"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; 

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. 

At the going down of the sun and in the morning 

We will remember them." Ode of Remembrance

—

Chapter Twenty — One

Imogen was fairly optimistic during the first week that Simon was gone. Clearly, something had happened that required his immediate attention and he had not the time to tell anyone where he was going.

She was kept entertained on the second day by listening to Alexandra's re-telling of their father's reaction to Joaquín's asking him for Alexandra's hand in marriage. Apparently Emmett had remained silent for several minutes before sighing, shaking his head, telling Alexandra that he would miss her, and warning Joaquín that king or not, he was still answerable to his wife's father.

After a week, Imogen was finally allowed out of bed, and she continued to move about the house to improve her strength. Of course, her mother would not allow her outside without an escort or anywhere near a horse ever again, though she was confidently informed that Moon had found her way back to the stable after bolting from the field after seeing the snake.

The good doctor had removed the stitches from her head, and while the area was still tender, there would not be much of a scar.

After two weeks, a letter still had not arrived. Not even James had heard from Simon, and that worried Imogen. A fortnight with no correspondence was a long time for someone who had simply ridden off without a word.

Luckily, Imogen had the distraction of Alexandra's misery to take her mind off of the disappearance of Simon. Yet again, Joaquín's leaving her had left her in a state of despair.

But this time, their fate was not ambiguous. Joaquín had been away from his country for as long as he possibly could, and it was time for him to return home to his people. He also had the arduous task of convincing his council that marrying a woman who was not a princess, and Englishwoman at that, was beneficial to Spain. Alexandra had been enthusiastic about accompanying him to Spain but Joaquín did not want her to be there just yet. He had been honest. Unkind words would be said about her, he would be pushed and persuaded to call off the engagement, and he would hear Alexandra's name associated with a cold, indifferent snake who desired a crown. Joaquín had vehemently promised Alexandra that he would not listen to them, and that he would convince them that she was the right choice for Spain.

Alexandra had since settled into a state of worry over her fiancé, just as Imogen worried for Simon.

Alexandra could not stay the fear in her mind that told her that Joaquín's council would have another princess waiting for him upon his return. What if the Greek royal family had sent along Princess Athena's younger sister? What if she was beautiful? What if Joaquín was enchanted? What if he forgot all about her?

Imogen was not in the right frame of mind to console her sister, to tell her how silly she was being. Joaquín had returned home to petition his council, not to find another bride.

Imogen's optimism had all but evaporated after a month. A month was more than enough time to send word home. She had started to hear that something had happened to him a fortnight ago. Now she was convinced that something terrible had happened.

To distract herself from her own fears, Imogen walked. She walked the many corridors of Ascot House, walking from room to room. She climbed the stairs, slowly, but it was something that she had never been able to do previously.

As the six week mark of Simon's disappearance approached, Imogen was angry. A letter had arrived from Joaquín for Alexandra that morning to let her know that he had arrived safely in Spain. Based on how long it took to travel to Spain, it meant that he had written her the minute he had arrived in Madrid. If he could write Alexandra, then why could Simon not write her?

She knew that he had not made her any promises, but he had kissed her! Did he not understand how English courtships worked? A man could not kiss a woman, compromise her reputation, without being willing to marry her. To Imogen, a kiss was something important.

All she wanted was a letter! One single letter with the words "I am alive" and she would be satisfied!

Imogen's anger was like a burst of energy. Her ire fuelled her body and she moved more freely about the house. The stairs were not so arduous, though sometimes she would need to stop midway to catch her breath. In a fit of frustration, she had meant to rip her brother's invention from the wall. David had made her a stair chair, a contraption meant to make the stairs easier for her, but she had not used it in weeks.

In the back of her mind was the fear that Simon had left because of how much of a burden she would be if he married her. That fear, though she knew it was unlikely, had motivated her to never use it again.

Unfortunately, no matter how much she worked on her walking distances, she did not have the strength to remove welded iron from the wall. All she did was rip the wallpaper around it. Guiltily, she backed away from it and pretended like she had not done anything. If she could not rip it from the wall, then she would ignore it completely.

Alexandra was now irritatingly cheerful now that she had heard from Joaquín. Imogen would have ordinarily been happy for Alexandra, but in that moment, she was jealous. She was angry at Simon for making her feel this way. She did not want to resent Alexandra's happiness.

Alexandra was not oblivious to Imogen's feelings. She would often pounce on the mail in the morning searching for a letter for Imogen. Imogen knew that Alexandra felt a great deal of guilt in her happiness, something else that Imogen was angry at Simon for.

"What does he say?" Imogen had asked quietly over breakfast on the morning that Alexandra received her letter from Joaquín.

Alexandra bit her bottom lip, trying to stop herself from screaming with glee, Imogen presumed. "He says that he has just arrived in Madrid and that he has called a council meeting for tomorrow morning. He says that he misses me and that he loves me." Alexandra had blushed. She was clearly keeping some part of the letter to herself. 

Imogen had subtly eyed her sister's flat stomach, before immediately chiding herself. Alexandra would never have been so foolish. That was not to say that the kiss she and Simon had interrupted was their only one.

"What else did Joaquín say, Alexandra?" Emmett had asked nonchalantly as he turned the page of his newspaper. For the first time in weeks, Imogen felt like laughing.

Alexandra's blush deepened as she immediately folded the letter and hid it in her lap. "Nothing, Papa," she had replied, embarrassed.

After having no word in seven weeks, Imogen decided to go to Salisbury Hall. She could not sit idly anymore. She would go mad.

Thankfully, Elena had unknowingly occupied Bess with her granddaughters so evading her mother's watchful eye was quite easy. Imogen had to go upstairs to fetch her coat. Two flights of stairs would have been near impossible just a few months ago. Now she could handle it. It was amazing what she could do when she worked hard.

No matter how angry she was with him, Imogen knew that Simon was responsible for her physical health. Even Doctor Richardson, who had watched over her condition from birth, was amazed at her improvement. He had mentioned in passing that he wanted to submit a piece to a medical journal about her. When Imogen was in a better mood, she would be more than happy to consent to it.

Imogen did not wish her condition on anyone. She had been screaming internally for years, trying desperately to fight through the uselessness that was her body. Imogen had been trapped inside her body, and the arduous task that was moving often felt as though she were trudging through three feet of mud. She had not been living for two decades. She had been watching her life pass her by.

Until now. If her case was submitted to a journal, and she was able to help some other poor girl or boy, born just as she was, then she would gladly do so.

Because walking did not feel as though she was trudging through mud anymore. Her once bony legs, the legs that were the width of twigs, now had muscular definition. There was strength in there.

Imogen Wilde, the sickly youngest daughter of the Duke of Ascot, was strong. Strong enough to throw her fist into the jaw of Simon Spencer should she ever see him again.

She knew it would be terribly unladylike, and that only drunkards brawled, but she was angry. And it was because of him that she had any strength. He deserved to feel it.

Once she had collected her coat, Imogen decided to make her way down the internal servants' staircase, just in case her mother happened upon her in the foyer. The servants' staircase was steeper and narrower than the main staircases so they were more trying on Imogen's legs. Nevertheless, she made it, smiling at the servants so that they did not think she was behaving clandestinely. Of course, they knew better. David, Alexandra, and Imogen had only ever used the servants' staircase when they were doing something that they were not supposed to be doing. Their good household said nothing though, simply curtseying and bowing as she passed.

Imogen moved swiftly down to the stables, checking over her shoulder as she went. It was quite cold outside as winter rapidly approached, and there was a constant drizzle, the type of rain that could go on for days. Imogen knew that she would be saturated by the time that she reached Salisbury Hall but she did not care.

The stable hand noticed her as she approached, and he knew what she wanted before she asked. He simply retreated inside and Imogen waited by the corral. Several minutes later, he emerged with Moon, saddled, and ready to ride. Imogen was so thankful that her horse had found her way home after being spooked. She was fearful that Moon might have tried to jump a fence which could have broken her leg.

"I am presuming that your parents are not aware of this," he said quietly.

"I saddled Moon myself and took her without your permission," offered Imogen as an excuse.

"I am not sure your parents would believe that, milady, but I thank you for it," he replied. He helped Imogen onto Moon and Imogen quickly moved Moon into a canter.

She felt in control of Moon despite having fallen off her. Imogen was careful to keep Moon to the roads. She would not risk travelling over grass in this weather. Moon could trip and injure herself. Imogen could end up concussed again with no one to help her.

It took a little less than an hour to reach Salisbury Hall. Imogen did not know what she expected to find at Salisbury but it had to be more than waiting for the mail to be delivered every morning.

As she approached the front door, it was opened by Salisbury's butler. A footman immediately tended to Moon and Imogen was invited inside.

Imogen saw Simone's head peek out from the library. She was holding a writing tablet and had a biscuit in her mouth. She and James were obviously doing their lessons.

Simone's golden eyes widened as she spat the biscuit from her mouth and it landed on the floor. She beamed and cried, "Imogen!" Her head turned back into the library and she shouted, "Mama, Imogen is here!"

Rebecca appeared soon after, followed by young James, and she eyed the biscuit on the floor. She immediately picked up the half chewed treat and enclosed it in her hand, rolling her eyes. Imogen scrunched up her nose but Rebecca laughed. "When it is your own children, you do not notice what is unpleasant and what is not." She laughed lightly.

Imogen knew this to be true. She had often seen mothers in her family engage in otherwise dirty activities without even batting an eyelid. She wondered if she would ever have that experience, not that the unpleasant acts sounded very appealing at that moment.

"Alright, you two, go outside and play for a little while. Mama is going to visit with Cousin Imogen." James and Simone cheered, immediately running for the door. "Do not go far!" she cried after them, but the children were already away. "Honestly, I have the most energetic children in Britain."

Imogen smiled as Rebecca ordered them some tea. Rebecca led Imogen into the drawing room and they two women sat down on the settee next to each other.

"I think I can guess what brought you here," said Rebecca quietly. "James has not received a letter from Simon," she said regretfully.

"Is he worried?" Imogen inquired.

Rebecca shook her head. "James is used to Simon's prolonged absences. He has not seen him in eight years, remember? Simon has not been in one place for very long. He is used to travelling from city to city, not staying put."

That explanation hurt Imogen more than she thought it would. Had Simon left purely because he was bored? Bored with country life ... bored with her? "Does James expect him to return?" Imogen asked softly, her voice trembling.

Rebecca looked very sympathetic. "Oh, Imogen, I can see what he means to you. If I am being truthful, James does not expect him to return any time soon. He says that Simon writes every so often, so we will know something when he does."

Imogen willed herself not to cry. This was worse than anything she could have imagined. How could she have wanted this? How could she have ever wanted to fall in love? It just made silly girls like her susceptible to pain like this. "Forgive me, Rebecca, but I do not think I will stay for tea." Her voice broke on the last word and she rose quickly. For the first time in her life, she ran. It was such an odd sensation, but she felt powerful doing so.

Imogen ran from the drawing room and went directly to the front door, which was already opened. She could see just down the front steps that a carriage had pulled up. The butler and the footmen had swarmed the carriage, helping to assemble the steps and to unload the trunks that were fixed to the roof.

A small girl bounced out of the carriage. She was very pretty. Her brown eyes were large as she took in the sight of Salisbury Hall. She wore a very fine midnight blue gown with a large white bow tied around her waist. Her dark hair was fixed in an untidy braid and her smile was wider than anything.

"Hannah, hold my hand, please," requested a familiar voice. "I do not want you tripping on the steps and breaking your head."

Surely her eyes were deceiving her. Simon climbed out of the carriage holding a small, curly haired boy. Even from where she was standing, Imogen could see that his eyes were a piercing blue. Simon took hold of the little girl, Hannah's, hand, and adjusted the boy so that he was sitting on Simon's forearm.

Imogen had no words.

Together, Simon and the two children ascended the steps and crossed the threshold into Salisbury Hall. That was when Simon saw Imogen standing before him with an open mouth.

"Imogen," he breathed, a happy smile forming on his face.

Imogen's rage came flooding back, but she could not very well strike him when he was holding a child. "You are returned," she managed to choke out. Her eyes went to the children, a bewildered expression on her face. The boy ... could he be Harry? But who was the girl? Simon had not mentioned a girl. Who was she? Was she is? Did he have another child that he had not informed her of?

Simon saw Imogen's clear confusion. "I did not know how to put this into a letter. Allow me to explain." 

—-

Sorry about the wait everyone. This week has been manic. It's assignment time again so I've been writing assignments all week. On Tuesday I wrote a 2000 word literature report, most of it was bullsh*t, and then on Wednesday and Thursday I wrote a 2500 word lab report on whether trait perfectionism is a contributing factor to stress and anxiety. That was huge, and when I finished it, I was literally doing a happy dance at my dining room table :P

So today I was having a "Nothing" day. I literally did nothing and it was awesome. I slept in until 11:30am, got up and alphabetised the DVDs because the disorder has been driving me nuts (yes, I could have written my lab report on myself!) got some junk food for lunch (gym here I come), then watched "The Water Diviner" and "War Horse" as I'd recorded them off the TV. Great day lol. Oh, and to top it off my best friend was at the Demi Lovato concert tonight and she called me while she was singing "Let it Go" and she held her phone up in the air so I could hear. That was so cool :)

I wanted to tell you guys this amazing story that my mum told me today. I can't believe I didn't know it. So the reason I was watching WWI movies today is because it is ANZAC Day tomorrow. It's a public holiday in Australia and New Zealand as tomorrow, the 25th of April, is the anniversary of the day that the ANZACs (Australia New Zealand Army Corps) landed in Gallipoli to fight in WWI. It's 100 years ago tomorrow. My mum told me that her Grandad, my Great-Grandad, lied about his age and went to fight for England when he was 14 years old at the Front. He spent 6 weeks at the Front before anybody found out about his age and then he was sent safely home to his mum. 2 years later, at 16, he lied about his age again and went to fight for King and Country. Nobody found out about his age then and he fought for the remainder of the war. I'm shaking just typing this. Can you imagine being a 14 year old kid and going into a warzone? The horrible trenches and the explosions and the guns. This kid was sent home to the safety of his family, only to lie again and go back. This makes me so immensely proud. He survived, and he came home. If he didn't, I wouldn't be here. He had 9 kids, 8 daughters and 1 son, a son who went on to fight in WWII. But tomorrow we remember the ANZACs and every other service man and woman. Lest we forget <3

I'm always proud to include the military in my stories. They are so brave. The poem above is always said on remembrance days like tomorrow. They are such moving words.

Take a minute tomorrow everyone.