It was Christmas 1917. The war should have ended two Christmas’ before, America joining in had moved things along, but there was still a war to fight.
Charles had returned home to his country house and was reading a letter from his father in law, providing details of the funeral of Alexa who had been buried in her family cemetery. Charles had wanted her buried in the graveyard in the grounds of his house, but had heard of the plans too late to be able to change them.
“Excuse me sir.”
Charles turned to find his valet, Jack standing next to his chair. He hadn’t heard him approach.
“Considering you have a leg injury stopping you joining up Jack, you move very quietly.”
Jack smiled. “Indeed Sir.”
“Did you want something Jack?”
“The staff and I, we just wish to convey our condolences on your loss. Lady Alexa was held in high regard in the house and was kind to many of us. We would like to give you this.”
Charles was handed a small, exquisitely wrapped parcel. He unwrapped it carefully, exposing a round silver locket containing a beautiful painting of Alexa.
“My lord Jack, what a wonderful gift.”