Winter's Longings

That first winter in Cennanceaster seemed endlessly long. Henrietta soon found that it was quite possible to go visiting and come back lonelier than ever. The women were kind, of course, but they also thought of her as Lady Arnold, and in some way that made them even more distant than strangers. Frederick was no help, either, for he did not have the same problem. He and the Earl went out almost every day, either riding or visiting the tenants, and while they were together, neither was lonely.
At least that was how Henrietta saw it. The Earl was, in fact, quite lonely, although Frederick's company made him less lonely than he had been in a long while. He had always thought of himself as a playful bachelor, and when the first had been proved wrong he had worked even harder to make certain the second never would. In truth, he did not have to worry: his was not a mournful nature. He still felt a painful crack in his heart when he went into the now abandoned master bedroom to get some piece of clothing or other, but he could not mend that crack through thinking about it. He was dying to return to a a more social lifestyle that might, at least, dull the pain.
Frederick was not lonely at all, that was no part of his gentle nature. But something troubled him as well: the news from overseas. Every new piece threatened of war, and Frederick was torn between worry that one would come and an eagerness to be a soldier again, something he had missed dreadfully since he entered society 18 years ago. Society might be what his wife and freind were craving, but he was far happier with a plan of action and a life of discipline.