Haley Thistle
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The Soldier: Part One (special preview)
🕑 Added 2021-06-10 21:00:02 +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.”
