by C J M Naylor
Elisabeth began to walk away again but turned back one last time.
"I will come back," she said too Eleanor.
And she turned, leaving Eleanor behind her, not sure if she'd ever see her again.
Elisabeth made her way through Trafalgar Square, everything quiet for the night, on her way to give up her child. She looked down at the sleeping girl in her arms. At her little eyes. Her little nose. Her little fingers. She knew this would only be possible because of one person. Abigail. The only kind of woman that had ever been like a mother to her. The woman that had raised her. And she knew that she would give that woman's name to the child in her arms now. And she hoped that the parents that took her daughter in as their own would honor that.
Elisabeth rounded a corner and there was St. Agnus'. It was sitting at the end of the little street, everything quiet for the evening, still holding that feeling that it was hidden from everything else, tucked away from the real world. Knowing she might still have time, Elisabeth picked up her pace and quickly made her way to the doorsteps of the orphanage. Still holding her child close to her, she began to beat on the door. Over and over and over she beat on the door until a light came on and the door opened.
Sister Margaret, dressed in a nightgown, opened the door. Her face looked puzzled and for a moment Elisabeth feared she would see through the disguise. But she looked down at the baby instead and then looked back up.
"Sister Eleanor," she said, "what's going on? Why did you leave?"
"This is my sister's daughter," Elisabeth said, the lie rolling quickly off her tongue. "I need to leave her."
"You won't be coming back inside?"
Elisabeth shook her head. "I, I just need to leave her. Please, Sister Margaret."
Again, Sister Margaret looked as if she wasn't accepting any of this, but she held out her arms. "We'll need to have you sign some things."
Elisabeth shook her head. "Please, please, just take her. No signatures. No paperwork. Please."
Sister Margaret took a deep breath, but she could tell this woman—this woman who she knew was not Eleanor, but Elisabeth, but wouldn't say—was in trouble. Therefore, she nodded and held out her arms. "I'll take her then."
Elisabeth looked down at her daughter, Abigail, again. This wasn't enough.
"Can I have a moment alone with her?"
Sister Margaret nodded and beckoned for Elisabeth to follow her into the little study next to the door.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," Sister Margaret said. She slid the doors of the study shut and Elisabeth quickly walked over to the small desk at the side of the room, finding pen and paper. She needed to be clear that her daughter could never come looking for her. She could never become involved in this world. She could never find Mathias or attempt to become a Timekeeper. That was part of the curse. If she was never initiated, the curse could never take place. And she knew that once Abigail was initiated, she would be an original Timekeeper, something Mathias had never known about Elisabeth. And the law was different for an original Timekeeper. Elisabeth knew this was the best way, even if it meant she would never know her daughter.
As she held her daughter in one hand, she picked up a paper and pen from Sister Margaret’s desk and began to write in the other:
Whoever reads this has taken my daughter in. For that I thank you. I only have two requests that I hope you will honor. First, name her Abigail. It was my mother's name. Second, please tell her when she asks about her biological family (if she ever asks) that she has none. After I am finished writing this, she won't. I will be dead within the next few hours. Her father died not long after I was with child. We had no living relatives. Please care for her as if she were your own biological child. Her birthday is December 8, 1925.
-Her mother.
Her daughter had to think she was dead. Almost as soon as Elisabeth had folded the paper and clutched it in her hand, the door to the study slid open.
Sister Margaret stood in the doorway. "Are you ready, Sister?"
Elisabeth looked down at her daughter, who had now woken up and was looking at her mother with curiosity, and then lifted her into a hug. After a moment, she kissed her baby on top of her head and then walked briskly across the room and handed her to Sister Margaret. Almost immediately the child began to cry.
Elisabeth took Sister Margaret's hand and placed the crumpled note in it. "For her adoptive parents, from her mother. And please, Sister Margaret, no word of this night to anyone. Simply say she was left on the doorstep of this orphanage and leave it at that. Please? Promise me."
Sister Margaret nodded. "I promise."
And with that, Elisabeth looked at her daughter one last time, and walked out of the study, out the door of the orphanage, and into the night. She had to get back to Eleanor.
As she walked away, she whispered to herself, "Goodbye, my love."
Elisabeth couldn't hear Eleanor. They hadn't communicated since Elisabeth had given birth. Elisabeth was nervous about what this meant. Her heart was beating at a mile a minute. But she knew she couldn't assume the worst. Her telepathic connection with her sister had always been rocky as had their relationship. But it had been so strong earlier tonight. And that was what worried Elisabeth now as she made her way to the Tower Bridge.
She received a few stares from the few people that were walking the streets this late at night. She was after all dressed as a nun and walking through the streets of London in the wee hours of the morning. On top of that, she was walking as though injured because she was injured to an extent. She had not rested since before giving birth. Her body had reacted in fight and flight mode as Abigail had given her the opportunity to get her daughter to safety.
Her mother wasn't even supposed to be there. She had been trying to protect her children from her and had enlisted the help of Mildred to help her. But Mildred had of course turned out to be Mathias' Bessie, and had also been working with her mother. It had all been a trap. And she had fallen for it.
She let herself be comforted by the fact that she had gotten one child out, but her heart pained at the thought that the other would have to grow up with her mother, who she had now barely any love for.
"You can kill her now."
The words that had come out of her mother's mouth after she had her precious twins. The permission she had given Bessie. Elisabeth had meant nothing to her mother. She had only been needed for one thing: to fulfill a prophecy. The prophecy was what her mother loved. It was the only thing she loved in the world.
The pain of a cramp came crashing forth from within her body and she suddenly fell to the ground of the sidewalk she was walking on, letting out a piercing cry into the night. She let the cramp pass and then stood up, knowing the afterbirth needed to be delivered soon. She had to get to her sister.
Elisabeth turned onto Tower Bridge road and made her way to the bridge, but what she saw stopped her in her tracks. Hanging from the Tower Bridge was her sister. Eleanor was completely lifeless. A noose was around her neck, her body glowing in the moonlight.
Elisabeth let out a howling cry and ran to the walkway above the bridge. As soon as she got to the rope she was pulling on it with all her might. It burned her hands as she pulled and then it slipped back through her fingers. She cried out and tried again, but it was no use. She was too weak, too distraught to pull her sister back over.
She let herself fall to the floor of the walkway as the hot, messy tears poured from her eyes. The cry that she let out now was almost inhuman. It was like the cry of an animal. It was the cry of knowing that her sister had died for her. That her sister had sacrificed everything for her. They had both known they might die, but they’d had no inclination that this is what Bessie would do. And she cried even more over the fact that she had treated her sister like dirt for so many years of their lives. It was the fact that her sister didn't deserve this. That Elisabeth didn't deserve to live. But she lived anyway. Elisabeth slammed her hands against the floor of the walkway, over and over and ove
r again. She needed help. She couldn't do this.
And so she took out the pocket watch, given to her months before, and sent a message to the only person she knew that could help her. Their relationship had always been secret. A secret between the two of them. And she knew he would help her and keep the secret of what had happened tonight.
She called Henry.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Tower Bridge loomed over her. And then she saw darkness. But it kept coming back, and then disappearing again. Back again. Gone again.
"Elisabeth!"
Back again. Gone again.
"It's okay."
Back again. Gone again.
"Oh, my god. Please no. Please no."
Back again. Gone again. Was that Henry? Had he come like he said he would?
Someone was moving her body. She felt it. She was being carried. Her eyes opened and she saw stars above her. It was such a starry night. On this night. When her daughters had been born. And her sister had lost her life. But they were gone now. Gone forever? She didn't know.
"Stay with me."
She couldn't open her eyes anymore. It was too difficult. Her eyelids were too heavy.
"Elisabeth! No!"
And then they shut.
She was back in Ireland, standing at the edge of the cliff. The sea was spraying her face with a soft mist. The sun was beginning to slowly creep over the horizon and bring in a new day. And then Abigail was at her side, the wind blowing her hair around her face.
"Is this heaven?" Elisabeth asked.
Abigail looked at her, smiled, and then looked back out at the sea. "I'm not sure."
"What do you mean?"
"It could be heaven, but it could also be some sort of in-between place. Are you ready to leave everything behind, Elisabeth?"
Elisabeth looked away from Abigail and back out at the sea. "I'm not sure. I named her after you, you know."
Abigail nodded. "I know. That was very kind of you, but I don't know if it's something I deserve."
"Of course, you deserve it!"
When Abigail looked back at Elisabeth, her expression was solemn. "I should have done more, to get you, Eleanor, and Elijah away from her. I should have done more."
"What could you have done?" Elisabeth asked. "Seriously? She would have found us. You did the most courageous thing by staying and enduring it all."
A small smile crept onto Abigail's face. "I always thought of you three as my children."
"Are you dead then?" Elisabeth suddenly asked. "Did they—did they kill you?"
Abigail nodded.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," Abigail said. "Please. Don't be. But your mission isn't done. I know your goal was to keep your daughters away from your mother, but that hasn't happened. Not entirely. And one day, they are both going to need you. And I know you are going to want to try and find the other one. But you can't. You need to know she is safe for now, but attempting to find her only allows them to know that you survived, and it puts the other one in danger."
Elisabeth nodded. She didn't know what else to say.
"Now go," Abigail said. "Go make me proud."
When Elisabeth finally opened her eyes, after being in a deep sleep for three days, the morning sun was slowly creeping into a room she didn't recognize. At first, her initial reaction was fight and flight, for she thought she was back at Mildred's—no Bessie's—flat and she had never escaped, or they had somehow found her. But then she realized this was an entirely different place.
It appeared to be a young girl's bedroom. There were dolls scattered about the room, a dollhouse in the corner, and a little tea table in another. The door to the room opening broke her concentration.
A girl around the age of ten appeared in the doorway, holding a tray of medical supplies. When the little girl saw Elisabeth awake, she quickly turned around and ran from the room. Had Elisabeth frightened her? Where was she? Who was this little girl? Was Henry here?
And then he was there. Henry walked through the doorway, followed closely by a woman a few years older than Elisabeth. The woman looked familiar, but she couldn't place where she knew her from.
"Henry," Elisabeth said quietly.
He came around the bed and took her hand in his, kneeling next to her.
"It's okay," he said quietly. "Don't try and overexert yourself. This is Dorothy," Henry beckoned to the familiar looking woman, "she's a midwife I had helped out a few years ago when I was still in London. She was the first person I thought to bring you to."
Midwife.
The word made Elisabeth realize how she had known this woman. She had interviewed her all those months ago in the little café. She was the woman who’d been beaten by her husband, and therefore Elisabeth hadn't hired her. And she had hired Mildred—Bessie—instead. Her heart beat faster. Why had she allowed herself to judge this woman because of what she had seen? Henry said he had helped her. Had he helped free her of her husband? Whatever she had seen had probably been a memory that was buried deep in the past. But she couldn't look past it and had hired Bessie instead. And that had led her all the way back here.
Realizing Dorothy and Henry were waiting for her to speak, Elisabeth finally broke herself from her thoughts.
"Thank you, Dorothy," she said. "I truly appreciate it. I should have hired you. I remember you from my midwife interviews."
Dorothy smiled. "No hard feelings, miss. Everything happens for a reason. I'm a true believer in that. I took care of delivering your afterbirth and everything should be fine now except for the occasional after-birth bleeding."
Dorothy had Henry wait outside for a moment while she changed the dressings on where Elisabeth had bled profusely and then helped her change into a new gown. Finally, Henry reentered the room and Elisabeth looked to him.
"You came," Elisabeth said to Henry, who had perched himself at the edge of her bed.
"I said I would," he responded. "I'm sorry this happened to you. I could tell how deeply you wanted to protect your daughters, and I'm sorry it didn't work out that way."
Elisabeth shook her head. "It's fine. Maybe Dorothy's right? Maybe everything happens for a reason?"
Henry looked as if he was unsure about that. She knew that life was still tough for him, even though his son had an actual mother who would help raise him now.
"What exactly happened?" he asked.
She had been dreading this question. How could she possibly tell him it had been Bessie, the mother of his child, who had done this to her? But she did. She told him, and they suffered through it together. She knew she couldn't keep secrets from this man.
A few days later, Elisabeth and Henry sat in front of a fire Dorothy and her daughter had made before going to bed. Elisabeth had finally been able to get up and move around after several days of being bedridden. Henry had told her earlier that day that he would be going back to America tomorrow, and she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. On the sofa, they sat far apart from each other, but it still felt close to her.
"What do you think you are going to do?" Henry finally asked.
Elisabeth spoke, but continued to watch the fire crackle in the grate.
"I don't know," she said. "I have no money. No transportation. I can't go back to Mathias, not that I intended to. I have to keep him safe and how could I possibly show up, no longer pregnant, with no explanation of what I had done with our children? I truly don't know. My plan had been to use the money I had saved to travel, but I left all of that at Bessie's flat when I fled. I have nothing. Not even my children."
"You have me."
Elisabeth looked at Henry and then everything crumbled. All the walls she had built to protect herself from the world, to keep the secrets from everyone, even Mathias, fell apart. This man knew everything about her. Even the things that no one else knew and would probably never know. Tears poured down her face and Henry moved close to her, pulling her into him.
"It's okay," he said softly against her ear,
attempting to comfort her.
A few moments passed while he held her and when they finally pulled apart, Henry looked at her for a moment, and then leaned in and placed his lips on hers. It was just a kiss at first, but then it turned into something passionate. It was as if there had been a small flame between them, but then someone had poured gasoline onto it and now it was a raging fire that couldn't be put out. Within a minute, Henry was on top of her, moving his hands over her body, and then a hand began to move under her shirt and then she realized where they were, what they were doing, and placed a hand on his chest.
"Henry," she said.
And then he was off her and down on the other side of the sofa as if he had just realized that she was vermin and he wanted nothing to do with her. But it was the act they wanted nothing to do with.
"Elisabeth," he said, looking around in fear as if someone was going to walk in on them at any moment, "I'm so sorry."
"It's fine," she said, "I am just as guilty as you are."
"But I initiated it," he said.
"And I let it continue," she countered.
He nodded, continuing to look about the room in fear.
"My wife," he said, "I love her, I, I—"
"You do love her," Elisabeth said. "And I love Mathias. But I think if we are being honest with each other, then we have to admit we have always had feelings for each other."
He nodded, beginning to break down and choke up. "I wanted it to be you and me. That day you walked away with Mathias, I hated myself. I knew there was nothing for Bessie and I, yet I let him take you."
"I didn't feel anything for you then though," Elisabeth said. "I don't mean to hurt you, but my feelings for you have only been very recent, once I realized that I could trust you and tell you things I've never told anyone."
"And my feelings for you dwindled, I thought even went away completely, when I met my wife."
"We'll never speak of this," Elisabeth said. "It was something that happened in the heat of the moment, when we were both vulnerable, and we stopped it before it went any further. This is between us."