by Jocelyn Kirk
“I-I thought such things were all chance…”
Megan shook her head. “No, they are not chance. Some men use a…device…to prevent their wives from becoming with child.”
Elena was indeed shocked. “A device! What sort of device?”
“Ssshhh! The use of such a thing is highly illegal.”
Elena was beginning to think her friend was suffering a mental breakdown of some sort. She squeezed Megan’s hand and implored her to be specific. “I confess, Megan, I have no idea what you’re describing.”
“I must be frank, forgive me. The truth is a man can wear a sack made of sheep gut when he lies with his wife. This will prevent her becoming pregnant.”
Elena was more confused than ever. “A sack made of sheep gut? Where does the man wear it, and how does it affect his wife’s fertility?”
Megan smiled despite herself. “He pulls it onto his member before he makes love to his wife.”
Elena blushed scarlet.
Megan continued, “The little sack catches the fluid produced by the man, and this prevents a child from forming in the woman.”
“Good heavens!” whispered Elena. “I had no idea of such things!”
“You have had no one to tell you. Your mother is dead, and your aunt is a single woman.”
“But…Megan, why has this circumstance upset you so?”
Megan sighed. “Everyone is wondering why I keep postponing my wedding, but that is the reason. I love Edward, but men of God—clergymen, that is—believe it is a sin to use the little sack. They will not do it.”
“Oh!” cried Elena. “And you are afraid of having a great many children!”
“Yes, or dying in childbirth before I’m thirty!”
Elena was speechless. Of all the circumstances that might cause Megan to postpone her wedding, this was one she had never considered. And she herself faced the same situation. She did not want to bear a child right away, and she certainly did not want to be a mother to more than two or three…but how did Ben feel about it? Did he agree with Edward?
They sat side by side, each deep in thought. Finally, Elena asked, “How did you learn about this?”
“My mother told me. When I became engaged to Edward, she had a very frank talk with me.”
“And did you discuss it with Edward?”
“I did,” Megan whispered, once again wiping away tears. “It was a very difficult subject to broach, but I did broach it. We both found to our distress we felt completely the opposite from each other. We have discussed it many times, but neither of us will yield.”
“You should not yield!” Elena immediately answered. “He must consider your feelings in this matter.”
Megan nodded. “He is a very good man, Elena, but he is religious. My mother tried to talk me out of the engagement because she fears highly religious people. I think I told you once before that I was raised in a liberal, educated family. Liberal thinkers, you may have noticed, tend to temper their religious beliefs in favor of provable, scientific facts.”
“Yes, I can certainly see that in Ben, and the British scientists as well.”
“My dear,” said Megan, taking her hand, “you must discuss this with Ben. I feel sure that he will want to protect you and accede to your wishes, but it’s well to be clear on this issue before your wedding.”
Elena nodded. “But it will not be an easy conversation…and he will want to know where I gained my knowledge.”
“You have my permission to share our conversation with him. I would have told him eventually myself, but I wanted to wait until I had made my decision.”
“Your decision?”
“Yes, to break my engagement to Edward.”
Elena felt the prick of her own sad tears. “Oh, Megan, I am so sorry!”
“I am also. But it must be done. I can’t marry him.”
There seemed nothing more to be said. They rose from the bench and walked slowly toward the town. When they neared the shop, Elena asked Megan to come in and rest, but her friend refused. “I’m going to the parsonage,” said Megan. “I must get this done while my courage is high and my spirit is resolute.”
“Shall I call on you at the farm this evening?”
“Yes, I should like that very much.”
Before harnessing the horse and returning to the farm, Elena walked to the baker’s to purchase apple tarts as a treat for the schoolgirls. As she entered the shop, inhaling the delightful aroma of baking bread, she came face to face with the strange, elusive Mr. Reed, who was about to exit. They both stopped and stared at each other for an instant; then Elena gave a slight curtsey and attempted to slip past him. To her surprise, he spoke her name. His voice was surprisingly soft, and as she turned toward him, she saw a look of kindness in his eyes. She had never been this close to him, and she was surprised to see, although he had a rather weather-beaten appearance—as though he had been a great deal at sea—he was a handsome man and his demeanor was quiet and gentlemanly.
“Miss Bellwood?” he inquired.
“Yes, I am Elena Bellwood.”
“I wonder if I might have a word with you. Would you take tea with me in that little café across the way?”
Elena hesitated at the notion of sitting in public with a man unrelated to her, with no chaperone. She was not even acquainted with him. “I-I suppose I could spare a few minutes, sir, but let us go to the Book & Candle. We can sit upstairs in my aunt’s parlor.”
“No, no,” he stammered. “I would not want to be observed by Miss Murdoch.”
Elena stared at him, and her scalp prickled. What on earth was this man about, and who was he? She was tempted to simply say good day to him and go about her business, but her curiosity got the better of her caution.
“Sir,” she began, “I cannot comprehend what you would want to discuss with me, but if you’re unwilling to be perceived by my aunt, let us step into the tearoom, as you suggest. However, I feel an explanation is due on that score before any other discussion.”
He bowed his acquiescence and conducted her in his quiet, careful manner across the busy street. They entered the little shop and procured a corner table. Mr. Reed ordered tea after inquiring politely as to her preferences.
They did not speak until the waiter had departed. Elena sipped her tea and looked up at him. He was staring at her in the way that he had, as if he had never seen anything like her.
He realized his staring was rude and focused his eyes on his teacup. “You must think me a great fool…” he began.
“No indeed. I don’t even know you. In fact, it might be a good beginning for you to introduce yourself to me.”
“Yes, but even the introduction could be fraught with…with—but I must be candid, whatever is the result.”
“Please do be candid, before my curiosity destroys me like the proverbial cat!”
He smiled. “Very well. Where should I begin? Perhaps at the very beginning would be best. My name, Miss Bellwood, is Andrew Reed, Captain Andrew Reed—”
“Captain!”
“Yes, does that surprise you?”
“Well, I…my aunt knew a Captain Reed a long time ago. Are you…are you—?”
“Yes, I am the same Andrew Reed who wanted to marry Miss Rosalie Murdoch.”
Elena was shocked into silence and simply stared at him. Her eyes traveled over his handsome face, surrounded by thick, curly gray hair. His eyes were hazel and bore a look of sadness as though he had suffered a terrible tragedy.
“But my aunt told me you had died!”
His eyes widened, and it was his turn to be struck dumb by shock. He took a breath and stammered, “Told you I had died!”
“Indeed! She said your first mate wrote her and conveyed the news that you had died of a fever in a foreign port! She was devastated and even after all these years continues to suffer from the loss!”
To Elena’s surprise, Captain Reed jumped up and paced back and forth next to the table. “Dear God!” he muttered. “It has all b
een her doing! A mistake, a terrible, tragic mistake—”
“Captain Reed, I implore you, be seated and continue your story!”
He sat but, instead of speaking, buried his face in his hands and sobbed. Elena desperately signaled to the waiter.
“This gentleman is ill. Do you have a room in the back where he might sit and recover himself?”
The waiter nodded. He took Reed’s arm and helped him rise. Elena followed them through the swinging double doors at the back of the shop into a small kitchen. The waiter indicated an alcove with a curved window seat that looked out on the herb garden in the back yard.
“You’ll not be disturbed here, miss.”
Captain Reed sank onto the seat, pulled forth a handkerchief and wiped his face. “I am sorry,” he whispered, “but the shock…I have been a fool, and I’m not the only one who has suffered.”
Elena waited silently. For the second time in one day, she sat quietly waiting to hear a secret communication from a suffering person. Good heavens, this was a day she would not soon forget!
“Can you start at the beginning, Captain Reed?” she coaxed.
“Yes. I can and must.”
Elena waited again. Her heart was beating strangely, almost as though it already knew the tale she had not yet heard.
Captain Reed gathered his strength and began his story. “Miss Bellwood—may I call you Elena?”
“Certainly.”
“You already know, Elena, that I wanted to marry Rosalie. I surmise she informed you of that herself.”
“Yes.”
“It all began in the year 1820 when a bitterly cold winter kept my ship in port for several months. I became friendly with a good man named Charles Murdoch and, by extension, with his wife and daughters. They were a happy, kind-hearted, clever family, and I liked all of them.
“As time went on, I became increasingly interested in the younger daughter, Rosalie.” He sighed. “How can one explain love? It strikes like a bolt of lightning, and suddenly one’s whole world is different.”
“So it does,” agreed Elena. “So it does indeed.”
“In time, I expressed my feelings to Rosalie and found to my joy that my love was reciprocated. I spoke with her father, who, I believe, had wished me to choose his elder daughter. But I could not love Miriam. To me, no one on earth could compare to Rosalie.”
“I can understand that,” said Elena. “She is a most remarkable and wonderful person.”
“She is. She is all that and more. We formed an engagement. I wanted to be married right away, but she convinced me to wait a year so her sister could recover from her own affection for me, which was stronger—alas!—than anyone knew.”
“Were you aware that my mother loved you?”
“Your mother? Oh, forgive me, of course, Miriam was your mother. Should I go on with my story? Some of the circumstances regarding her could very well be difficult for you to hear.”
Elena felt a thrill of painful foreboding, but she replied, “Please go on.”
“Very well. To answer your question, yes, I was aware of her feelings. She did not keep her emotions to herself, and her anger took away much of the joy of the Murdoch family when Rosalie and I became engaged.
“A few days before I sailed for the Far East, Miriam slipped out of her father’s house unnoticed, walked all the way to town, and confronted me in my cabin. She was in a rage and accused me of toying with her affections. I was impatient to get her off the ship and was not as kind or understanding as I should have been.”
“What a terrible scene!” whispered Elena, thinking with sympathy of her poor mother.
“Indeed! When I had listened for quite some time to her tirade, I ordered her to go ashore and leave me in peace. In the throes of her incoherent anger, she seized a small knife from my work table and attempted to stab me—”
“Good lord!”
“She cut my arm and I grabbed for the knife, but she bolted out of the cabin and up the ladder to the deck. I ran after her, but she reached the pier before I could catch her. She stopped on the pier and turned back to me, and the rage on her face made her nearly unrecognizable. I stopped also and implored her to bury her anger and accept the fact that I loved her sister.”
The image of a small knife saved in a chest in her mother’s bedroom made Elena shiver. She knew now whose knife her mother had preserved all these years.
Captain Reed poured more tea and paused to let his emotions subside. He looked at Elena with concern. “Are you quite all right, Elena?”
She nodded. “Please continue, sir.”
“The day we were to sail, my mate became ill and was forced to stay behind. I hired the first willing man I could find, a farm worker named Tom Hatten. He had been employed by Rosalie’s father but had been dismissed for some infraction that he swore he was innocent of. He was keen to go to sea and make his fortune, and he was strong and hale so I took him on.
“As I bade goodbye to my beloved Rosalie and her family and prepared to board ship and set sail, I saw Hatten speaking with Miriam. They were standing on the pier a little apart from the others and as I glanced in their direction, I saw a movement of her hand as if she surreptitiously passed something to him.”
“What on earth could she have given him?”
“At the time, I had no idea. But I suspect now that she gave him money in exchange for his promise to write a false letter to Rosalie.”
Elena needed a few moments to absorb this chilling fact, but then her mind raced ahead.
“But even if this Hatten person wrote a letter to Aunt Rosalie claiming you had died, that would not have prevented you from returning to Mystic. But you have stayed away all these years.”
“That was my tragic error,” he whispered, “and I will despise myself forever for it.”
“Then why—?”
“Elena, I also received a letter. It was written in dear Rosalie’s hand, and the news it brought broke my heart. She declared herself mistaken in her feelings. She regretted entering into an engagement with me. She withdrew from it.”
Elena stared at him. She was utterly, completely speechless. Only one person could have imitated Rosalie’s handwriting well enough to fool her lover…Miriam!
Gasping for breath, she finally managed to whisper, “My mother…”
He nodded. “I committed the greatest mistake of my life when I took this letter as Rosalie’s word. I should have journeyed here immediately and learned the truth for myself.”
Elena stood up and walked about. He watched her with concern in his gentle face. She glanced at him. He appeared strangely calm now as if some mental dam in his mind had broken and he could perceive a new reality.
Finally, she seated herself and regarded him closely. “Captain Reed, you have been here for two or three months. Why have you not called on my aunt?”
He shook his head. “Pride…and anger.”
“Anger because you thought she had broken the engagement?”
He shifted in his seat and calmly watched her face. She shivered and pulled her shawl tight about her shoulders.
Captain Reed took her hand and held it. “No, Elena,” he said slowly, “not anger that she broke the engagement. Anger that she gave—that she gave our child to—that she gave away our child.”
Elena stared unseeingly, and in that instant, flashes of thought raced through her mind. She struggled to quell them, to think rationally. His hand was holding hers tightly, but she managed to pull away.
“What on earth are you talking about? My aunt has no child.”
He regarded her, his hazel eyes looking deeply into hers. She tried to suppress the crazy thought that his eyes were the same color as hers. She shifted around on the seat. She stood and paced, barely aware of what she was doing.
“I-I must be going.”
“Elena,” he said softly. “You can’t run away from the truth.”
But Elena ran. She turned abruptly and hurried through the kitchen, nearly collidin
g with the waiter. She ran through the tearoom, ignoring the startled glances of the patrons. Reaching the street, she raced to the only sanctuary she could think of—the Book & Candle.
Willa looked up in surprise as Elena slammed into the shop and ran up the stairs. Her aunt had gone to the Morgan home, and Elena was glad. Right now, she wanted only solitude—solitude to think or not think, to understand or to deny. The truth was hammering in her brain and her heart, but she could not face it. “No!” she cried out loud. “No, no, no!”
She paced about the parlor, so filled with trepidation and anxiety she was quaking. She pulled open the liquor cabinet to pour a glass of sherry but then slammed it shut again. She would not dull her senses with sherry; she must think. She must think clearly.
She forced herself to sit, but it would not do. She was soon pacing again, for only movement gave her feelings any relief. Then her eye fell upon Rosalie’s desk, and the tidy piles of correspondence thereon reminded her of something. She had taken a packet of letters from her mother’s bedroom before leaving New York. She had never looked at them, but now…if she could find the courage to read them, she might learn the terrifying truth and be forced to face it.
She ran into her bedroom and pulled boxes willy-nilly from her closet, tossing the contents all over the room. At length, she found what she was seeking, a thin packet of letters bound in a blue ribbon. She threw herself on the bed and tore the ribbon off; then she jumped up and slammed the bedroom door and locked it. She did not want to see her aunt; she could not face seeing her.
Elena’s heart gradually ceased its hammering, and her brain began to recover from its first shock. She forced herself to slow down. She arranged the pillows on the bed and sat back against the headboard. She took a deep breath…and opened the packet.
The letters were not arranged by date, so she looked through until she found the earliest one, dated June 15, 1821. She unfolded it slowly and glanced at the signature. Then she began to read.
Dearest Miriam,
I am sorry to repay your kindness by causing you pain, but I must withdraw from our arrangement. I have spent the past week in tears feeling that I would surely die of a broken heart. To lose Andrew in such a horrible way and then to give up our child…it is too much for me.