Chapter 11

"A visitor?" William frowned as he was sitting in his study. He couldn't imagine anyone from the village coming to see him. There was a higher chance of snow in June. "Does he have a name?"

"I asked for it," Mr. Hancock said apologetically, "but he said that he would rather keep it a surprise; that he is an old friend of Your Grace."

William sighed. He didn't know that he still had any friends left. That was news to him. "Fine," he nodded, deciding to take a chance on whoever it was. "Show him in, Mr. Hancock."

"Yes, Your Grace," Mr. Hancock nodded politely, then left the room and William lingering in his own doubts regarding the identity of the mysterious visitor.

As the door to his study opened once more several moments later, William's eyes befell a familiar figure. He blinked heavily, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him or not.

"Stephen?" he called out, a broad smile spreading across his face. "Is that really you?"

Stephen's own face lit up upon seeing him. "William, my old friend!" The man strode forward, clasping William's hand firmly, locking his eyes with William's. "It has been far too long."

"Indeed, it has," William agreed, his heart lifting at the sight of his friend. "I… I don't even know where to begin. My mind is swarming with all sorts of questions, and I don't know which one to ask first."

"I know the feeling," Stephen replied with a grin. He began to look around the opulently furnished study, his eyes taking in the rich tapestries, the ornate furniture, the tomes of priceless books resting on the shelves. "You've done well for yourself, William. It must be quite something to have all of this in the palm of your hand."

William hesitated, caught off guard by the comment, knowing all the events that had led to him becoming the duke and inheriting all of those riches. He forced a polite smile, offering a response. "Not all that shines is gold, my friend. Despite what you might think, I am not in a position many would be envious of."

Stephen continued, seemingly oblivious to William's discomfort. "But still, it looks like it all turned out well for you. You came back from the war just a little over a year ago, with a few scars, and now you're the duke."

William's expression darkened. He didn't like where this was going. He was surprised to hear his friend talk in such a manner. He felt a sudden wave of anger and sorrow intertwined as it rose inside of him, but he struggled to keep his voice steady. "Stephen, I only became the duke because my father and brother died. I wouldn't say things turned out that well at all."

He couldn't believe that he actually had to say that aloud. He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut, forcing the air out of his lungs, making it increasingly more difficult to breathe. That was when Stephen's face fell, and he took a step back, raising his hand in a gesture of apology, only then realizing the gravity of his words.

"I'm so sorry, William. That… was a thoughtless comment. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that… you look well and I'm happy to see you settled like this," Stephen clarified.

The unexpected tension in the room was palpable, but William took a deep breath in an effort to clear his mind. He tried to remind himself that Stephen was an old friend. He couldn't have meant what he said. It was merely the longevity of the time they had spent apart and the sudden awkwardness which sometimes led people to say things in a way they didn't mean. That had to be it.

"I appreciate the sentiment, old boy," William nodded. "It's just been a difficult adjustment."

Stephen nodded; his eyes filled with genuine remorse. "Of course, Will. I didn't mean to undermine the depth of your loss. It is good to see you again, truly. And I hope that we can put this foolishness behind us."

William managed a faint smile. "Consider it forgotten. It is good to see you as well, Stephen. Let us sit down and catch up. There is much to discuss, and I could use the company of an old friend." He proceeded to get up and walk over to the cellarette, opening the door and revealing an array of crystal decanters. "Would that old friend accept a glass of brandy?"

"That sounds splendid," Stephen replied, his smile widening.

William selected a decanter and poured two generous measures of brandy into crystal glasses. He handed one to Stephen before settling back into his chair with his own glass. They raised their glasses in a silent toast before taking a sip.

"To old friends," William announced.

Stephen nodded with a smile. "To old friends."

They both took a sip, savoring the taste. William then leaned forward; curiosity evident in his expression. "Stephen, what have you been up to? I must admit that I had heard recently that you were back in England, safe. And I did receive your letter, but I didn't know where to write back."

Stephen nodded. "That is understandable. After you left France, upon hearing the news about your father and brother, things became a bit… chaotic."

William nodded, a shadow of regret crossing his face. "I lost touch with so many of my comrades after I left. It all happened so quickly, and I had to return here to… well, to assume the duties that fell upon me." He paused, then added sincerely. "I truly am glad that you are here now, safe and sound."

Stephen's eyebrows rose, then fell back to their rightful place as the man brought the glass to his lips, emptying it completely. William waited to hear his response, which was obviously coming.

"Safe and sound… you know, that is all I wished for during my time as a hostage."

"Hostage?" William echoed, swallowing heavily.

He had no idea. Then again, he knew nothing of his old friends from the war. They could have all been dead, and he wouldn't know. The thought momentarily made him profoundly sad, how life had a way of separating those who kept each other alive in the direst of circumstances. Now they were strangers. In fact, he wondered if he would be able to recognize a single soldier from his regiment if he passed them on the street. Hardly likely.

"Yes," Stephen confirmed, bringing William back to the present moment. "I was captured by the French."

William's eyes were still wide with shock. "Stephen, I… I'm so sorry to hear that. That must have been a dreadful ordeal."

Stephen nodded, his expression darkening. "It was a trying time, but eventually a hostage trade was arranged, and I was released."

William leaned forward; concern etched on his face. "I can't even begin to imagine what that must have felt like, what relief to have that happen. But… how?"

Stephen shrugged. "You never question fate. Or matters of the state," he added with a grin.

William knew that it was simply a strategy of self-defense. Talking about the horrors of the war was the most difficult thing one could endure, especially in such dire circumstances as being held hostage. His heart ached for his friend who must have lost a part of his sanity during that ordeal.

"Are you all right now?" William asked a simple question which never had a simple answer.

Stephen offered a tight smile, avoiding William's gaze. "I am here, aren't I? That is all that matters."

Immediately sensing Stephen's reluctance to delve into the details, William decided not to pry. After all, this was supposed to be a happy reunion. Only, for soldiers, every reunion was a bittersweet one.

"Of course," William agreed. "I am just glad you are safe now. If you ever need to talk about what happened, you know I am here."

Stephen nodded, his smile returning, albeit faintly. "Thank you, William. Your concern means a lot." He looked at his empty glass, and William immediately jumped to his feet.

"May I offer you another one?" he suggested.

"No, thank you," Stephen shook his head, following suit and getting up himself. "I should be going. I didn't mean to take up much of your time, anyway."

"Nonsense," William assured him. "You just arrived and surely you have some stories to share from your time after I left."

Stephen nodded. "Oh, I have plenty of stories. Some are best saved for another time, though."

"Why don't you stay the night, Stephen? We have plenty of room here, and it would be wonderful to spend some time together."

Stephen shook his head with a regretful smile. "I appreciate the offer, Will, but I have some business to attend to nearby, which I have been putting off long enough. However, since I will be in the area, I promise to visit again in the next few days." He offered William his hand, and William could see that no matter what he said, Stephen would not be staying. "It was truly nice to see you again, Will."

"You, too, Stephen," William nodded, shaking his friend's hand. "I will be waiting for your visit, then."

As Stephen departed, William watched him go, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. The encounter had stirred an entire array of emotions, relief, guilt, and a lingering sense of disquiet.

Returning to his writing table, William sat down heavily in his chair. How could he have not known that his friend was captured? The thought gnawed at him, filling him with a deep sense of regret. He should have written, should have stayed in touch. The war had taken so much from so many. Now, more than ever, he realized the importance of holding on to those who remained.