by Jocelyn Kirk
I don’t have funds sufficient to travel to New York, but I trust that you care enough for me to send me money for the journey. Mother and Father are not the least bit suspicious. They believe Elena to be your child; our ruse worked very well. There will be no need to enlighten them if I also live in New York.
I’ll find work in New York and procure a place where Elena and I can live inexpensively. You will not be deprived of her. I know you and Clyde love her very much. But she is my child, and she’s all I have left of my beloved Andrew.
With love,
Rosalie
Elena’s forced calmness dissolved, and she burst into tears. For a few minutes, she could read no further for her flooding eyes could see nothing. She snatched a towel and laved her face with cool water from the ewer on her bureau.
Elena found the next letter, dated July 21, 1821. She did not open it with trepidation for she knew the truth and had little else to learn. She sighed and quivered, suddenly feeling a severe mental exhaustion. Forcing herself to focus, she perused the letter.
Dear Clyde,
The conventions insist that I address you as “dear,” but I am very far from thinking of you in that light, despite the fact that you are my sister’s husband and—I once believed—my friend. Your letter reached me this morning, and its implied threat hurt me very deeply. Yes, I did sign an agreement for my child to be adopted by you and Miriam, but I did not expect the two of you to hold me to it if I found it impossible to endure.
All the arguments you set forth are true: if I claim Elena as my own and my father learns of it, he will no doubt disinherit me; I have no means to support her in a comfortable style; people might learn of her illegitimacy and this could taint her for life.
But, Clyde, love generally will find a way. I implore you, do not hold me to this terrible agreement.
Clyde, I beg you.
Rosalie
Elena choked back a sob at the pain implicit in that letter. She seized the next one and read:
Miriam and Clyde,
I have spoken to an attorney, and he has told me there is a chance I can recover my child, but it might take years of legal procedures. He advised me against it, saying that the circumstances surrounding Elena’s birth would become public knowledge during the numerous court battles.
I have concluded that it is in Elena’s best interests for me to concede the matter and pursue it no further. I know you can give her a comfortable life and I cannot. However, I petition for one boon: I must see her one more time. You must bring her to New Haven, and I will meet you there. If you do not, I will work night and day to pay the legal cost of recovering her, and we will all be damaged by the ensuing war.
Rosalie
Elena threw the letters on the bed, leaned back, and shut her eyes. Several other missives were in the packet, but she had no strength to read them. Her thoughts were in turmoil, but one concept kept repeating in her brain—illegitimacy.
She, Elena Bellwood, was a bastard.
She sank down on the bed, feeling so weary and sick that movement seemed impossible. But a sudden knock on her chamber door made her sit up rapidly.
“Who is it?” she cried.
“It’s Willa. Are you ill, Elena?”
“Yes…I have a dreadful headache.”
“Should I send for Miss Murdoch?”
“No! No, indeed, Willa. I’ll rest a bit and then return to the farm.”
“Shall I harness Blackie for you in about a half hour?”
Elena dragged herself from the bed. She must return to the farm before her aunt came home. She straightened her dress and hair, wiped her face, and opened the door. Willa’s startled eyes told Elena just how deranged and disheveled was her appearance.
“Elena, you have been crying!”
Elena tried to smile. “Yes. I spent some time earlier with Megan, who was upset about her…situation with Edward, and then I developed this horrible headache.”
“You should lie still and wait for Miss Murdoch. I’ll fetch you an ice wrapping and—”
“No. Thank you, Willa, dear, I must return to the farm.”
“Then I’ll harness Blackie and drive you.”
“You are an angel, Willa, but I’ll be quite all right. You know how Mrs. Croaker is. She will force all the girls to tiptoe about the house so that I can rest. I will be well looked after. However,” Elena added, “you can certainly help me harness.”
The two girls soon had the horse in the shafts, and with a wave and a thank-you to Willa, Elena drove off at a fast trot. The confusion and whirl of emotions in her mind had subsided and been replaced by a new, unfamiliar emotion—rage. She felt angrier than she ever had in her life.
“I have been betrayed!” she cried aloud as Blackie trotted rapidly over the lanes toward the farm. “I have been betrayed by all of them! Miriam, a thief and a liar! Rosalie, who gave me away because I was an inconvenience! My father—Clyde Bellwood—he wasn’t even my father!”
Elena shook her head in disbelief. The strange man who had been staring at her was her real father. Where did he come from? How did he learn of her existence? Had he always known he had a daughter? No. She was not angry enough to believe Captain Andrew Reed had known about her and done nothing. But he was as guilty of betrayal as the others! Obviously, he had lain with her aunt—dear God, her aunt was not her aunt—he had lain with Rosalie and then sailed away without knowing if she were with child.
Elena slapped the reins, and the horse broke into a canter, nearly toppling the gig as he went round the corner to the farmhouse lane. Elena turned him into the paddock and entered the house. Mrs. Croaker was making tea for the girls, who all crowded around her as she entered.
“Girls,” she said, with as much cheerfulness as she could muster, “please excuse me. I have some urgent business to attend to.”
She closed herself in the office, seized a sheet of paper and wrote as rapidly as she could.
Aunt Rosalie,
Perhaps I should address you as “Mother,” but this is not a term I could ever apply to one who shuttled me off to be raised by others. Perhaps you had good reasons for what you did, but at this juncture of my life, I cannot forgive you. I cannot forgive any of you.
I will close the school at the end of this year and use my savings to travel to another place. Please don’t attempt to contact me. You will never see or hear from me again.
Your bastard child,
Elena
As soon as she had written the letter, Elena tore it into bits, dropped her head on her desk, and sobbed. She could not say those words to Rosalie…good, kind Rosalie who had been betrayed by her own sister far worse than Elena had been betrayed by her. She forced herself to stop crying and seized another sheet of paper. This time she addressed her letter to “Captain Andrew Reed, Harbor Inn.”
Dear Captain Reed,
Our conversation distressed me more than I can say, and for the time being, I do not want to see or talk to you. But I must advise you on one matter: call on Rosalie. My suffering right now is nothing compared to what she has suffered in believing you dead and then having to give up her child, the child fathered by the man she loved deeply.
I confess that I’m very angry, perhaps unreasonably so. I feel ill-used by every one of the players in the drama of my birth.
Please tell Rosalie that I can’t see her for the present. I will contact her in a few days when I’m calmer.
Elena Bellwood
Elena reread her letter and then called Mrs. Croaker. “Take the gig, and deliver this letter to the Harbor Inn. You can purchase foodstuffs at the same time, and save yourself a trip to town tomorrow.”
Mrs. Croaker was all compliance. She ordered the girls upstairs to pursue their studies, and Elena promised them she would be up soon to hear each of them read. When the house was quiet, she fixed herself a bit of bread and butter and settled wearily in the parlor. No sooner had she finished her repast than she heard a knock at the door. She peeked out a wind
ow and saw a strange horse tethered to a porch post. There was a man standing at the door, but she could not see his face. She considered simply not answering the door, but the knocking would bring the girls downstairs. She sighed and opened the heavy portal.
James Scott stood before her. “James!” she said in the first moment of surprise. Remembering her manners, she pulled the door open and gestured for him to enter.
He stood inside the door, hat in hand. She noticed how tall and handsome he was. He had lost much of his boyish air since taking on the responsibilities of a ship’s captain and now appeared confident and manly. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and his brown eyes twinkled warmly as he greeted her.
Elena poured sherry, and they settled in the parlor. She felt certain he brought a message from Rosalie, and she was trying to mentally steel herself for the difficult conversation that would ensue. James seemed reluctant to speak at first, but after several sips of sherry, he said, “Miss Bellwood, I came…I came to inquire after Miss Garrick. I hope she is well after her turn this morning.”
Elena was confused for a moment for she had completely forgotten Megan’s dilemma. “Oh, oh, yes, I believe she is quite well. I intend to call on her this evening.”
He was silent. Something important was distressing him. Did he indeed bear a message from Rosalie? She attempted to encourage him.
“James—may I call you James?”
“Of course, miss.”
“You must call me Elena. Let us dispense with these surnames and titles, for we are friends, are we not?”
“We are indeed, and I’m honored that you’d think so.”
“James…is there something you wish to tell me? Certainly you do not need a specific reason to call. You’re always welcome. But you appear to carry a burden you would like to share.”
He ran his hand through his hair and shifted. “Aye, a burden indeed. But it may be a severe mistake to share it.”
“I will not importune you. But if it concerns my aunt, I would like very much to hear what you have to say.”
He looked completely surprised. “Your aunt? No, no, I have nothing to say of Miss Murdoch. As far as I know, she is quite well. Did you not see her today?”
“No, I did not. And I’m very relieved that you have nothing to report as to her health or well-being.”
James set his glass down. “I should go, Miss Bellwood…Elena. If I stay another minute, I shall surely tell you my secret, and I fear you’ll despise me for it.”
Elena could not suppress a wondering smile at the absurdities of life. Here was a third person attempting to tell her a secret! All in one day! Well, her curiosity was aroused now, and she was determined to hear it.
“James, whatever you want to tell me, please speak freely. I will certainly not despise you, and I won’t repeat your confession to a soul.”
James rose and walked across the room to a window. He pulled back a curtain and looked out. “There,” he said softly, turning back to her, “there, yonder a bit down that road, is my torment, my terrible secret.”
Elena wished she could make sense of his rather poetic words, but she could only stare at him. He walked back to her and retrieved his hat. “Now, tell me you don’t despise me.”
“I certainly do not,” she replied, “for I have no idea what you are talking about!”
“You don’t comprehend me?” he said, and then sadly added, “I suppose it would be impossible for you to conceive of such a circumstance…”
“James, for goodness’ sake, can you please be more explicit?”
“Very well!” he cried, and the face he turned to her was full of pain. “I love her! Is that explicit enough? I love her!”
Elena, still confused, sat silent, waiting for more. James returned to the window and stared out, his body rigid with frustration. After waiting in vain for some elucidation, Elena walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “James,” she whispered, “please confide in me. Who is it that you love?”
He turned to her and smiled a sad, bitter smile. “Megan Garrick, Elena. I love Megan Garrick.”
Elena was so shocked that she stood completely immobile, her hand still resting on his shoulder. He took her hand gently and led her back to the sofa. They sat side by side, each lost in thought.
Finally, James turned to her. He was calmer and attempted to smile. “Now you know my terrible secret, Elena. I don’t know how or why, but I fell in love with her on board the mail boat when we first journeyed to Mystic.”
“Good heavens! Did you know then of her engagement?”
“Yes, I knew it. I beat myself daily over my feelings for her, but it was no use. I knew I could never speak of it to anyone, especially herself. And to disguise how I felt, I fear I paid too much attention to Miss Willa McCrea. That was wrong of me, and I hate myself for it.”
Elena shook her head. “There you are too hard on yourself, James. You were kind to Willa, but I personally never saw anything improper in your behavior to her.”
He looked relieved, and Elena was pleased that she had given him a bit of comfort. Should she tell him that Megan had broken her engagement to Edward? No, Megan had not given her permission to speak of her decision to anyone, so she must not.
James leaned back and sipped his wine. “Why has she not yet married Reverend Ries? Their wedding could well put me on the path to be cured, but the months go by and still they are only engaged. What are they waiting for?”
Elena said nothing, for she could neither lie nor tell the truth. She attempted to take the conversation to another tack.
“James, why after all these months have you told me of this? What led you to be open at this particular moment?”
“It was the event of the morning. I was below decks on the Gremlin preparing to go to sea, when I heard footsteps coming along the pier. I went topside and saw Miss Garrick standing on the pier looking out at the river. I called to her and wished her good morning, but when she turned, I saw her face all wet with tears. I went to her straight away, but she wouldn’t tell me what was wrong. But at one point she cried very hard and fell into my arms. Can you imagine, Elena, how that was for me, loving her in silence for so long, to say nothing of the agony of seeing her in such distress? I held her in my arms, and she wept on my shoulder. I thought my heart would break in a thousand different ways.”
“And then I happened along. I almost wish I had not, for your sake.”
“I was right happy that you did. Another moment alone with her and I would have poured out my heart.”
Elena sighed. “Love is so difficult, so very difficult…”
“Aye, it is indeed.”
They sat silently, listening to the clock opposite them ticking away the seconds. Finally, James rose to go. Elena made a quick decision; she must give him a little hope. To do otherwise would be too cruel.
“James,” she began, “I should not mention this, but I believe—I do not know for certain, but I believe—Megan has decided not to marry Edward.”
His face showed his amazement as he stared at her. “How—when…?”
“I repeat, I don’t know for certain. Perhaps a tiny bit of hope may be yours, but only a bit.”
“How do you know this, Elena? And why would she decide not to marry him?”
“I can’t speak further of this, James. I said only that much so that it might lift your despair. But don’t let hope overwhelm you.”
“That would not happen. I know how far above me she is and how unlikely to love me or even notice my existence. She’s an angel from another world. Why would she look at a poor sailor?”
Elena sighed inwardly. As much as she liked James Scott, she wanted him to leave. She longed to be alone with her own problems. Knowing what she now knew about her birth, she felt it was highly likely that her own heart would soon be broken. What man would want to marry a bastard?
“James, I promised Megan to call on her, but I have a headache and will need to renege. Will you stop at the Garrick
farm and give her a message for me?”
“With great pleasure,” he replied, “although I’ll pay for it in pain when I have to ride away.”
Elena scribbled a quick note to Megan and with relief saw James out the door. She had not lied when she mentioned a headache. How could one have a day such as this and not have a headache? She sank onto the sofa and pulled a quilt over her face. Her mind raced from idea to idea and image to image. The first shock of learning the details of her birth was over, but her mind was wrestling with the resulting circumstances—Rosalie was her mother! Andrew Reed was her father! The woman whom she had believed to be her mother was a thief and liar responsible for destroying the happiness of two people who deserved happiness!
Yes, that she must admit to herself. Rosalie and Captain Reed deserved happiness. Whatever had been their mistakes, they had not intentionally caused harm to anyone. Rosalie had suffered so she, Elena, could have a prosperous, happy life, free from the stain of illegitimacy. They had indeed made two grave mistakes—lying together before marriage was the greatest. The other was accepting at face value the letters they had received that had destroyed their happiness.
When these thoughts had gelled in her mind, Elena found her anger had dissipated and been replaced by a profound sadness. Her true parents should have been happy together, and she should have been happy as their child. But the evil machinations of one person had torn it all asunder, and that one person she had called “Mother” and wept at her death.
From the turmoil of her thoughts, the seeds of a plan emerged. She must confront her parents and make her peace with them. Then she must tell Ben Garrick the truth and release him from his engagement. When these painful duties had been performed, she would leave Mystic and seek work in another place. No doubt other towns in the region needed schools; she would open her own or find employment as a teacher.
Elena was so engrossed in her thoughts, she did not hear the front door open. She was aware of nothing until footsteps approached and Mrs. Croaker cried, “Miss Bellwood, are you ill?”
Elena sat up quickly, too quickly. The blood rushed from her head and, combined with little food and a great deal of agitation, caused her to swoon. Mrs. Croaker shrieked and rushed to her aid. The faint was quickly over, but Elena was helped into bed and ordered to stay there.