When Hope is Gone

Chapter 3

        Callie sat on the same park bench on which she had sat everyday for the past month. This had become her routine: sleep as long as she could into the morning, dress while Giles politely turned away any visitors, and walk out to the park with her maid where she would sit on this same park bench and stare at the water in the pond as Marie fed the ducks stale bread.

            She sighed and dropped her head into her hands.

            “What am I doing, Marie?” Callie asked, her voice muffled by her gloves.

            “We are sitting in the park, same as we do everyday, Ma’am.” Marie answered, casting a sideways glance at her strange mistress.

            “I mean here, Marie, here in the park. Why do I come here everyday?”

            “I—“ Marie started but did not know what to say.

            Callie stood up and patted her faithful servant on the arm. “Of course you do not have to answer that. I am just musing out loud. I started coming here to avoid the visitors but there are so few of them these days. Would you like to start back to the house?”

            Marie looked at her mistress in surprise but packed up their things anyway.

            Callie smiled slowly, a smile that just tipped the sides of her lips but did not extend to her eyes.

            Giles opened the door to the two women; surprised to see them back so much earlier than usual.

            “It is good to see you back so soon, ma’am. The morning mail has just arrived.” He took Callie’s pelisse and bonnet, then handed her the stack of letters.

            Marie just smiled at him then went back to the servants’ quarters to put away Callie’s and her things.

            Callie walked into the sitting room, reading through the addresses of her letters, followed by a very surprised butler.

            She sat on the settee, ordered tea, and set to reading her mail, completely oblivious to the uproar she was causing in the house with her uncharacteristic behaviors. One letter in particular stood out to her because it was very official looking and so she left it for last, not wanting to hear any more bad news. Instead, what she found inside was an invitation to the official memorial service for her husband and for all of the other hundreds of dead at Trafalgar.

            Callie took a deep breath and set down the letter, waiting for the tears to come. They did not this time. Perhaps she really had run out of tears to shed for her husband.

            When Giles came back with the tea service, he found his mistress standing at the window, looking out without really seeming to see anything and a letter in her hand.

            “Mrs. Atherton?” He asked cautiously.

            “Mmm?” She murmured and then started. “Oh, yes, tea.” She walked over to Giles and handed him the invitation. “Could you tell the driver that I shall be attending this service and so to have the carriage cleaned and ready by then?”

            “Of course, ma’am.” Giles took the letter, bowed, and was gone. 

***

            “Perfect!” Wilson cried while John glared at him from two yards away.

            “It is not perfect and you are a bloody idiot.”

            Wilson laughed but stood his ground.

            The men were outside of John’s London townhouse, walking along the street. They had just walked to the local teashop and were now coming home, slowly.

            John walked slowly, leaning heavily on a tall, wooden cane. He was still trying to find a rhythm with the cane that would allow him to move more confidently and without so much trouble.

            When he finally reached the stairs, he held up his free hand to stop Wilson from saying anything else he thought might be helpful.

            “Just…do not speak,” he growled.

            Wilson laughed again and hopped up the stairs to open the door before John could.

            Once they were inside, John settled into the sofa in the sitting room and stretched out his leg before him.

            “So,” Wilson started from the armchair adjacent to the sofa, trying to contain his excitement, “when do you want the carriage to come for the memorial service on the morrow?”

            John sighed, “You already have the whole day planned so why don’t you just go and order it yourself?”

            Wilson smiled widely and was gone as quick as a flash.

            John groaned and reached down to massage his throbbing leg muscles.