7: The Seven Deadly Sins

by Bach, Tia Silverthorne

  Her Majesty’s gift had been completed, along with the special jewelry—a large piece of jet surrounded by three rubies, each held in a four-pronged setting—for the portrait she had commissioned William Segar to paint. While the painting was complete, and resplendent, Thomas had wavered on his previous notion to give the gift in private, so he had kept it locked away. Instead, he had presented the Queen with a new girdle book holder. It was embellished like none other, and he had discovered a method for making it lighter so it would not tug on her waist.

  She had praised him repeatedly, and thus invited him to join the royal table on several occasions, but he knew he would never be satisfied until she praised him publicly. It weighed heavily on his mind.

  A number of nobles were to arrive within the week, and Elizabeth had sanctioned another royal ball.

  Indecision had kept him awake the previous two weeks, listening to the sounds of his wife’s breathing as she slept. If she discovered his secret, there was no way to know what she might do.

  Date: July 2, 1585

  Location: Windsor Castle

  Trumpets sounded, and Thomas leapt from his chair by the fire and ran to the window.

  Henry IV, King of France, dismounted and strode to the castle steps with his shoulders back and his head high.

  Thomas snorted. King indeed. With all the intrigue surrounding the man, ‘twould be a wonder if he sat on the throne much longer. With a sigh, Thomas returned to his seat and gazed at the fire.

  Seven times more, he fled to the window, but no one of equal importance to Queen Elizabeth arrived. It was the eighth time that was fruitful. King John III of Sweden arrived, leading his wife, Gunilla, an exceedingly handsome woman, along by the hand. He seemed an amiable sort, and he laughed each time his long beard moved with the blustery wind. On his coattails rode in Frederick II, King of Denmark, and his wife, Sophie.

  Those were the nobles Thomas had been hoping would grace Her Majesty with their presence.

  He paced, muttering, arguing with himself.

  After the twentieth time across the floor, he threw his hands in the air. “I surrender!” With that, he hurried to his wardrobe to dress. As he tied the laces on his breeches, he thought about the pending celebration. All the nobles would be gifted precious articles with gemstones set by his hand. While each and every one was beautiful beyond belief, the one he had crafted for the Queen was stunning.

  He made haste to his workshop and stuffed the key in the slot to open his strongbox. Once the article was checked over a final time, he breathed deeply, returned it, and fastened the latch. His feet were lighter as he made his way to greet the newly arrived nobles.

  As he passed his apartments, he met Kelleigh in the hall. She caught him by the hand. “I am thinking I shall go with you this eve.”

  His heart thundered in his chest. If she attended, there was no way he could present the jewelry without her knowing. Trying to stay calm, his mind grew tangled with ways to convince her to change her mind. It seemed he waited a beat too long.

  “What are you plotting?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “Plotting? Nothing! I would be honored if you would accompany me to the ball.” He hoped his face looked as sincere as he was trying to make it.

  She pulled one side of her mouth back and lifted an eyebrow. “All right. I shall have my ladies attend me and be ready by supper.”

  Kissing her hand and giving a little nod of his head, he nearly fled down the halls, sure the roaring of his heart would give away the absolute horrified state he was in. Once he turned enough corners to be sure she would not see him if she had followed, he leaned his back against a wall and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch a breath.

  “Sir Thomas Russell!” Lord Hale’s voice boomed through the corridor like the echo of cannon fire.

  Thomas jerked upright. “Lord Hale, it is always a pleasure making your acquaintance.” It was the furthest thing from amiable, but he had to get rid of the portly lord, and pleasantries often worked to his advantage. “What brings you to this wing?” Hale’s rooms were on the far side of the palace, and Thomas could not recall a reason the man should be where he was standing.

  “I thought to take a turn in the gardens. Would you accompany me?”

  “Nay. I must decline. I have an audience with the Queen. I was on my way to her when I came upon you.”

  Lord Hale’s face split slowly, and his eyebrows lowered. “Were you not resting against that wall?”

  Thinking quickly, Thomas answered, “Only for a moment. I had been running quite a ways before I turned this corner, and I paused to regain my breath.”

  “I see. Well, do not tarry here with me. Continue on, Sir Thomas.”

  “Thank you, my Lord.” He bowed and turned away.

  “Might I ask?”

  Without turning around, he paused his forward motion. “Yes, my Lord?”

  “Will your lady wife be accompanying you to the festivities this evening?”

  “Yes, my Lord. She shall be.” Fury propelled his legs as he stomped away. Lord Hale’s implication could not have been missed. It took Thomas the length of the walk to return to a calm state. By the time he knocked on the Queen’s receiving room door, he hoped his colour was back to its usual state.

  A servant opened the door and ushered him in. When he was announced, the Queen glanced at him only a moment before returning her attention to King Frederick.

  Thomas moved around the room, greeting those he knew, and allowing introductions to be made to those he did not. When he approached Elizabeth, her face held no warmth. He attempted to hide his shock, but he could not reason why she might be angry. An introduction was made, King Frederick stepped away for a moment, and Thomas dared ask. “Your Highness, have I angered you?”

  “Where have you been?”

  “Pardon?”

  “I sent a page to fetch you hours ago.” Her cheeks grew pink.

  “My most ardent apologies, Your Majesty. I received no summons.” Panic gripped him tightly around the edges of his heart. If her ire was risen, ‘twould be worse later. He watched as the fine muscles around her face grew tight.

  “No?”

  “Of course not, Your Highness. I would have come forthwith.”

  Looking down her nose at him, she loosened her jaw. “Very well. Please do attend my guests. They have been admiring your work—” she gestured to the painting of herself where the fine craftsmanship of the pieces he had created were captured forevermore “—and expressed desire to make your acquaintance.”

  Ashamed, he bowed deeply. “Please, accept my most humble apology.”

  “I do. Now go.”

  He scurried away, terrified he had put the first dagger into the back of his grand scheme of recognition. For the remainder of the afternoon, he jolted whenever spoken to or touched, as though he were expecting to be carted to prison.

  At long last, the gathering broke for supper, and he was able to fetch his wife. He walked slowly towards his apartments, half expecting her to breathe fire at him when he arrived. Carefully, he pushed his head inside the door.

  Kelleigh was sitting on a stool and stood when she glanced up and saw him.

  His mouth fell open.

  On her head was a gold tiara, her reddish brown hair spilling down to graze the tops of her ears. Her dress was ivory and had a heavily bejeweled collar that dipped just low enough to draw his eyes away from her sapphire ones.

  “You look stunning.”

  Her cheeks turned bright pink.

  “Even more handsome when you blush.”

  They turned scarlet, and she lowered her eyes.

  He moved to stand in front of her and lifted her chin. “Tonight, you do not look down unless in the presence of royalty. You will steal all their hearts.”

  She smiled and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “Then we should be going. We cannot keep everyone waiting.”

  They moved to the hall, his hand in hers, but his mind returned to his workshop
, thinking of the fine jewelry tucked away in the strongbox.

  Date: July 2, 1585

  Location: Windsor Castle

  When Thomas and Kelleigh entered the ballroom, she gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

  Candles were lit in every space, lighting the room like a sunny day in the glade. Golden cloth draped the tables, and candelabra in silver adored their tops, catching the light and reflecting it back.

  He nodded. Her Highness would have it no other way. It was a night to be remembered.

  Everyone ate and danced until well into the evening.

  Just before midnight, Thomas excused himself and slipped out a side door. It did not take him long to retrieve the container of jewelry for the Queen, and he was back at Kelleigh’s side, heart pounding, before he could reconsider.

  Her eyes went to the box immediately. “Husband! What are you planning to do?” With wide eyes, she put her shaking hand on his arm. “I thought you had changed your mind!” She kept her voice low, but she hissed as she spoke, letting her anger have free reign.

  “I have decided.” His ire rose as she challenged him. He knew what was best for his family and his work, and he would do what he had settled upon—no matter the consequences.

  A single tear escaped and rushed down her face to drip from her chin. Without another word, she rose, bade him goodnight, and left.

  Anger fueled him as he stood and made his way to the Queen’s table, where she sat with all the visiting nobles. He waited to be acknowledged.

  “How good of you to join us, Sir Thomas. Pray, where is your wife? I did so want to introduce her.”

  “She was not feeling well, Your Majesty. She has retired for the evening, but she asked me to send you thanks for the honor of allowing us to attend this evening.” He smiled and bowed. “I also have brought you a gift to honor you and give you my thanks for your generosity when my father passed.” Carefully, he placed the box on the table and removed the lid.

  Everyone at the table gasped.

  A necklace and earrings sat inside, both adored with rubies, sapphires, jet, and pearls in the new, pronged setting style he had crafted.

  His breath caught as he waited.

  Gently, Elizabeth lifted the items from the box and held them up to the light. They sparkled and cast colours across the faces of the nobles seated nearby.

  He watched her features, examining every turn of her eyes.

  She dropped the jewelry back in the box and looked at him. Her face was a mask—completely unreadable. “Tell me, Sir Thomas, this gift you have presented me with…”

  “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “Did my royal coffers not fund it?”

  His heart hit his feet and glued them to the floor. “Yes, Your Grace, they did.”

  “Then how, do you suppose, have you gifted me anything at all?”

  Tingles raced up and down his body, lighting his skin on fire. “I…”

  Elizabeth rose from her chair, lifted the box, and dropped it in the lap of Queen Gunilla. “That, my boy, is a gift. What you have brought to me is nothing more than what I have commissioned.” The Queen slammed her hand on the table. “A gift indeed. Remove yourself from my sight, and do not return.” She leaned forwards so only he could hear. “I am not blind. Do not suppose you can make a name for yourself by using me. Be gone to London on the ‘morrow. Do not return. I never wish to look upon your face again.”

  He fled.

  Date: July 26, 1585

  Location: On the banks of the Thames near St. Paul’s Cathedral

  Kelleigh gasped and pulled the woolen blanket more tightly around her shoulders. For three days, she had lain ill, sweating, vomiting, and seizing.

  Running a hand through her hair, Thomas’s heart broke while he watched her waste away as the ague consumed her body. Ashen skin made his brown hand look much darker as it contrasted when he brushed her cheek. “Do not leave me. Please.”

  Between chattering teeth, she managed to form three words. “Happy birthday, husband.”

  He gripped her hand. “I cannot go on in this life without you.”

  She squeezed his fingers in return. Suddenly, her body convulsed, and her eyes rolled back to show the whites.

  “Nurse!” Over and over he screamed the word, praying the woman would make it before Kelleigh choked as he tried to hold her body to the bed.

  After one last jolt, she lay still.

  Pulling away, he kept his eyes pressed tightly closed and prayed. Slowly, he cracked one eye a small bit and followed it with the other.

  Kelleigh did not move. Her chest was still, and her eyes gazed blankly. At her throat, her necklace lit, as though burning from within, and turned to ash, blowing away on the light breeze in the room. There was not even a mark to indicate the jewelry had ever been there.

  He gasped and threw his body over hers, pressing himself to her, asking God to make a trade. She could not be gone. Never had he loved another as he had cared for her, and he vowed never to do so again. A guttural roar filled the halls as he loosed his grief and anger with himself.

  “I can go back!” he screamed into the air. “I can repair the rent I have split in our lives! Please, give me one more chance to do right.” As the sobs choked him, he prayed silently, shoulders shaking.

  But Thomas knew it was too late. His heart split open his chest and fell from his body, along with a river of tears. “I love you. I love you. I could never say those words enough. To hear you speak them in return one more time… I would give my own life to hear it.” Every muscle went limp. “I am sorry.”

  Date: May 12-13, 1863

  Location: Wake County, North Carolina, Anderson Homestead

  Walking up to the small white house nestled in a dense copse of pine trees, Thomas drew in a deep breath. He had almost everything he’d ever wanted, but not many miles away, hate and ego threatened to destroy everything.

  He hadn’t been home in months, and the sight of his beautiful wife on the front porch took his breath away. She was gliding back and forth on a broken down, old wooden swing, her belly swollen with his child. Seeing the deteriorated house—broken shutters, rotting wood, uneven steps—brought back familiar feelings of anger and determination. He couldn’t let his child live in a shack while the well-maintained main house sat only half a mile away, barely used.

  Of course, Cassandra didn’t mind. She loved him with an intensity he’d never experienced before. Just one year prior, they’d lost their first child six months into the pregnancy. His wife didn’t let it deter her dreams any more than living in squalor did. She always made the best out of everything, even being home for months by herself while he fought in the damned war. Although he felt obligated to fulfill his duty, his heart wasn’t in it. He was back for only a few days to say goodbye to his father. A man who might not even notice his middle son’s presence.

  Shaking off the thoughts swirling in his head, Thomas picked up his pace. His wife’s gaze fell upon him, and her face lit up like a candle in a dark room. She pushed herself up from the swing and stood at the top of the steps. Covering the distance between them at a slight jog, Thomas wrapped her in his arms and swung her around. Loosening his embrace, he feathered kisses around her face before taking her mouth with his. His hands slipped to her belly, and as he bent to kiss it, he was rewarded with a strong kick.

  Straightening, he smiled. “How’s the little one doing?” Feeling the reminder of his growing child took some of the worries away. He couldn’t wait to meet the baby and just wanted the little one to be born healthy and for his wife to make it through without complications. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Please, don’t worry about me. Everything’s going great. Doc Turner says the baby will be here in another month or so.” Her hands joined his, and they made a circle of love around their child.

  Thomas wanted to stay in the moment forever, but as much as he cherished every second with his wife, he needed to check on his father. “How’s Dad?”

 
“His health issues are too extensive according to Doc, and there’s no more he can do to help. I’ve been spending a lot of time with your father. He’s fading. We should go see him.”

  “I know,” Thomas said. Yet, he hesitated. “Nicholas is with him now.”

  Nicholas had gone straight to the main house when they arrived back home, while Thomas rushed to his wife’s side. Seeing their father together never went well. Benjamin Thomas Anderson was a hard man, and he didn’t bother to hide his preference for his eldest son. No matter what Thomas did, Nicholas was the favored first born. In their studies with private tutors, he was always at the top of his class. When he graduated, he went to Columbia University to study law and was one of the first students admitted into their program.

  He was almost finished when Zebulon Baird Vance, the son of a man long trusted by their father, approached Benjamin and requested the boys sign up for the infantry and support the South’s interest in the war. The elder Anderson initially joined in the war efforts, but a heart attack and a bullet wound sidelined him, and he was sent home. Two additional heart attacks left him on death’s doorstep.

  “You should both be with him.”

  Her suggestion brought Thomas back to the present, and he nodded.

  “Come on.” She took his hand. “Let’s go check on him.” She guided him toward their small barn.

  His horse was there, but he needed to saddle one up for his wife for the short trip to the main house. Realizing he’d been gone too long, he redirected his thoughts, not wanting the danger of having his very pregnant wife on a horse.

  As he was about to turn around and offer to walk with her, Nicholas came up on his horse, Duke, his prized stallion. He hopped down and clapped his brother on the back. “Just been to see Dad. You should head there.”

  Thomas didn’t look up to see the smug look of importance on his brother’s face. “That’s the plan.”

  “And how’s my favorite sister?” Nicholas asked, putting an arm around her. “I hear I’ll be an uncle soon.”