavering shadows on the canvas walls. I knelt beside a soldier whose eyes were clouded with pain. His limb had been lost to the chaos of battle—an all-too-common sight in this makeshift hospital.

"Eden, what do you think?" another nurse asked, her voice low as she cleaned the tools around us.

I examined the soldier carefully. "What? I mean it's clear as day he's missing a limb. We need to send him to a convalescent home," I replied, trying to keep my tone professional. "Sir, what's your name and where are you from?"

He looked up at me, his green eyes glimmering with an intensity that reminded me of the verdant fields of home. "Raphael... Raphael More," he whispered, his voice strained, and then he coughed, a rattle that echoed in the small space.

"You're from the village?" I asked, surprised. "Me too." A small smile crept across my face, though it faded as I recalled the circumstances that had brought us here.

"I just disinfected the wound and put on a dressing to keep it sterile. You'll need to fill out a form for his transfer," the other nurse instructed, her tone all business.

I focused on wrapping his wound, my fingers deft as I worked. Despite the grim situation, his eyes never left me, a flicker of warmth amid the harsh reality. "You're pretty," he whispered, admiration mixed with pain.

"Thank you," I said, a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

"Are you still available?" he asked, hope edging into his voice.

I sighed, my heart momentarily aching. "No, I'm engaged. He's fighting at the front," I explained, the love for Matthew flooding my senses, a bittersweet reminder of what awaited me back home.

"God, this man is very lucky," he sighed, a shadow passing over his face.

I nodded, a bittersweet smile forming. "Not sure if I am the lucky one," I mused, recalling the warmth of Matthew's embrace.

"Why?" he pressed, curiosity sparkling in his green eyes. "What's your secret, pretty girl?"

"I was a servant, he the heir," I said softly, "But he saw beyond it."

He nodded, as if processing my words. "You remind me of someone. What's your name?"

"Eden Barrow, why?" I asked, intrigued by the sudden change in his demeanor.

His expression shifted, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. "I know you. It's me, Raphael. I took your doll when we were children, and your older brother almost broke my nose."