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Chapter 11
Lucas wasn’t surprised to seethat Isaac and Thomas had joined his father and him in the study.
Thomas immediately went to a side table and poured himself a healthy measure of brandy. “Anyone else interested?” he asked. No one was, so he replaced the stopper of the decanter and took a seat in one of the leather chairs near the fireplace.
“It is good to have you back home, Lucas,” his father began after they were all seated. “Your brothers and I have a keen interest to hear about your experiences fighting Napoleon, but those are not topics for the tender ears of our ladies. Perhaps we should have allowed you some time at home before having this conversation. But I think it is altogether better that we discuss things now and put our questions to rest.”
“We are anxious to know whether our brother returns to us whole,” Isaac said.
“There have been others in the district who have returned to their families but are no longer . . . themselves,” Thomas added. “That knowledge has had us concerned for your well-being. And when you were reluctant to return to Alderwood—”
“You feared the worst,” Lucas said.
“We werehopefulyou were well,” his father corrected. “But we could not be certain until we saw you for ourselves.”
“And now?”
“I am still hopeful,” his father said.
“What can you tell us?” Isaac said. “I ask, not only to assure myself as your brother, but also as your vicar and spiritual advisor. I wish to be of service to you, if needed.”
“Thank you, Isaac, but truly, I am well enough. Each man’s experience is his own, and he must reconcile it within himself the best he can. Those who cannot reconcile it deserve compassion and support. No one who experiences war firsthand comes out of it unscathed. It changes him—and her—for better or for worse.”
He stood and wandered over to the table with the decanter. He removed the stopper and sniffed the contents. Drink had deadened many of his friends’ anguish, but Lucas himself had not found it effective. “We may speak at length about the honor of fighting for one’s country and the glories that come with victory, but honor and glory come at great cost to the soldier. There is a brutality—” Lucas stopped speaking and replaced the stopper. Outside the study window, birds were singing. The sound seemed ludicrous.
“There is a brutality I would not wish to impart on any of you, for even to speak of it gives it continued life. Suffice it to say, I did my utmost to sustain life in the midst of so much suffering and death. I was blessed to find a friend in Lord Halford early on. We kept each other alive and in relatively good spirits for seven years. And when he was gravely wounded, I felt a need and obligation to stay at his side until I got him safely back to England and was assured of his continuing health.”
“At the expense of your own family’s concern for you,” Thomas said.
“I knew I was well enough, Thomas, and I had been informed through letters that my family was well enough too. Should you have had me leave my friend and fellow soldier under such circumstances? Do you take issue with my judgment in the matter?”
“Of course, we don’t,” his father said. “Come, sit down, Lucas. We are merely trying to understand and assure ourselves.”
“You are different,” Thomas said.
“As are you,” Lucas replied. “But then one would expect change after the course of seven years.” He briefly fought temptation within himself and lost. “How is Isobel? She looks in good health.” He shouldn’t have asked or even spoken her name aloud. Thomas had learned of Lucas and Isobel’s attachment after the nuptials, when Lucas had announced his enlistment in the army and the reason for it had become apparent.
“She is, thank you,” Thomas said.
“And Clara, Isaac?” Lucas asked, hoping to cover his lack of discretion.
“Clara is quite well, although somewhat peaked these days. She is increasing again. Our fifth child.”
“Four children already and another on the way. You’re building nearly as big a brood as Mama and Father did.”
“God willing,” Isaac said. “The children are with Thomas and Isobel’s two up in the nursery.”
“Now that you have assured us that you are well,” his father said, “perhaps you can enlighten us regarding your friends, among whom is a young lady youreferred to as your betrothed.”
Three pairs of nearly identical eyes looked fixedly at him, awaiting his response. Lucas’s neckcloth suddenly felt tight, but he resisted the urge to tug at it.
“I am the luckiest of men to have had Lavinia accept my proposal of marriage,” he began. “We met in London.” He’d been in London for a few months now—plenty of time to meet a young lady, court her, and propose.
“Your letters to your mother never mentioned her,” his father said.
“What man writes to his mother of such things?” Lucas responded.
“Good point,” Isaac said. “I didn’t write to Mama about Clara either.”
