The Soldier's Poisoned Heart

Lydia’s expression went through a thousand transformations all at once, looking from Simon to John Paul and back, happiness and confusion and relief simmering across her features for a moment before she turned and stumbled back out the door, nearly tripping over herself.

“She’s pleased to hear the news, I see,” Simon said, turning back to John Paul.

“So you didn’t tell her I would be coming?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise! Happy surprises are the best surprises.”

“I suppose they are.”

The two men sat in the room and waited, both silently lost in their thoughts, but both of them watching the door to see if Lydia would reappear. After a while, when she hadn’t, Simon rose and reached out a hand to John Paul.

“Come on, now; join me in the dining room. The other guests will be arriving soon.”

John Paul took his hand, but stood under his own strength; he followed the younger man a bit further down the hall, which opened up to two large tables, each set for eight. Simon pulled out a chair at the foot of the table, and made a gesture for John Paul to sit down, then took the head for himself. He sat down gingerly; whether he was comfortable sitting there or not, the Colonel couldn’t tell, but clearly Simon was unused to it in either case.

After a few minutes, a knock at the door, and a couple was guided in, the man several years John Paul’s senior, while the woman may have been Nan’s age. The two men already seated stood to greet them;

“Mister and missus Raymond, I’m so glad you could come. This is our guest, Colonel—it is Colonel? Yes? Good—John Paul Foster, who is joining us today. He’s a very good customer, and has been spending time with our Lydia of late, before the terrible accident. Colonel, this is Mister Timothy Raymond, who runs the lumber mill that supplies our humble shop, and his lovely wife Martha.”

“How do you do,” John Paul said automatically. Chairs were pulled out for the new guests, who sat down.

“Are you English, mister Foster? Or…”

“Yes,” John Paul answered. “I had the honor of serving Her Majesty overseas for several years, and the local accent seems to have touched my voice a little bit.”

“So then, what do you think—” Timothy Raymond’s line of questioning was cut off when his wife gave him a firm glare.

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” John Paul said softly.

The family slowly filtered down, and another few guests arrived, mostly friends of the late Mister Wakefield. The dinner itself, John Paul noted, was quite good. He found himself quite the celebrity, whether for his accent or his military background, or merely that he was nearer in age and experience to the guests than any of the Wakefields. Lydia came down last of all.

She had a curious aspect, and when she came to the table she touched John Paul’s hand as she passed. He could feel his face flush, and knowing looks from the Raymonds made him flush harder.

The dinner, after that, was nearly impossible to get through. Somehow he managed it, though with plans made for Lydia to come out to his home for supper a few days after, to meet Henry properly.

Part 3

Chapter 11

The days that followed ground slowly by. John Paul told his nephew that he’

d have a guest over on the fourth; Henry gave no indication if he concerned himself with it in the days that followed. He spent most of his time doings Lord-knows-what.

John Paul saw him for the most part at meal-times, though he regularly looked throughout the estate, checking on progress of the various jobs around. The repaneling of the floors on the third floor progressed nicely, he thought.

The new floors were absolutely perfect, he thought, though the workers were careful to remind him that there was considerable work left to do even once it was finished being laid. They would have to sand it, seal it… the Colonel listened, but a good deal of it went in one ear and out the other. By the time that the fourth came, they had laid nearly the entire third floor.

The men didn’t need him to sit there and babysit them; John Paul knew after only a couple of days. There was nothing up there to steal, and they knew their trade well enough that he didn’t need to supervise them. But he found himself enjoying the time he spent watching them, so he stood by the stairs where he would be as out of the way as can be expected and watched.

After lunch he made sure to remind Thomas for the third time that day that they’d have a couple of guests over, so he should be sure to make supper impressive and sizeable. The cook let him talk. Mister Foster was visibly nervous, so it was no skin off his back to let him complain.

Lydia arrived at five o’clock. Henry was sitting in a chair, reading a magazine, and John Paul was alternately standing by the window and pacing the floor.

“Sit down, Uncle,” Henry said softly. “There’s no reason to be nervous.”

John Paul ignored him and continued pacing when a knock came on the door. He crossed the room in the space of a breath and opened it to find a pair of women on his doorstep. He held the door open for them.

“Ah! You’re here, wonderful,” he said. “Do come in.”