Henrietta

~Prologue~

There was nothing more he detested than feeling regret overshadow him when things went terribly wrong. He loathed the feel of its burning irritating shadow loom over him, breaking down his pride and severity. He could feel his wife's body slowly turning cold in his arms as he dared to look down to her crystal blue eyes. The breath of life had gone from her body but the fear had never left her eyes. He dared to stare into them, the unforgettable pain branding itself deep in his heart. His fingers trailed down her pale cheek brushing away the tears she had shed not too long ago.

Her golden cascade of hair sprawled over his arm in a tangled mess. It was more than he could bear holding her in his arms for the last time in this manner. Calvin felt his stomach turn as he stood with Lydia in his arms. He settled her unto the bed, placing her arms neatly unto her stomach and gently he closed her eyes. Reaching for the wrinkled sheets at the foot of the bed, he draped them over her body.

The child's cries drew him back into reality as he settled the white blanket over her face. Slowly he swept his eyes to where the small child whimpered as it lay nestled in a warm teal blanket not a few feet from him. He pushed his posture to stand straight and he walked towards his son lying in his small cradle.

Calvin placed both hands at each side of the child's face who still it laid covered in the thick muck of labor. His eyes teared once again and his lip quivered as he lifted him into his arms and nestled him against his cheek. The child seemed to find comfort in the action that his father exposed and only hiccupped as his cries subsided. He had lost his wife but had gained a life in return. His warm tears spilled as he slowly closed his eyes to feel his son whimper and grunt in discomfort. So many painful truths began to settle in him as the realization of having to raise his son on his own devastated him.

The thought of his son without the warmth of his mother stabbed at his inner soul, shattering what little pride he had left. When the child began to weep once again Calvin settled him down unto the small cradle and gently slipped his hand from under his small form. He sighed and lowered his head, closing his eyes tight before wiping his tears away. He then turned to look at his wife, his pain clearly expressed as he inhaled lightly.

"I will not fail you Lydia...our son will be raised properly, I promise," he muttered.

The moment was lost as a light knock echoed through the room forcing him to march and open the door. Hesitating to grasp at the handle, Calvin made certain to overshadow his pain with a stern gaze before opening the door. The master of the house was never to be seen in such a vulnerable manner, he would not give a low life the satisfaction.

He forced his hand to turn the knob and pull the door open. Calvin glared at the Doctor as his frail and withered face shyly looked away before attempting to speak.

"Master Po...," Doctor Thaddeus began.

"Call for a carriage, have my wife's corpse cleaned and prepared for tomorrow morning, understood?" Calvin addressed.

"But with this awful weather, it won't be until morning to get a carriage to come," he protested.

The child began to cry louder and it stabbed Calvin deep inside to hear him weep and not have the comfort of his mother. Then a maid rushed in not a moment longer, her small frame quickly walking past Calvin without a word. She reached out to embrace the baby in her arms cooing him, so that he would refrain from weeping.

"Have my son cleaned as well and ready for bed," he said to the maid. His eyes did little to help see who she was for neither did he care nor wondered as she nodded and quickly walked past him.

"Do what is needed to make him feel comfortable, I will be in my study, and Doctor, do not disappoint me," he growled in a low tone to the old man.

Calvin walked out without a second glance to neither his wife's dead body, nor his child as he strode out of the large chamber and closed the door behind him. For only a moment he placed a hand to cover his brow and sighed, feeling the pain rip through him, threatening to weaken him yet again. Taking a deep breath, he let it out unevenly and sough his study so that he could barricade himself and wallow in his misery the only way a man knew how.

Drink.

So closing the door quietly he settled behind his large massive desk and rested his elbows over it, caring little for manners now. His large hands fisted and he squeezed his eyes tight letting the painful weak emotion tare through him. Calvin wept and deemed he had no more strength as he let his silent sobs fill the large study. A shadow of depression loomed over him as he fisted the large glass of liquor in his hands. Many memories played in his mind, memories of Lydia. Her laughter, smile, fragile skin, and how he knew it would haunt him knowing he would never be able to caress it, to feel its warmth. He shivered as he pushed out of the large chair and pressed the bottle of alcohol to his lips that would turn him mindless in little to no time. Without the use of a glass, he simply poured the russet liquid into his mouth straight out of the bottle and gulped it, in hopes of soon creating an eclipse inside his mind that would overshadow his pain.