Chapter 25

Daniel

August 1863

A year had passed since that fateful visit to Oxford had uncovered the existence of Ambrose's daughter. Daniel had kept his promise to visit Emily and Lexie at odd times when he knew Ambrose would not be there. Often, he caught an earlier train from London on his return from the great metropolis, with the express purpose of spending time in Oxford with them.

He brought gifts with him, rattles and other small toys, delightful little outfits and books (for when she was older of course, he told the little girl). He spent hours playing with Emily, walking her in the gardens or singing her lullabies to put her to sleep. He could see so much of Ambrose in her—the grey eyes, the pouty mouth, the blond locks. It was obvious to all that he was smitten with this child.

Of course, Ambrose was well aware of his visits to Oxford. They could hardly be kept secret when his many gifts to Emily were strewn about the room. Ambrose had refrained from comment on the matter except for remarking once on the dangers of spoiling children, but Daniel had scoffed. If he wanted to buy Emily gifts, then he would. In any case, Daniel perceived that, despite his token protests, Ambrose was secretly pleased about the gifts.

Ambrose's friendship and the visits to Emily were the only bright spots on Daniel's horizon these days. They were the ones that kept him sane as the desperately worrying news trickled through from America. Sometimes, Daniel felt as if he existed in a vacuum from one letter that he received to the next. The war in America had been dragging on for over two years now, with little end in sight. Letters struggled to find their way to him. His parents wrote to him and so did Benjamin, but it took months sometimes for the missives to arrive. God knew how many were lost upon the way.

He worried constantly about his brother. He was alive still, in one piece, but that was all he knew. Benjamin's letters to him had become sparse and factual, sparing him very few details of his life. Daniel could only imagine what his circumstances truly were from piecing together information in newspaper reports. Late last month, news had come through of a large engagement of forces at Gettysburg. It was painted as a victory for the Union, pushing back the Confederacy's advance on Washington. Yet the news also told of mass casualties, soldiers on both sides perishing in their thousands.

Had Benjamin fought at Gettysburg? Was he one of those many thousand casualties? The worry gnawed at Daniel. Every day, he looked out for the post. Every day, he was disappointed.

Ambrose was the rock that sustained him in these difficult times. On days when worry consumed him, his friend listened in sympathy as he ranted and fulminated about how badly the war was being prosecuted. When letters came, he enquired about his family's news and gave sound counsel. When letters failed to arrive, he provided comfort and encouragement. What would he do without Ambrose? He had become his right hand, not just in the management of his estate affairs, but in nearly all aspects of his life.

This August morning was no different from most other mornings at Stanton Hall. He had awoken in a hot sweat, his covers kicked to the end of the bed. A sponge wash had cooled him down—just. Then, he had dressed and come down to the dining room for his breakfast. Isabella was already there, buttering a slice of toast. "Morning, Bella," he said, taking a seat. "Has the post arrived yet?"

"No, not yet," she replied. "I have a good lookout of the window from here, so I will see the mail coach when it arrives."

Disappointed, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then took his plate to the sideboard where a vast array of meats, eggs and cheeses were laid out. He served himself then returned to his seat and began to eat.

"Are you going to Netherwick Hall today?" he enquired of his sister.

"Yes," she said, taking a sip from her tea. "Ambrose is taking me there at nine o'clock. We will be showing the house to a prospective new tenant, Mr Wilson, a factory owner from Manchester who has retired on his riches and wishes to live the good life. I am told he is a widower with two young children. To be honest though, I am not sure that someone in trade will make an appropriate tenant for Netherwick Hall."

"And why should that matter?" rebuked Daniel. "I will have you remember, Bella, that your own father made his fortune through the toil of his hands."

"I am well aware of that," she countered, bristling at the reprimand. "It is not the same though. Papa was a gentleman to start with. I simply fear that this Mr Wilson may be vulgar and uncouth. Though Ambrose says that what matters most is the man's good character."

"He would be right!" concurred Daniel. "Has he checked this Mr Wilson's references? What do we know of this person?"

"It is all well in hand," said Isabella airily, "and for your information, Ambrose has made enquiries which have all checked out. Mr Wilson is a respectable business owner, a widower with two young children and a large fortune. These are the salient facts. We shall know the rest on meeting him today. Ambrose tells me it is important to trust one's instinct on meeting a person, as he believes that we can tell naturally if such a person is trustworthy or not."

"Ha!" said Daniel, much diverted. "I had not thought Ambrose to be one to believe in such things as instinct."

"Perhaps then you do not know him as well as you think," replied Bella tartly.

"You may be right," smiled Daniel. "I shall quiz him on it next I see him. And I wish you luck with Mr Wilson today."

She smiled back, mollified. "Thank you, Daniel." Something at the window caught her attention. "The mail coach is here," she said, jumping to her feet. "I shall go see if there is something arrived." With that, she hurried out of the room.

He continued to eat his breakfast, his heart pounding a little faster than usual as he set to hoping today would be the day some news of Benjamin finally came. He had just finished a slice of beef steak when the door flew open and Isabella rushed in. With shaking hands, she held three missives, all written in the same unmistakable scrawl. One for him, one for Bella and one for Sarah Cranshaw. Daniel broke the seal on his letter, his hands not shaking any less than Bella's, and pulled out one lone folded sheet. He read it quickly.

July 8th, 1863

Dear Daniel,

Perhaps you have already heard news of our latest engagement at Gettysburg. The Confederate advance towards Washington has been halted, and they are now in retreat. The price for this has been steep, with heavy loss of life on both sides, including, I am sad to say, our dear friend Jimmy, from a gun wound to the shoulder. Although the surgeon was able to extract the bullet, infection set in, followed by fever. He passed yesterday at noon and was buried this morning.

I am unharmed and returning to active duty with my regiment on the morrow. I hope you and Bella are well.

Your loving brother,

Benjamin Stanton

Daniel put the letter down, gulping air into his lungs. Benjamin was alive and well, but Jimmy, the stable boy who had joined the cavalry regiment with Benjamin, was dead. He looked across at Isabella, whose face was flooded with tears. "Jimmy is gone," he said.

She sniffed. "Yes, it says so in the letter. Poor Jimmy!" She wiped at her eyes and added, "Is it wicked of me to be relieved that it is him and not Ben that is gone?"

Daniel went to his sister, drawing her into the circle of his arms. "I had the very same thought," he said. "It is not a very Christian reaction, but it is understandable. I cannot tell you how relieved I am that Ben is unharmed."

"Me too," she mumbled into his chest.

"Benjamin's letter was so dry and factual. I do wonder why he is shutting us out and writing to us as if to strangers," he went on. "It pains me."

"I know," agreed Bella. "It pains me too."

Daniel spent the day veering between elation that his brother was still alive and being disconsolate at Jimmy's death and at the cold tone of Benjamin's letter. He wished he could repair his relationship with him, but he was powerless to do so until this war was over. It frustrated him to be in such an impotent position.

That afternoon, Ambrose came by to see him and bid him farewell before he travelled to Oxford, for it was a Friday, the day he went to visit his daughter. It was clear he had already heard the news about Benjamin from Bella. He knocked on the library door and came in, finding Daniel in his shirtsleeves, due to the heat, lounging on his favourite armchair by the open window, reading a book.

Daniel put the book down at Ambrose's entrance and watched his friend, face flushed from the summer heat, take a seat across from him. The ripe air carried a faint aroma of Ambrose's clean sweat mixed with his bergamot and orange scented cologne. It was a heady scent that made Daniel's cock perk up with interest. He willed it down the best he could and smiled at his friend. "Come to say goodbye?" he asked.

"Actually," said Ambrose, "I came to see how you are. Isabella told me about Benjamin, and your friend Jimmy. I was sorry to hear of his passing."

"I have been thinking of Jimmy all day," replied Daniel, "dredging up old memories of good times we spent together. He always wore a smile and never a word of complaint crossed his lips.

"A terrible waste of a good life," murmured Ambrose.

"Yes," sighed Daniel. "And then amidst the pain, there is also joy at the news that Ben is unharmed."

"Yes," agreed Ambrose. "That is a relief." They sat in companiable silence for a minute, then Ambrose went on, "I knew as soon as I heard the news that I would find you here, moping, and I do not like to leave you in such a state. Therefore, I have a suggestion. Will you come with me today to Oxford? We can visit Lexie, Edwin and Emily together. I am sure it will help cheer you up."

Hope rose in Daniel's chest. What he would give to spend time right now with Ambrose and Emily. Yet he hesitated, not wanting to be in the way. "You do not mind me being there with you?"

"Of course not," reassured Ambrose.

"I would not want to deprive you of, erm, the opportunity for intimacy with Lexie," mumbled Daniel.

Ambrose did not look at him as he said, "It is quite alright, Daniel. I visit every week and have many other opportunities for, erm, intimacy."

"In that case, I would be delighted to join you," smiled Daniel.