by Glynis Smy
The flames engulfed the confession. Kitty kissed the list when she placed it into the fire. Watching the evidence fade into ash, she thought about her circumstances. Her chance as a London designer had disappeared before it had started; she was now to be an unmarried mother. If she sold the cottage, she would have enough money to help her start afresh elsewhere. She would leave town, and set up business to support her and her child.
Patrick startled her when called out for her to open the door; he stood grinning with a tray in his hands. Kitty could not return his smile. The secret she held inside suppressed all joy. She turned away and sat by the fire.
‘Supper is served, madam. I say are you feeling unwell? You look dreadful, Kitty.’
Patrick placed the tray on the table and went to her. His kind face was too much for her and she broke down in tears.
Between sobs she confessed she was pregnant. It was a shock to hear the words flow from her mouth. She could not control them, and Patrick was not the person she should be telling.
He stood staring at her, and reached out to put a strand of hair into place.
‘You were raped in the attack? My ma hinted as much. I am sorry, Kitty.’
‘No-yes, but’ Kitty stammered over her words. She regretted her outburst.
‘I will fetch my mother. She will help you. Kitty, I am at a loss. What can I do to help?’
‘No. Please you cannot tell Sarah, I am ashamed and should never have spoken to you about such a delicate matter. I apologise, Patrick. It is my intention to move away. I will sell this place and live as a widow elsewhere. My child will be raised away from scandal and gossip.’
Patrick paced the room. Kitty watched every movement he made. He wrung his hands, ran his fingers through his hair, and chewed on his lip. After several minutes she could not take anymore. She strode over to him and stood in front of him to prevent the pacing.
‘Patrick, stop. Do not fret over me. All I ask is you keep silent about my-um-secret. Maybe you will know of a buyer for the property, if so I would be grateful for your assistance.’
Patrick strode over to her, his face serious. He gently guided her to a chair and sat her down.
‘I want you to listen to me without interruptions. You will do me the honour of hearing me out. I have a solution. For all our lives we have been as brother and sister. Over these past four years I have seen you in a different light.’ He put up his hand. ‘No interruptions. These past four years I have fallen in love with you. Ah, ah, no interruptions. My mother has been aware of my feelings for the past few months, but you have not looked my way. Mr Lockwood was the one for you, or so I thought. However, he appears to have followed a different path. He was not there at your father’s funeral, which surprised me. I do not know what your involvement with him was, nor do I want to know. Your attacker defiled you. You have not denied this. Whatever secret you hold within you connected with your child remains that way. There is no need for me to know who the father is. I have my idea, but it is your business.’ Patrick took a deep breath. He looked at her his eyes glistening, but Kitty could see no sign of their usual twinkle.
‘Patrick, I must-’
‘Allow me to finish, please Kitty. I am not a man of many words, as you know, but unless I get this off my chest I will never be happy. Now where was I? Yes, your secret remains just that; your secret. My proposal is this. We should wed, be married. This will protect your honour. I suspect you are only early with this child?’ He looked at Kitty and waited for a response.
‘Yes. Forgive me Patrick this is an embarrassment.’ She hung her head in shame.
‘That as maybe, but being with child outside of marriage is more so. My mother will be told the truth. She is too wise to have the wool pulled over her eyes. My brothers will not. They tease me often enough about you, so it will not look out of place.’
‘Patrick. Please stop talking. How can I marry you? It is unfair. I love you, but I am not sure I could be your--true wife. You would be taking on another man’s child. How can you live with that?’ Kitty walked up and down the room as she spoke. The events in the past hour had taken their toll, she felt faint, afraid and now taken aback by Patrick’s proposal.
‘Consider it a business partnership. I will have a roof over my head, away from my idiot brothers, and you will have a provider. Someone to protect you. It is not a bad proposal, and I would not expect...’ he coughed, ‘all wife duties to be performed. Forgive my bluntness, but you should be aware, I would not take advantage of you. And it would be your child. How could I not love your child?’
Kitty stared at him. Here was a man who loved her, would marry her despite her condition, and yet expected nothing in return. Her heart went out to him. He offered true love. All her life she had grown alongside of Patrick. She had loved him in a different way to James, but nevertheless she loved him. She watched his face; it was serious and full of genuine concern. Patrick had never lied to her nor given her false hope. He had always been Patrick the supporter. Her true hero. Slowly it dawned on her. Her love for Patrick was true love, love that could be built upon. What she had experienced with James was a dalliance, an exciting time in her life, but not a solid foundation for marriage.
She pondered his proposition for a few seconds. It had not occurred to him her attack was only a few days previous and she would not know she was expecting a child by the attacker. Patrick had, in a roundabout way, hinted that he was aware James is the father. She stared at him as if seeing him for the first time.
Patrick, dear, dear Patrick. I have often wondered who would be the perfect man for me. My life partner. I had my eyes closed by James. Here you are. Your smiling eyes have lost their light but here you are shining my world brightly in the way you have always done. I love you.
‘How should we approach this, Patrick? I am in mourning, and cannot marry. By the time I can, my pregnancy will show and I will still be an unmarried mother. Your offer is a kind and generous one, but sadly it cannot be. I must move away. I cannot lie to you; this is not the child of my attacker. I have been foolish and was duped by someone I thought might share my future. I am tainted.’
Patrick sighed. ‘I do not judge you, Kitty. You do not have to justify yourself to me. You are right about you being in mourning, but there is another solution. Would you consider America? We could start afresh there. It is somewhere of which we have often spoken. I would have no problems finding work. A dockhand never does. I could also make use of my carpentry skills. My mother would not be left alone and she has my brothers. As for your mourning period, we could speak to your reverend or my priest, I am sure if we told them we needed to be wed to live there, then maybe they would perform a quiet marriage ceremony. Do not dismiss the idea. Get some sleep, and we will talk some more tomorrow. I do love you, Kitty; you would be doing me the greatest honour. For me it would never be a hardship, I want you to know that.’
‘It is too much for me to take in, Patrick. I will sleep on your suggestion, and give it some serious thought. I promise you that much. Thank you. And know I love you too.’
Patrick smiled at her, and this time Kitty felt the gentle heart flutter she had been waiting for, confirmation that he truly was her love.
Chapter 34
New Horizons
The S.S. Britannic rolled and dipped with the waves as it transported the pensive passengers towards their new home. During a full week spent lying on her bunk, Kitty reflected on her past, creating a period of tearful episodes. Seasickness and morning sickness had sapped her energy. Unwilling to risk more faints than the one she experienced on her first day at sea, Kitty remained in the small cabin, eternally grateful for the extra expense she paid for privacy. A crewmember tapped on the door and announced it was time to go up top, just as a fellow passenger shouted out ‘land ahead’.
She climbed from her bed, rinsed her face, and dared not look in a mirror. It was not hard to imagine how pale and wan she appeared. Very little food had passed her lips in seven days, only
sips of water and mashed down potatoes with carrot kept her sustained. Kitty stared down at her dress, and gave it a shake in the hope the creases would drop. Her clothes were dishevelled but presentable; she did not want to land looking the worse for wear. Adjusting her hat she ensured it sat in place and secured it with a mother of pearl hatpin, a parting gift from Sarah. In fear of a fresh batch of tears, Kitty shook off the image of a tearful Sarah waving goodbye from her doorstep. A tiring train journey to Liverpool docks brought about fresh tears, and on December 15th, Kitty left the shores of Great Britain. All thoughts of staying in the country were pushed to the recesses of her mind. There was no turning back, and now it was time to embrace the future. She gathered up a small bible, a parting gift from Heskel Leiberwitz. Inside she had written the names of her mother and father, Brady and Sally. Beside Sally’s name she put “Victim of the murderous Jack the Ripper.” As an afterthought she also wrote James Lockwood, family friend, RIP. The bible was to become a family heirloom connected with her past and although she wanted to forget James and his horrendous confession, she needed something to remind her never to fall for his charm should their paths ever cross in the future. She considered him dead. At no point did she wish to remember Arthur, and he was omitted from the short list. With a deep sigh, Kitty glanced quickly around the room, placed the bible into her small valise, and climbed to the top deck ready to face the next chapter in her life.
Crossing over to the edge of the deck, Kitty’s knees gave a slight wobble and she balanced herself on the railings. She stared straight ahead and inhaled the salt air, and not wishing to see the rolling waves below she avoided glancing down. The air refreshed her; although her health had improved Kitty still had a way to go before she could declare herself fully recovered. It frustrated her to feel so weak and dependant, but it was something she simply had no control over.
A large crowd gathered around her. Their eager bodies pushed and jostled for a better view. Claustrophobia and a mild nausea crept upon her, and Kitty elbowed through them towards a clearer spot in order to gain breathing space. Slowly their excitement rubbed off on Kitty. All were interested in the same thing and when the shores of America came in full view, a resounding cheer went out. A fleeting moment of panic and sadness swept over her, and again tears threatened to break the barrier she had built to protect the tender emotions.
She stroked the small mound where her child grew and knew she must forget about England and James. She vowed her child would never know of his existence. A tug at her arm shook her from her dreary thoughts.
‘Well Mrs McKinley, that is the luggage taken care of, what say you and I take a stroll towards the exit? There will be a mighty rush to get off once we land. Christmas in America, who would have thought? Ready?’
Kitty looked at Patrick and smiled. There was a fondness, a bond building between them, and she knew she had made the right choice. Theirs was a love grown over a lifetime. He would be the perfect father and already proved himself as a loving spouse. She linked her arm through his.
‘Lead the way husband, lead the way.’
The End
About the Author
Glynis Smy (nee Honeycombe), was born and raised in the coastal town of Dovercourt near Harwich, in the county of Essex, England. She married her school sweetheart, Peter, in 1979 and they produced three amazing children, Darren, Nicola, and Emma. The long hours of a nursing career and running two pharmacies ended in 2005, when she and her husband emigrated from the UK to live on the Mediterranean island of Cyprus. Now Glynis spends her time writing poetry, novels and various other projects. When she is not tapping at the keyboard she makes greeting cards to sell for charity, or enjoys a spot of cross-stitch on the back porch. Failing that she and friends sit chewing the fat over a glass of village wine.
Her poetry has been published in various places, including the on-line, Vine Leaves Literary Journal. (http://www.vineleavesliteraryjournal.com/)
Ripper, My Love is her debut novel. Her second is an historical romance, Maggie’s Child, due for release late 2012, and she is currently working on a third, The Man in Room Eighteen. A sister story to Ripper, My Love is in the planning stages for 2013.
Visit her blog. A place she likes to keep a record of her writing activities: www.glynissmy.com