The nursemaid watches over the child. A boy with sandy blonde hair. His face adorned with a mottle of freckles. And eyes the color of deep emerald. His eyes. I observe him closely as he plays in the garden, beneath the shade of a dogwood tree. It feels as if an infinity of time and space separates us even though I’m but a few feet away. He turns his head and catches my gaze. A flash of a smile. Then he looks away. He doesn’t know me. I’m a stranger to him.

    “Victoria?” My sister calls from her place beside me.

    I look at her. “Hmm?”

    “Are you alright? You seem distracted today.”

    Nodding, I respond, “Quite alright.”

    It’s such a lie.

 

    As if before my very eyes, the little boy grows into a young man. Now he stands taller than myself. His blonde hair has grown long and has darkened. He ties it back, but his short bangs are always falling loose and covering his eyes. Those eyes which have remained ever the same. His eyes. I look into those emerald orbs and they become a looking glass to my past, a constant reminder of the life I lived and the life I lost.

    “Lady Victoria?” The boy says my name as he motions to my half-full plate. “Are you finished?”

    It’s so rare that I get to hear his voice, and even rarer that it’s directed at me. I savor the soft tenor, relish in the boyish tone that has yet to deepen into the tone of a man.

    I nod my head. “Yes, you may take my plate. Thank you, Adam.” He disappears into the kitchen, and I redirect my gaze to the others still eating their breakfasts.

    “Are you alright, dear?” A woman adorned in fine silks and pearl earrings asks. “You barely ate anything.”

    “Quite alright, Mother,” I respond with a sad smile. My heart feels heavy. I want nothing more than to vanish, to not have to suffer the concerned looks my family always seems to give me. “I think I’ll visit the stables this morning,” I add with some forced cheer. They know how happy the horses make me.

 

    Since I was old enough to think on my own, the stables have been my place of solace. My respite from the frivolous, silly world around me. A home away from home. The place I would go to get away from the etiquette classes and dancing lessons, endless afternoon teas, and embroidery sessions. The place where I would see him. Where I would eventually find solace in his arms.

    I enter. The earthy smell of horse mixed with the sweet aroma of fresh hay fills my nose, and I breathe it in. I’m alone.

    I brush the mane of my chestnut mare, whispering softly to the old companion of my youth. For as long as I can remember, I’ve told her every thought, every secret I’ve ever possessed. And she’s never told a single soul. “It’s lonely here without him,” I admit under my breath.

 

     Just then, I hear the doors close behind me, and I look up. My eyes widen and the brush falls from my hand and clatters on the cobblestone floor below. I grin and rush forward, flinging myself into his arms. “You’re back!” I exclaim.

    “I told you I would be,” he responds with a laugh and pulls me away so he can look at me. His coarse fingers stroke my soft skin. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

    I blush under his deep emerald gaze and turn away to finish grooming my mare. “You just say that because you’ve been gone so long. You probably forgot what I looked like.”

    “Never.” He approaches me and grabs hold of my hand, forcing me to a stop. “I missed you, milady.”

    I smile before turning to look at him. “Then don’t ever leave me again.”

    “I don’t plan on it.”

    Raising an eyebrow, I tease him. “Promise?”
    He pulls me closer to him. I close my eyes. “With all my heart,” he whispers before he touches my lips with his.

 

     I open my eyes. The phantom memory fades away, and my arms are empty. I feel so cold and alone. “So much for promises,” I mutter, before petting my horse one more time. For the first time in my life, the stables feel just as oppressive as everywhere else -- old memories grab me around the neck and squeeze. Suffocating me. I can’t breathe. So I leave.

    Turning the corner, I collide with a leather-clad chest.

    “I’m so sorry, milady,” a concerned voice says.

    I look up. My voice gets stuck in my throat, and I can’t speak. The boy stands before me, tall, handsome, and ever-growing.

    “Are you alright?” He asks. “I didn’t hurt you.”

    “No,” I choke out. “No, you could never hurt me.” My voice cracks as unbidden tears fill my eyes.

    The boy’s brows furrow with deep worry. “I did hurt you, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, milady. Please forgive me. It won’t happen again, I promise.” His hasty responses are filled with fear. Fear of repercussion. This realization cuts through me like a knife. I don’t ever want him to be afraid of me. Yet, his position as a servant requires it.

    I grab onto his arm. My body goes cold. This is the first time I’ve touched him in so long.

    A small bundle. Rose-red, chubby cheeks. Still and quiet, not a sound. Such a good little baby. I kiss his forehead, my tears drip down his nose. I wipe them away with a soft touch. It’s as if he’s a piece of china. I’m afraid he’ll crack under my fingertips.

    “Lady Victoria?” His voice brings me out my reverie.

    “Hmm?”

     His emerald eyes look at me with a strange expression and respond slowly. “If you’re sure you’re alright, I should be getting back to my tasks.”

     I nod my head. “Alright,” I say. Inwardly, I’m pleading with him. Don’t go.

    But he does.

   

    I feel cold and alone again the minute he leaves me, always craving more time with him, yet never getting enough. I wipe a fallen tear from my cheek, partly out of distress, but mostly out of anger. How I curse the circumstance of my life, the position love has put me in! Now, all I can feel is empty.

    Footsteps approach, and my shoulders stiffen at the sound. Leave me alone. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my sister. By the look on her face, it’s clear she has seen the entire exchange. She places a hand on my shoulder.  “What’s wrong, Victoria? It’s as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

    “You’re very nearly right,” is all I can say. I ignore her confused expression, shrug off her comforting hand, and turn away.

Forever his path shall be separate from mine. The boy and me. Forever we will be destined to live apart. Because no one can know. Ever.

    No one can know the boy with emerald eyes is his son. Our son.

    My son.

   

    Oh, how I wish things could have been different.

 

© 2019 Ariana M. Stadtlander