Felicity lay across her bed and stroked the tattered and creased letter, its edges still forming a square, the way Tommy liked to fold them. Emotion surged through her, but she didn't have any more tears. They had fallen, all night, till she had none left. A new day was beginning and the yellows and pinks of its greeting was filtering through her windows.
Her fingers traced over the small smudges that mired the paper. Tommy's hands had touched it...and that connection gave her comfort. Did he send her yet another chapter of their adventure? They called his descriptions of places he was seeing for the first time and where Felicity would never go...their adventure. His way of keeping her from dwelling on her fears for his safety. She knew what he was doing...what he had been doing for her and she loved him even more for doing it. He was being Tommy. He was taking care of her. Shielding her. From the first moment they met, Tommy had welcomed her into his family and into his heart and she could not have wished for a better friend and brother. He was not her brother in blood, but he had been one in every other amazing way.
"What adventure have you sent me this time, Tommy," she sat up, unfolded the letter, and felt the warmth of the sun's rays as the room filled with them.
###
Waterloo April 1815
Dearest Felicity,
There has not been much beauty to tell you of. The rains have not stopped for days and if I were to never see mud again, I would be very, very happy. Many of us are terribly homesick. We all find commonality in that, as we share our memories of family and our wishes for tomorrow.
Tell me things of home.
Tell me about your days. I long to hear of the every day. What flowers are in bloom on your long walks? How is mother and her embroidery? And Oliver, what news do you have of him?
Oliver.
He has been on my mind a great deal lately, as have you.
As the men around me reminisce, whether it be of a sweetheart from home or just the visions of their homecomings, I feel, compelled, to share something with you and what you choose to take from it...I will leave up to you.
I know you do not see the same person in Oliver that I do, but permit me to tell you of a side of him, he would never dare reveal to you.
Sometimes, Felicity, people are far...more... than they allow others to see.
Oliver has...always, had a keen sense of what you like and what you, need. You have never known of his thoughtfulness, Felicity, but you have been surrounded by. So many of the things you hold dear...your beloved keepsake box, your abundant mix of books from astronomy to gothic mysteries, and even your very unique and special Artemis. It was, Oliver. With a gentle suggestion here or there to mother or I and...happiness was given. Why do you think this is so?
I tell you this now….for I need you to see him now. A man, who cares for you. The full extent of his care...well, I hope you both have the courage to find out.
I have meddled enough, have I not? Writing this letter to you has brightened my spirits as it always tends to do.
I must go now, my friend. Try not to worry for me.
I adore you, Felicity. Be happy.
Tommy
####
Felicity looked around her bedroom and in every corner of her sanctuary was the beloved items Tommy had mentioned. All of them. And something new. She stared at the tea cup by the side of her bed...he knew exactly how she took her tea...
"Oliver?" She whispered out loud, as her confusion and disbelief slowly unraveled, from years of her memories, till they...disappeared and were replaced with...a feeling of warmth, both beautiful and terrifying, that spread through her entire being until it reached, her heart. Their uncomfortableness around each other had always clouded how she saw him and now, there were, no more clouds. Just clarity.
Footsteps and hushed voices rushed past her door. Felicity got up from her bed and opened the door to see Lizzie and one other maid, towels and wash pans in hand, hastening down the hallway. Something was wrong.
She followed and watched them enter the Countess' bedroom. Her stomach turned as she walked in after them and heard Oliver's voice.
"There will be no blood letting,"
"But my Lord, you must allow me to do my job," replied the old family physician as he and Oliver stood off to the side. The Duchess, small and frail, lay in the middle of her huge bed and struggled through a fitful sleep. Tendrils of her hair matted against the heat of her feverish skin.
Felicity had had no idea this was happening. Dismay and then guilt and shame hammered at her. She should have known. Where was the Earl? There was only Oliver, bearing all this, alone. She looked back at him...and, saw him.
He had hastily changed clothing sometime in the night. He wore a loose white shirt over black breeches and riding boots. She saw his exhaustion, even more pronounced than the day before, and fear, yes, there was fear in his eyes that Felicity knew all too well. She had lost her father and stepmother to a horrible fever.
"While at University, I watched young, able bodied men weakened by leeches and I won't allow it done to my mother. Find another way,"
"Then all we can do is apply cool compresses to her head, behind her knees and nape. We will try to make her as comfortable as possible," replied the exasperated physician as he set his doctor's bag down on the bedside table then sat down and took hold of the Duchess' wrist and took her pulse rate. "Try to get her to take sustenance and then, time will tell,"
Felicity watched as Oliver's fingers subtly twisted the loose hem of his shirt as he stood listening to the doctors orders and a look of desperation, so fleeting she would not have seen it if she had not been staring, flashed across his face. He was hurting.
"Oliver, let me help. I'll have the cook make some broth for her," Felicity said as she instinctively reacted. She walked up to him and reached out and covered his fisted hand with hers. Stunned and surprised eyes met hers as his whole body froze at her unexpected presence and touch. What she had done, touching him and offering comfort and strength, was completely unexpected for her as well, and she started to step away.
"You shouldn't be here," was all he whispered as he let go of the hem of his shirt and opened his palm to envelope her hand and her comfort. His eyes, aflame with an emotion she didn't completely understand, but one that made her insides melt, her heart beat faster...and calmed her.
"Let me help you," she gently squeezed the fingers that encompassed hers; their hands now hidden under the folds of his shirt and away from prying eyes. Her entire world narrowed to this man in front of her and the rightness of the moment. She finally felt like she was, home.
