As I Lay Dying

Twenty two

I take the paper from him and it occurs to me that I have no address. I belong nowhere. After a moments pause I write down the address for Ashbury manor. If I ever had a home that was it, although I have no idea if I'd be welcome to return.

"I'll write to you when I get to England." I say. He gives me a strange smile before reaching over and clasping my arm.

"Good luck Harry, wherever your path takes you, I wish you happiness all of your days."

"And I too you."

He nods and I watch his lean frame as it moves down the sunlit ward. He turns back at the door and I'm sure I see his cheeky grin aimed at me one last time before he's gone.

I'm left with a strange hollow feeling. Somehow it feels like that is the last I'll ever see of him.

***

Evelyn

It's strange how somewhere that you've grown to love can change. All it takes is a single incident. A single presence and it no longer feels like your safe haven anymore.

My entire life I'd known luxury beyond measure, but I realise now that my small, sparse nurses lodgings have felt more luxurious than the manor in which I grew up, or the huge townhouse with servants in which I lived with Robert. Despite the hard, gruesome work, I've never been so unconstricted, I've had prove myself for the first time in my life. My name, family and title mean nothing here and that's freedom in itself. A beautiful bird in a golden cage is still a prisoner compared to a common starling.

But Roberts presence in my room has changed it. I can see it how it must look to him, grey and cold. His lip curled in distaste when he entered. Of course, he doesn't see the other side of the life I live here but it's no use explaining it to him.

I'd half expected him to force himself upon me the moment he arrived, or to shout or make a scene, but to my surprise he has barely spoken in the last two hours. The acrid smell of his endless cigarettes has fills my room, making it seem even less mine.

He's spent the entire time staring at me and I can't read the expression on his face, but it makes me unsettled nevertheless.

"Evelyn." My name sounds strange on his lips. I look up at him and to my surprise he seems to be weighing up his words carefully.

"You should know I never wanted it to be like this." I sit stiffly, waiting for him to go on, wondering what mind game he's playing now. He frowns at me before continuing. "I never imagined myself in a marriage with a woman who obviously hates me so deeply."

You made me hate you.

I don't say this but the image of the many nights he forced himself on to me, the cruel words and games, the way he snatched Bobby from me races through my mind and bitterness rises in my chest.

"You came into our marriage pregnant with another mans child. I saw him riding you like a common whore in that tiny servants cottage of his." He says bitterly. "Worse than that, you never gave me a chance. You loved him with everything you had and there was nothing left for me. It wasn't what I had envisioned of marriage and I daresay it wasn't what you'd dreamt of either."

I stare down at the threadbare rug at my feet. He seems to be expecting me to answer, so with courage I didn't know I had I speak, fighting to keep my voice level.

"You knew this before we married. You married me to repay your debts and you knew nothing would change after. You've given me no reason to feel any softness towards you." My voice trembles.

"True." There's that edge, the side of him that he can't suppress. "But you haven't made this easy. I married a beautiful well bred woman, it could all have been so different. If you'd have shown me any trace of the affection you reserved for him..."

The silence hangs heavy between us.

"War is hell. Sheer hell, Evelyn. I think we all lose sight of who we are, but perhaps also reflect on who we became and what we really were."

He stands and I flinch but he doesn't move towards me.

"I wish it had been different." He says simply.

He lights another cigarette and I state down at the floor, wondering if I dare ask it.

"I've asked that you be moved to camp nearer where I am situated." He says eventually.

I glance up at him and the only thing I hear from that is that I'll be nearer to Harry. Blood pulses through my ears and I open my mouth to speak but he cuts me off.

"Private Styles took a shrapnel wound that became infected." He says coldly.

I nod as if this is unimportant to me but my mind is racing. I feel sick with worry.

"Evelyn." Something in voice makes me look, for the first time, into those cold, handsome features. He's gazing at me with an odd expression.

"Styles didn't make it. He died two days ago."

***

Dedicated to @Rachel99xoxo Thanks for reading and your kind comments ❤️