Precious Bones

by Irina Shapiro

  “I understand. I must go to her. She is waiting for news.”

  “Shall I come with you?”

  “I think it’s best if I go by myself.”

  Richard looked gray as he walked Connie to the door. “Have John wait for you and come back as soon as you can.”

  “I will.” She kissed Richard and ran out the door.

  Chapter 43

  When Jane opened the door to Constance, she looked so pale and frightened that Connie just wrapped her arms around the girl trying to offer whatever comfort she could. Tom was in the parlor looking as ashen as his wife, with Pippa reclining on the sofa, her hands on her swollen belly. Connie sat down by Pippa and took her hand.

  “Dearest, Anthony Babington has been taken to the Tower on a charge of plotting to murder the Queen. I am afraid there is abundant proof and there is nothing Richard can do to help him. Only God can help him now.”

  “It isn’t true,” retorted Pippa stubbornly. “He is innocent. It’s all lies. They are trying to implicate him because he is a Catholic.”

  “Pippa, there are numerous letters in his own hand stating his dark purpose. There is no mistake. You must think of yourself and your child now. Richard would have you go north to his sister. She will take you in and care for you until the child is born.”

  “And then what?” asked Pippa suspiciously.

  “Then we will see. It’s too soon to think about all that at present. Now we must keep you calm and healthy and get you away from here to where it is safe.” Connie saw Tom’s stricken face as he realized the danger they were all in.

  “I won’t go. I won’t leave. He needs me. I will try to go see him tomorrow.” Pippa looked around the room defiantly daring them to oppose her.

  “You will do no such thing,” said Tom quietly. “You will not put us all in danger any more than you have already. I will keep you under lock and key if I must.”

  “You just try it, Thomas Thorne!” Pippa yelled at him.

  “With our parents gone, I am your master and guardian until you are wed, if you should ever be lucky enough to find a man in your soiled condition. I will decide what happens and do what’s best for the family. You will go to Richard’s sister and stay there until it’s safe to return.”

  Tom looked furious, his fists clenched at his side and his mouth set in grim determination. Connie did not envy him his position at the moment and wished she could do something to ease the tension in the room.

  “Pip, Anthony would want you to think of the baby. He would want you to keep it safe and give it a good life. That is the best thing you can do for him right now. He needs to know that you are safe.”

  Pippa looked as if she was about to capitulate, but then she raised her chin in defiance once again. “I will not leave this house until I know his fate. I might not be able to see him, but I will be here for him as long as he might need me.” With that she stormed off upstairs and slammed the door.

  “God help us,” said Tom after her departing back.

  Chapter 44

  As the golden days of summer gave way to the misty mornings of fall, the tension mounted in the Thorne household. Connie visited every day, with John in the role of protector, to keep Pippa company and help Jane keep their sister from escaping. Tom had forbidden her to leave the house, for fear that she would go to the Tower demanding to see her lover, putting them all in mortal danger. Pippa was by turns hysterical, silent, or full of rage. She hardly ate anything, and she looked pale and gaunt just sitting on the settee by the window all day looking out at the world that was now denied her.

  Connie was fairly sure by now that she was also with child, but she took no pleasure in the knowledge. She could not rejoice in her pregnancy in front of Pippa, who would most likely never see her child again after it was born; and live out the rest of her days with the knowledge that somewhere out there, was the product of her love for the unfortunate Anthony Babington. Connie suspected that Jane was with child as well judging by her frequent bouts of nausea and vomiting. Poor Tom, faced with three pregnant women, looked like he would have preferred to be in the Tower himself, but he tried to stay calm and reassure the women that everything would turn out well.

  Richard frequently came by toward the evening to collect Connie and bring the latest news, but he did not know much more than the average person on the street. Walsingham froze him out of the investigation due to his association with the Thornes, and Richard knew that he had been seen talking to Babington, although it had nothing to do with the plot to kill the Queen. They came home every night to an anxious Agnes, who feared for her own safety and the safety of John and William. She had enjoyed a nice, comfortable life until Richard became involved with Constance and she was resentful and difficult to deal with.

  As the details of the plot began to emerge, all of England was crying out for the blood of the conspirators, and they were charged with high treason and sentenced to a traitor’s death. It was rumoredthat Anthony Babington had offered the Queen£1,000 for his pardon, but the offer was rejected immediately. When Pippa heard the news, she swooned, knowing full well what the execution would entail. Tom hoped that once Babington was dead, Pippa would finally consent to go to Charlotte, and they could all breathe a sigh of relief, if only for a little while.

  Pippa’s troubles were far from over. The execution was scheduled for September 20th and Tom forbade anyone to attend. Pippa was begging him to let her go, to offer whatever comfort she could to Anthony in his final hour, but Tom was adamant. She was to stay at home with Jane and Constance, under lock and key if need be.

  The day of the execution dawned misty and gray and Pippa was unusually quiet as she came down to break her fast. She couldn’t eat a bite and just sat at the table staring into space. Her fingers kept pleating the fabric of her skirt and her hair escaped from her cap, unbrushed and unwashed. John brought Connie over early in the morning to help Jane on this difficult day. He would stay all day in case he was needed, and Connie knew Agnes was less than pleased. On this day, she couldn’t be bothered with Agnes’ feelings when she had to watch her sister die piece by piece on the inside. Pippa sat on the settee with her hands on her bulging stomach just staring at the gentle rain tapping against the window panes. She didn’t say a word; just sat and stared.

  The execution was scheduled for the morning and might not be over for some time. A traitor’s death took time, if the crowd was lucky. The first seven plotters would be marched from their cells in the Tower, and tied to wooden sledges that would be dragged by horses through the streets of London; with people looking on and shouting insults and curses. Some even brought rotten fruit and vegetables to hurl at the procession. A special scaffold had been constructed in St. Giles Field, near Holborn, where they would be hanged, drawn, and quartered by a master executioner.

  Everyone knew what a traitor’s death meant, and it was a spectacle not to be missed. The condemned would be hanged by the neck until they were almost dead, then cut down and brought around until they were conscious enough to face the next step. They would be emasculated and disemboweled, with their entrails thrown on the fire in front of them to fill their nostrils with the stench of their burning organs. A good executioner made sure that the victims were still alive and conscious to “enjoy” all the stages of the execution; until they were finally beheaded to the riotous shouts of the bloodthirsty onlookers. Their bodies were then hacked into pieces, and displayed on spikes at various important places in the city to discourage other would-be traitors from following through with their treasonous plans.

  Chapter 45

  The bells began to peal around noon to alert Londoners that the traitors had been punished to the full severity of the law. There were shouts of joy in the streets, and the pubs began to fill with hungry spectators, who were ready for a hearty meal and a strong drink after the tiring business of watching men die. Snatches of bawdy songs could be heard from outside, and Pippa finally roused herself and slowly trudged upstairs. Connie ros
e to follow her, but Pippa held up her hand.

  “I just need to be alone for a while, sister, to mourn my Anthony in private.” Connie sat back down, respecting her sister’s wishes. She couldn’t begin to understand the anguish that she must be feeling, and knew that trite words of comfort would only upset her further at a time like this. Pippa’s footsteps receded, and Constance and Jane settled down to their sewing. They had a meal prepared, but neither one of them could even think of eating it for fear they would be sick. They sat in silence, each one lost in her own thoughts.

  The shadows in the room began to lengthen, and Jane lit several candles to dispel the gloom. Tom would be home soon and they would sup together and bid farewell to this horrible day.

  “Pippa must have fallen asleep. She has been up there for hours. Shall I wake her?” asked Connie. She hated to disturb her. Sleep was probably the only thing that could offer her any oblivion at this time.

  “Let her sleep a while longer, Connie. Wakefulness can only bring her torment. We will wake her when Tom gets home.” Connie nodded consent. Richard had already written to Charlotte, and with any luck, Pippa would be on her way north by tomorrow morning. The sooner she left London, the better. They would instruct the coachman not to pass any portions of the city where Anthony’s remains might be seen mounted on spikes, and take her promptly out into the country and away from the horror she had endured. Connie continued to sew a baby gown as Jane rose to go into the kitchen and see to their supper.

  Tom came in a few moments later, brushing droplets of rain from his coat and taking off his hat. He looked ashen as he stepped into the parlor, no doubt having heard nothing but tales of the execution from his co-workers all day long. Tom sank onto a chair by the hearth and took a deep breath as Jane brought him a cup of ale. He drained it in one gulp and asked after Pippa.

  “She went up several hours ago to rest. She has been sleeping, and we dared not wake her. I will go fetch her down now, although I doubt she will be able to eat.” Jane walked up the stairs carrying a single candle in front of her. They heard her moving around upstairs, and then she called down, “She is not here.” Jane sounded scared, so both Connie and Tom ran up the stairs to the bedroom. The bed was still made and there was no sign that Pippa had ever been lying down. They checked the other rooms quickly, not really expecting to find her there.

  “The attic,” Tom said as he made for the stairs. They hardly ever used the attic, except for storing old trunks and broken furniture. There used to be a servant’s room up there, but they hadn’t had a servant in so long, that no one ever went up there. Jane had just been saying earlier that they should check the attic to see if Pippa’s old cradle might still be up there. Maybe Pippa went up to look for the crib. She might be planning to stay on in London and would want a cradle for the infant.

  Tom pushed open the door and Jane came in with the candle, illuminating the gruesome scene before them. Pippa’s lifeless body hung from a beam in the rafters, turning slowly on its own accord. Her eyes were wide open and full of horror, her tongue already turning black. There were no scratches on her oddly angled neck. She had not fought for her life once the air ran out. She simply died, choosing death over a life without her beloved. Tom ran downstairs for a knife and raced back upstairs. He stood on a crate to cut Pippa down, and Connie and Jane helped him ease her down, so her body would not come crashing to the floor. She was obviously dead. Her skin was cold and white beneath her chemise, her bare feet like marble when Connie touched them. Tom carried her downstairs and laid her down gently on the bed. He was choking back sobs and Jane turned her face away to hide her sorrow.

  Connie felt numb. She should have known, should have stopped her. Pippa would still be alive if Connie had followed her instinct and went upstairs with her earlier, rather than respecting her wishes and leaving her alone. How foolish she had been, and it had cost Pippa her life. It was all her fault; first for suggesting that Tom find their sister employment, then not doing anything to stop Phillipa’s involvement with Anthony Babington. She was too preoccupied with her own affairs to prevent her sister from ruining her life, and now she was an unwed, pregnant, suicide who would not even be buried in consecrated ground. They would bury her at a crossroads with no marker, as the sinner the Church would proclaim her to be. Well, she would not allow it. They would keep Pippa with them -- at home.

  “Tom, are there still stones out back from when father meant to build a new shed?”

  Tom looked at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. “Yes, why would you ask after them now?”

  “I mean to build a tomb for our sister. I will not allow her to be buried in the middle of nowhere with no marker and no grave. We will bury her right here.”

  Both Tom and Jane gaped at her. “Connie, have you gone mad? Are you suggesting we bury her in the back yard next to the dog?” Jane wiped her eyes with her apron as Tom sank down into a chair. Constance knew it would take some persuading, but her mind was made up. She would not abandon Pippa in death.

  “Not in the backyard. I will not have her bones disturbed by anyone. I propose we clear out the scullery and lay her to rest there. We will build a wall around her, making sure her rest is not disturbed. We can conduct a funeral service and light candles to her in our own home. No one needs to know. Pippa and her baby will be safe here with us.”

  “I must admit, she has a point, Tom,” said Jane sadly. “Phillipa will not be buried in the cemetery next to your parents. They will bury her at some crossroads, condemning her soul to an eternity in Purgatory. We cannot save her soul, but maybe, at least we can save her body. She can have a proper grave and someone to pray over her, and beg forgiveness for her transgressions. She was young and foolish, and she made a mistake. She is no sinner. She was just a girl in love for the first time with a man who used her cruelly and drove her to despair.”

  “All right. I will need some help. Can we trust John to keep silent on this matter?”

  “John won’t breathe a word to anyone.”

  “Please ask him to come in, Connie. I will need help to carry in the stones. Jane, go clear out the scullery and then help Connie prepare our sister for burial. We need to do this quickly before anyone finds out. We would have a lot of explaining to do if the Church gets wind of this. We will just tell everyone that Pippa went to Richard’s sister and decided to stay there. No one needs to know the truth.”

  Jane went downstairs to clear the scullery. She emptied the space and then swept it clean, preparing it to receive Pippa. The kitchen floor was already covered with rocks and Tom was busy mixing mortar, while John came up to help carry Pippa downstairs. Constance washed her body, removing the chemise that was soiled when Pippa’s bowels let go at the moment of death. She brushed her sister’s long, golden hair until it shone and dressed her in her favorite gown. She put their mother’s wooden cross around her broken neck, and said a silent prayer begging for her sister’s salvation.

  John lifted Pippa off the bed and carried her downstairs, placing her in a sitting position inside the small space. He leaned her head against the wall, putting her hands over her belly. Constance couldn’t help wondering if the child was still alive inside her body. There was nothing they could do to save it. It would take a surgeon to cut it out, and it was too premature to have much chance of survival. Tom took out the Bible, and they bent their heads as he read the funeral service, commending Pippa’s soul to God. After he was finished, he and John went to work steadily laying the stones until Pippa’s body disappeared from view and the wall was complete. It would take a few days to set fully, but the deed was done and no one need be the wiser. They would tell Richard, of course, but that was it. As far as the world was concerned, Pippa had left London forever.

  Chapter 46

  September 2010

  I shut off the computer and blew out the candle. It was still dark outside, but sunrise was not far off. I felt terribly sad, as hot tears slid down my cheeks. I’d known all along it was Pippa beh
ind that wall, but now I’d seen it happen. I had visualized her body hanging in the attic, and experienced the horror of her death. She had been no more than a child, and her death was so cruel.

  I hadn’t gone up to the attic since I moved in, but now I got up from my chair and walked to the stairs leading up. The staircase was narrow and steep, so I walked up slowly, holding on to the banister. I dreaded going up there, but I felt a strange need to see the place where she died. I turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, flipping the light switch. I don’t know what I’d been expecting to find, but the attic was completely empty. The walls had been painted white, and the dark beams stood out like veins against pale skin. I could see the sky lightening through the dormer windows, and I walked to the center and stood directly beneath the spot where Pippa hanged herself. The thick beam was still there, running under the ceiling all across the space. I could still see Pippa’s horrified face as she hung there in her soiled chemise, urine dripping down her leg onto the dusty floor. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand and hurried out of the attic. I would never go in there again.

  I went downstairs and climbed into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. Images of Pippa and the rest of the Thornes were swirling in my head, and I wished Adrian was here to hold me. Since coming back from Scotland, we’d been inseparable. It was as if we’d been a couple all along. When I looked at Adrian or touched his body, I couldn’t imagine that I had ever wanted to touch Tristan. Now that I looked back on it, it seemed all wrong somehow. Our lovemaking had been forced and mechanical, as compared with the unbridled passion I felt with Adrian. It wasn’t just that first night. It was every night after that. He seemed to understand my needs without me ever saying a word, and he elicited reactions from my body that I didn’t think were possible. We fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, and he seemed to read my thoughts with just one look.