Haley Thistle
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The Soldier: Part One (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2021-06-12 20:00:01 +0000 UTCBeing patient had never been a blessed attribute for Corinne. Having an anxious disposition it felt like such a foreign concept to her. And due to having a rich family, she never had to wait long for things anyways. Corinne was spoiled in youth, doted on by her loving parents. Her father, Xavier, was a renowned doctor, while her mother came from a high regarded family. It wasn’t until her mother died that Corinne grew out of her spoiled ways. She grew up, helping to take care of the house, learning to mend her own things, tend a garden, and helping her father mind the books. But patience still never came easy for her.
When war was declared, Corinne became engaged to a student of her father’s, Nathaniel St. Clair. She promised to wait on him. She thought she could deal with it. But then, her father, too, was called out onto the battlefields, his skills were needed to save the young men fighting. Corinne was left alone at home, waiting in a suffering of her own anxious mind. She dreaded what could happen out there. She heard stories, read the papers, no matter how much her guardian, Mrs. Rothchester, tried to keep it from her. She waited by the windows, hoping to catch sight of someone, anyone, returning home.
“You sit by that drafty window all day, you’ll catch your death of cold!” Mrs. Rothschild fussed at Corinne, whose fingers were busy to the bone knitting. She’d always knit, but as a way to try and distract her mind, she’d been knitting anything and everything that came to mind. Often donating her projects to families who needed the extra warmth.
“I won’t catch a cold, Mrs. Rothschild,” she sighed. “I’m fine.”
Mrs. Rothschild went to the window, closing the curtains which earned her a deluxe scowl on Corinne’s face. She stood up, opening the curtains back with a huff. “You know I have to see!”
“I know you have better things to do than fret and worry all day. Watching a kettle doesn’t make it boil. Nor does watching that road make anyone come home.” Mrs. Rothschild sighed, her own fret was that Corinne would worry herself sick. “You need to get up and do something. Get away from this spot. What good is sitting here going to do anyone?”
Corinne set down her needles and glanced back outside. It had rained all night and now the pathway to the house was shrouded in thick fog. A slight drizzle kept the path itself glossy and muddy. Her eyes focused on the fog, trying to project an image upon the gray that would take shape and turn into someone. When she could not make it happen, she picked up her knitting again. She had heard stories that soldiers were being turned into monsters. Living weapons used to take out large numbers of men, while being oblivious to pain. The thought of it made the needles go faster.
Mrs. Rothschild sighed in frustration and returned to the kitchen to fetch Corinne’s lunch. The staff in the house was few since war started. All the men had gone save for Mr. Rothschild, far too old for such things, and Lewis the stableboy who was far too young. And aside from those three, there were only three others still working. The Rothchilds’ daughter had gone to war as a nurse. Then one of the maids had vanished during the night not long before the war started.
“How’s the girl?” Mr. Rothschild asked as he stepped away from the stove, filling the tea pot with hot water.
“She still won’t leave that blasted window,” Mrs. Rothschild scoffed. “I fear she’ll go mad like her mother did.”
Mr. Rothschild shushed his wife. “Keep your tongue. She could be listening.”
She rolled her eyes. “Did you not hear me? She’s not leaving that window! I could talk all day about her crazy mother and she’d never hear me here.” Mrs. Rothschild slicked chicken, placing it on toasted bread. “How many chickens do we have left?”
“Lewis said five, but he knows where to get a rooster.” Mr. Rothschild answered.
Mrs. Rothschild sighed heavily. “It’s a choice between eggs and chicken now, is it?”
“At least with chickens we can get two, maybe three meals,” her husband answered. “Keep the bones, make the stock, what’s left on said bones can be used for mash.”
“But eggs are used in every meal just about,” Mrs. Rothschild fretted. “I’ll talk to Corinne and see if we can spare something to get that rooster.”
“I don’t think Lewis will need money for this rooster,” Mr. Rothschild replied cheekily. “I think it’s more of a uhm...found situation.”
“As long as he don’t get caught again,” Mrs. Rothschild grumbled. She picked up the tray when an ear splitting scream rang out through the house. She dropped the tray, causing a tea cup to fall and crash upon the ground.
“Mrs. Rothschild!” Corinne came racing down the stairs, skirts in her fists as she raced towards the front doors.
“Good lord,” Mrs. Rothschild grumbled irritably under her breath. “Calm down! You’ll break your neck!” She chased after the girl, following her to the thrown open front doors. She grabbed hold of Corinne who was grinning ear to ear. “Get inside! What are you going on about? You gave everyone in this damn house such a fright with all your-” Her voice stopped when she finally looked into the yard. The gate was opened and a carriage was coming to the door. “My word, it can’t be.”
Corinne broke free, rushing out to the carriage as it came to a halt. She bounced with joy, especially when her father’s face appeared. He came from inside, stepping down and into her wide opened arms.
“Oh, my sweet thing!” Dr. Marfont sighed. “How wonderful to see you.”
“I knew it was you!” Corinne was in tears as she held him.
“Cookie,” Dr. Marfont said gently to her. “I need you to go and prepare the guest bedroom for me.”
“What for?” Corinne asked. “Are you expecting someone?” She then peered into the carriage, seeing her father was not alone inside. A stretcher was set up along the back where there was a body laid inside. “Oh!” She gasped.
Dr. Marfont nodded to Corinne. “This young man needs long term care and there is nowhere in this world that can take care of him. I bonded with the fellow so I brought him with me until he can heal.”
“I’ll go and fetch Mr. Rothschild to help you get him inside,” Corinne tried to spy on the young man in the carriage, but all she could see was his arm and his elegant hand. “Then I’ll make sure the guest room is ready.”
“Thank you, Cookie.” Dr. Marfont kissed the top of her head. “We’ll celebrate when I get him settled.”
“That would be wonderful!” Corinne quickly returned to the doors and held Mrs. Rothschild by her arm. “He’s brought an injured soldier with him.”
“We can barely feed ourselves and he brings a soldier home?” Mrs. Rothschild scoffed. “I swear, he’s done this since he married your mother.”
Corinne gave her a sweet smile. “We need to go and prepare the guest room, and my father needs your husband’s help to get him in.”
Mrs. Rothschild just rolled her eyes. “You go and start in the guest room. I’ll go hurry my husband along.”
“Thank you,” Corinne walked off, going down the hallway to the guest room. It hadn’t been used in ages, at least not since war started. The room was mildly dusty and the air was stale so Corinne opened a window. As she pulled back the covers upon the bed, a spider crawled out and she screamed. She struck the bed over and over again with a throw pillow but the spider vanished.
“What was that noise?” Mrs. Rothschild came into the room, pulling the old sheets off the bed to put on new ones.
“Nothing,” Corinne felt a tad ashamed of her fear, so she didn’t bring it up. She helped Mrs. Rothschild to change the bed and make it fresh for the soldier.
“I wonder what happened to him?” Corinne murmured. “It must have been something terrible if my father had to bring him here.”
“Best not to think about these things. Lots of horrible things can happen during war. Gun shots, amputations, burns-” Mrs. Rothschild shuddered and shook her head. “It’s best you keep your mind away from those things.”
Corinne looked up to the door as her father and Mr. Rothschild came into the room, carrying the stretcher. She scurried behind Mrs. Rothschild, keeping her eyes down. The two men lowered the stretcher down onto the bed, allowing the young man to roll himself onto the clean sheets.
“I don’t want anyone touching him.” Dr. Marfont instructed as he tucked the soldier into bed. “I will tend to his wounds, his bandages. All I need is for one of you to deliver his meals and medicine when I can’t. Other than that, he is not to be touched.”
“Is there something wrong with him we should be made aware of?” Mrs. Rothschild asked. “It’s not a sickness or a rash he can spread, is it?”
“No, no, of course not,” Dr. Marfont sighed, laughing. “This young man is a hero! Saved his mates but took a lot of shrapnel for it. He got infected, though, from improper care, but that’s why he’s here now.”
Corinne peeked around Mrs. Rothschild, seeing the young man laying in bed with bandages all over him, including his face.
“He looks so pale,” Mrs. Rothschild remarked.
“You would too after what he’s been through,” the doctor laughed. “Now come along. Let’s allow him to rest in peace. I want to see my Cookie.”
Corinne stepped out, racing to her father’s arms. “I’ve missed you so much!” She said as they left the room. “You hadn’t written in so long, I became terrified of the worst!”
“A lot of mail has not been getting through. So if you have not heard from Nathaniel either, that could be the case.” Dr. Marfront went to the parlor where he groaned as she sat down. “I haven’t had a seat since I went to the front line hospital,” he groaned.
“Was it really that bad?” Corinne gasped.
“Sometimes worse. There would be days I didn’t know days had passed.” He sinks into his chair and stiffens his back. “I think things will be coming to an end soon. More talks of peace have been spreading.”
“We can only hope so!” Mrs. Rothschild quipped. “I’ll go fetch some tea,” she said. “Do you need anything to eat, Doctor?”
“No, thank you, Mrs. Rothschild. I want rest more than I want food.” Dr. Marfont sighed.
Once Mrs. Rothschild was gone, Corinne got up and sat at her father’s feet, placing her head upon his lap. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
Dr. Marfont stroked the top of her head gently. “So am I, Cookie,” he chuckled. “I’m sure you won’t have to worry much longer either. Nathaniel should be returning home soon as well.”
“That would bring me such joy,” Corinne sighed. “To have everyone I love returned home.” She then glanced out into the hall at the closed door of the guest bedroom. “Who is he, father?” She asked quietly. “The soldier you brought home.”
“Lockwood is his name,” the doctor sounded dismissive of it. “I grew quite fond of him. He’s a good man, like I said, a hero.”
“Lockwood,” Corinne murmured under her breath. “What else do you know of him? Where is he from? What was he doing before the war?”
Dr. Marfont patted the top of her head. “There’s no reasons for you to worry about that, my love. I just ask you to treat him kindly. He’s earned it.”
Corinne looked back to the door. His answers did nothing to placate her curiosity and anxiety. Her mind wandered freely about the soldier. She pictured him tall and heroic, knowing he had long, graceful hands, she imagined them holding a sword or musket. She pictured him being fair and dark haired, his features sharp but gentle at the same time. Like someone in one of her old books.
That evening after dinner, Corinne was tasked with delivering the soldier a meal as well as his medicine. She stood before the guest room door, wondering if she should knock. She simply let herself in, gazing through the dark room. No candles or lanterns had been lit, he’d just been left in the dark.
“H-hello?” Her voice trembled. “I’ve brought you something to eat.” She stepped into the room, seeing Lockwood’s shape in the bed, but no other features. “Sir? Are you awake?”
A deep breath was taken and the blankets on the bed stirred. “That is not a voice I am familiar with.” His voice was surprisingly melodic. “Who goes there?”
“Corinne,” she chirped. “Corinne Marfont.”
“The daughter.” Lockwood murmured. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Corinne swallowed hard. “Are you hungry, sir?”
“I’m not sure,” his voice sounded strained. “I’ve not known myself since I was placed in your father’s care.”
“Should I light a candle?” Corinne offered.
Lockwood breathed hard agan. “No. It’s fine this way. Don’t waste a candle on me, young lady,” he chuckled. “I don’t think there’s much left to see anyways.”
Corinne sat the tray aside then filled the bedside cup with water. In the shadows she could see the outline of his body, his head wrapped in bandages. She was afraid of him in a way, but her curiosity drew her near. “You poor thing.” She placed her hand upon the pale, bare skin of his arm and he flinched. “Try and eat something.” She picked up the bowl of soup and stirred it. “I’ll help you.” Her hand shook as she lifted the full spoon into the air.
Lockwood sighed. “You’re very kind, but I can take care of myself.”
“L-let me help,” Corinne insisted. “My father said-”
“I told him not to bring me here,” Lockwood said, hushed. “I did not want to be a burden on anyone. If I died, I died. And it would have been a blessing either way. Do not fret over me, my lady. I do not ask for it.”
Corinne set the spoon back into the bowl. “Why would you want to die?”
Lockwood chuckled. “It is not something I should discuss with you, my lady. I would hate to make you cry in any way.”
“Mr. Lockwood-” Corinne heard her father coming down the hall. She stood up, still holding the bowl of soup as he came into the room.
“Cookie! You’re still here?” His voice held a stern edge to it. “You don’t need to bother Mr. Lockwood, darling.”
“It’s fine, doctor,” Lockwood replied. “I don’t want to be the bothersome one.”
Dr. Marfont took the soup from Corinne. “Go onto bed, Cookie. I’ll be taking care of Mr. Lockwood’s bandages now. You don’t need to be seeing this.” He lead her to the door and kissed her cheek goodnight. “Sleep well, I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, father,” she said softly. She then peered back into the room. “Goodnight to you as well, Mr. Lockwood.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Mr. Lockwood sighed.
Corinne returned to her room, preparing herself for bed. Her mind was filled with nothing but questions about Lockwood. His soft, gentle voice, the wrappings about his face, his thoughts on death. They all cluttered her mind until it was very hard for her to find sleep. And as the days went by, she insisted on being the one who helped to take care of Lockwood. She took him his meals, administered his medicine. And while she had countless rehearsed conversations in her head, she could never muster up the courage to speak to him. Not like she wanted to anyways.
“It’s so kind of you to look after me, my lady,” Lockwood said one day after she had given him his medicine. “It is nice to have a gentle touch here and there.”
“I promised my father,” she said quietly. She wanted to say more, ask him so much, but she could barely answer him at all.
“It means the world to me, regardless.” Lockwood turned his head away, looking towards the window. “It’s rained since I got here, hasn’t it?”
Corinne watched him, seeing dark hair peeking through the wrappings on his head. His neck was long and elegant, the curve from there to his shoulder looked almost beautiful. His skin was so pale she could almost count the blue veins underneath pressing towards the surface.
“It was raining before you arrived.” Her eyes were focused on that expanse of flesh. So different from Nathaniel’s which was bronzed, hairy, and sinewy.
“Was it?” Lockwood’s fingers felt back and forth along the cover, stroking it to feel the softness of the fabric. “Must be boring these days.”
“Not so much. I’ve been worried far too much these days to notice, anyways.” She picked up the few dishes and set them aside.
“About your fiancé?” Lockwood asked.
Corinne stilled, tracing her finger around the rim of a teacup. “And my father.”
“Your father said he was a doctor too, a student of his.” Lockwood turned his head so he could see Corinne’s back. Her hair was down, falling in ringlets along her shoulders and back. The deep red of hair was the same as her mother’s, as were her dark brown eyes. She had freckles all over her face, even on her shoulders and chest, which she desperately tried to keep covered. Lockwood noticed how small she was, if someone were not paying attention they could mistake her for a child. Dr. Marfont had mentioned his daughter was petite and reminded him of a rabbit. Small, helpless, and nervous.
“You’re very lucky,” Lockwood said gently.
Corinne turned and gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Mr. Lockwood.” She returned to his bedside, sitting down on the stool there. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“I’m sure you must have better things to worry about, my lady,” Lockwood murmured. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“It’s raining, there’s not much else for me to do.” Corinne gave him another smile. “Besides, I’d hate to think you were lonesome here.”
Lockwood sighed heavily, but not from any strain of pain upon his body. He sighed from a faintness in his heart caused by Corinne’s kindness and beauty. He had been drawn to stories of her told by Dr. Marfont. And seeing her outside his imagination made him even more fond of her.
“Perhaps you could read a book to me?” Lockwood asked. “A chapter a day until the rain is gone, perhaps?”
Corinne nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.” She left the guest room, going across the hall to the parlor where all the books were kept. She found one on the shelf that had different stories inside about fairies, legends, stories her mother had read to her when she was small.
She returned to Lockwood’s side, turning the book to the first story. “There was a knight whose soul was chained to a devil so that he could be strong.” She would read to him everyday after this, telling him one more story from the book. It helped to ease her nerves around him, and slowly, she began to talk to him more.
“I did nothing much before the war. I was a nobody,” Lockwood answered. “I worked for a large home, but it is nothing worth talking about.”
“What sort of family did you work for?” Corinne asked.
Lockwood laughed. “I told you, it’s not worth talking about.” He reached out, placing his hand over Corinne’s. “They were good to me, but there was an accident that made me leave just before the war.”
“What happened?” Corinne was intrigued.
“Never you mind, my lady.” He squeezed her hand gently.
“Can you tell me about the war?” She murmured to him. “No one will let me know anything about it. They think I am feeble or something.” She held onto his hand as if he could run away from her questions. “What did you do out there? Did you fight? Did you shoot someone?”
“My lady,” he started to say something but he held himself back. “What I did out there, what is going out in the field, I do not think-”
“I want to know,” she said urgently. “I hear stories and I don’t know what to believe.”
Lockwood sighed. “There are things you shouldn’t know, my lady.” He squeezed her hand. “It is dark and ugly, even in daylight. There is blood and rot everywhere you look. Lives destroyed. Shadows made real. It’s not worth it to paint that on your mind. I know how you linger on things.”
Corinne leaned in again and held his hand with both of hers. “I like talking to you. I like being here with you.” She smoothed her hand down his arm. “It’s nice having a friend around again. The house has been so empty for a long time.”
Lockwood sighed heavily. “Be careful with how you touch me.”
“I’m sorry,” she moved a hand away. “Am I hurting you?”
“The opposite.” He murmured.
Corinne’s heart throbbed inside her chest and she placed her hand upon him again. She stroked his arm, moving it to that expanse of flesh between his neck and shoulder. Lockwood moaned out of fear, turning himself closer to her fingertips.
“I care for you, Mr. Lockwood,” she said softly to him.
“I care for you, Corinne.” His lips parted as she touched him more. “But do be careful. Your hands are my weakness.”
She smiled with pride, slipping closer to him, pressing a small kiss and his jaw that was not covered by bandages.
Lockwood gasped, his body twitched and his mouth opened. Inside she saw his teeth looked strange, sharp fangs were hidden behind his lips. His tongue looked strange as well, almost as if it were split down the middle. He settled, turning his head away and clearing his throat. “I told you to be gentle.”
“I thought I was.” Corinne cupped his cheek, turning him back to face her. “Mr. Lockwood, forgive me.” She pressed her lips to his. His body jerked, his hand grabbed her arm harshly, digging into the skin. She pulled back, swooning from the kiss.
“I can’t forgive you for that,” Lockwood rasped. He stretched out his long neck, kissing her again.
Corinne moaned softly, pulling away as she heard voices down the hall. “Corinne!” Mrs. Rothschild yelled from the kitchen.
“Bast her,” Corinne huffed. “I have to go now.” She smoothed down her skirt then tried to cool her cheeks. She didn’t want to look too flushed when going to the kitchen.
“Take care now,” Lockwood said with a smile. “I’ll think of you until next time.”
Corinne smiled, waving to him with a cheeky smile upon her face. As she left and went d own the hallway where she came across her father
“Did you hear Mrs. Rothschild calling for you, Cookie?” He asked.
“Yes, father. I was heading that way to help her in the kitchen.” She blushed, wondering if her kiss with Lockwood was still evident on her lips. She licked them, finding his taste was still there.
“I’ll be a little late,” her father said. “I have to change Mr. Lockwoods bandages and give him a check up. So don’t wait on me.”
“I’ll let Mrs. Rothschild know,” Corinne said.
Lockwood laid in his bed, taking short breaths as it felt like he couldn’t catch one. His skin crawled and he looked down to see a spider upon his chest. He went to raise his hand to strike it but the spider crawled under the bandages on his chest. He struggled, trying to claw at the bandages in fear. His head spun, his vision swooned. He looked up to see the painting of Mrs. Marfont over the mantle glaring viciously at him. He cried, grabbing at the bandages while he felt sick to his core.
“Still yourself!” Dr. Marfont came through the fog and held back his hands, forcing them down.
“Spider!” Lockwood gasped.
“Spider?” Dr. Marfont fought Lockwood’s hands back again.
“Bandages-” Lockwood wheezed.
Dr. Marfont unraveled the bandages on Lockwood’s chest and the small spider fell out, scurrying across the sheets and disappearing under the bed. Lockwood was shaking visibly, he fell back against the bed, trying to suppress his nausea. Dr. Marfont removed the rest of the bandages, exposing Lockwood’s breasts.
“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up.” He checked around Lockwood’s ribs and his breasts just to make sure. There were bruises and healing wounds, but nothing out of the ordinary. “Once you’re healed, I fear you’ll be discovered for what you really are.”
Lockwood laid there, breathing and shaking. “I’ll be found out for many things, doctor. Not just that.”
Dr. Marfront took his bag, pulling out the syringe and bottle of medicine. “Stay still,” he coaxed. “Same as always.” he took Lockwood’s arm, injecting the medicine. Lockwood shook, grimacing and gritting his teeth through the pain. His veins pulsed dark, pressing tightly against the skin before fading away to gray.
“Doctor,” Lockwood croaked, placing his hand over his breasts to cover them. “Thank you.”
“You do not need to thank me every time. I don’t even think what I am doing is helping,” he sighed heavily. He took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
He met Lockwood several months ago in the hospital. He’d been working for days straight and was resting near the doors when a soldier was brought in by members of his squadron. He’d taken direct fire in order to get his men to escape and was somehow still breathing. Dr. Marfont took the young man in despite his exhaustion, giving him his own bed in order to operate. But the doctor was shocked to discover the soldier was a woman in disguise. He didn’t stop to out her, instead he operated, saving her life, and promising to protect her. A promise which attached her to him as he returned home.
“You’re helping, doctor,” Lockwood assured him. “What I agreed to is what is hurting me.”
Dr. Marfont sighed heavily, rubbing his hands together before taking out clean bandages. He had Lockwood sit up, wrapping them around until there was no sign of his breasts. “War creates monsters,” he murmured. “I just wish it didn’t make them out of the ones we cared about.”
Lockwood took a deep breath. “Once I‘m better, I’ll leave.”
Dr. Marfont was quiet again. He both wanted to keep Lockwood safe, but he also didn’t want to expose him to his family, his home. “Whatever works out best,” was all he could say.
Lockwood laid in bed after the doctor left, gazing through the thin bandages around his eyes. The light that came through the window appeared gray and then, there was a shape standing there, a woman, it looked like. Lockwood reached out, feeling nothing but cold before them. They turned their head away and laid there, listening as the rain returned.
Comments
LegallyBlindGamer727
Always been a fan of that trope
