The Promise

by Marti Talbott

  Mary interrupted him, “Your brother is a fine craftsman. He digs a pond for us over there.” She pointed toward a cleared area in the backyard. “It will lesson our labors considerably.”

  “Good. Miss Jackson, I...”

  This time he was interrupted when Lady Phillips began ringing her bell and yelling from somewhere in the house. “Mary! What do you do, Mary? Why have you not brought my tea?”

  “Hateful, insufferable, contemptible woman,” Mary muttered, her eyes shifting from side to side. She half curtsied, rushed back inside and closed the door in his face. Then slowly, she turned and slumped against the door. Her eyes had begun to sparkle and her grin was mischievous.

  LONG AFTER HIS BROTHER had gone to bed, Uriah blew out all the candles and walked to the sitting room window. Lost in thought, he paid no attention to the sleeping horses or the way the full moon made the meadow an emerald green. “What would you have me do now, Colleen?”

  He was about to turn away when he caught a glimpse of movement in the far off trees. Slowly, a figure emerged. He tensed his muscles, waited as the figure passed the horses, and headed toward the cottage. It was definitely a woman and as she drew nearer, his heart skipped a beat. Her long auburn hair hung loose and as she walked, the extra length on the back of her silky, light blue gown gently caught on long blades of grass, released, and then caught again. She looked like a queen.

  “Colleen,” he whispered. He hurried through the darkened room, opened the door and quietly pulled it closed behind him. Then he started into the meadow. He was filled with anticipation, yet he slowed, unwilling to frighten her and unsure of the reason for her visit. Two feet from her, he stopped, held perfectly still and let her examine his face. The seconds seemed eternal.

  “I cannot be certain,” she said finally. She lightly bit her bottom lip and looked away, “It was such a childish poem. I vowed I would never forget, but I have. Can you remember it?”

  When he answered, his deep voice was rich and gentle. “Should I not find you...”

  “That's it!” said she, her eyes dancing with excitement. “Should I not find you before the end of my life...”

  “I will smile in fond remembrance of Colleen, my sweet wife.”

  She threw her arms around him. “It is you! You have found me!”

  He held her tight in his strong arms. His heart pounded against his chest as he took in a relieved breath. “Aye, I have found you.”

  She stayed in his embrace, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Her eyes were closed and she clung to him as though she would never let go. Then she pulled away just enough to see his face. “I can scarce believe it! You cannot know how I have prayed you would come. However did you find us?”

  Smiling, he gently wiped the tear from her cheek, “I assure you, it was no easy task. They neglected to mention your new names.”

  Impulsively, she hugged him again, but then she realized she was in the arms of a man. She nervously drew away and straightened her gown. At length, she sheepishly looked back up at him, “You are not at all as I remembered.”

  He chuckled, “How well I know. I gave you every opportunity of recognizing me?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose you did. Why not just say who you were?”

  He didn't answer. Instead, he offered his arm, “Shall I take you home?”

  “If you insist, but slowly. I've a thousand questions.” Her embarrassment faded and she easily took his arm. They began their stroll back across the meadow in the full light of the moon and they carried themselves well, she, once more the daughter of a Stuart, and he, the eldest son of Lord Rodes.

  “It was a horrible joke you played on Lady Phillips,” he said.

  “How can you say that? It was you who taught me the jokes.”

  “Was it? How foolish of me.”

  Mary began to giggle, “What despicable children we were, always into mischief. Do you recall...”

  He stopped and turned to her. “I have felt such shame for not finding a way to keep us together. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “Forgive you? We were children, what could you have done?”

  “Something...surely. If only Mother had loved us enough to live.”

  Mary gently touched the side of his face. “Oh, Jonathan, do you resent her still? She was so very ill. She had an issue of blood that would not stop.”

  “Did she? Do you mean...she bled to death?” He bowed his head. “I had not guessed that.”

  “It’s not the sort of thing a woman tells her ten-year old son.”

  “But she did tell you.”

  “Hardly, I overheard it.”

  Uriah's smile returned, “Why am I not surprised to hear that? You were always lurking outside one door or another.”

  “You mean we were always lurking?” Mary began to snicker. “Do you remember how you hid us after your mother died? For hours we stayed in that loathsome stable closet.”

  “I neglected to bring Rachel's doll and she cried the whole time.”

  “And Christopher...” Mary caught her breath. “I cannot believe it. I have only just this moment realized Caleb must be Christopher.”

  “Aye. He is the same Christopher who bit me and would not let go until I let him out of the closet.”

  “That's right, he did.” She grinned, but slowly her grin faded. “Elizabeth does not know, and you must not tell her. She remembers nothing. When she asked, I said our mother died at her birth and our father of the fever.”

  Uriah wrapped her hand around his arm again and started toward the road. “I see. Caleb remembers something, but he does not say what. He does not ask and when I broach the subject, an unhappy expression crosses his face and he will not allow further conversation.”

  “Good.”

  “Good? But Colleen, he has a right to know. Our father was a great man and Caleb is his son.”

  Too sharply, Mary pulled her hand away and turned to face him, her eyes flashing with anger. “Is it not enough we suffer daily? They murdered our fathers and forced us to look upon the bodies! How do we tell Caleb that?”

  Uriah reached for her and drew her close again. He felt her tension and waited until she relaxed. “I hoped you had been spared that memory.”

  Mary closed her eyes. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees and a dog barked somewhere in the far distance, but she didn't notice. “How could I forget? It was my birthday and I imagined we were to see a fine surprise. So I hurried down the hill to the green by the Cobbler‘s shop. Isn’t that how it was?”

  “Yes, but you need not speak of it.”

  “I dream of it. Do you dream of it?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Mary took a deep breath and went on, “Your mother cried out and when I looked back, two soldiers stood beside her. She held Rachel in her arms and Christopher was clinging to her leg. 'Do not look!' she yelled. I did not discern it correctly. Soldiers lined both sides of the road wearing their fine regimentals and they excited my anticipation further. Only later did I recall how they did not smile. Oh, Jonathan, I did not suspect. I was such a stupid, stupid child! When I saw the King's carriage, I thought we were to be presented and taken for a ride.”

  “I should have protected you.”

  She looked up and smiled in an attempt to comfort him. “You were very brave, you know. When we arrived, you pulled me around and hugged me so I could not see. But the soldier grabbed my hair and forced me to look, just as...”

  “Just as Barrett grabbed your hair?”

  “Yes.” She laid her head back against his chest. “Barrett reminded me of that awful day, as though I need reminding. Sometimes, for no cause at all, the sight of our fathers covered in all that blood will flash in my mind. There was even blood on the signs hung around their neck.”

  “Was there? I had not remembered that.”

  “I could not yet read the word, so I memorized the letters. Later I understood. The signs called them ‘thieves,’ did they not?” Mary waited, but there was n
o reply. Slowly, she raised her eyes to study his face. “I did not mean to give you pain.”

  “I thought I remembered every detail, but I had forgotten the blood on the signs.”

  She left his arms, leaned down, picked a blooming rose and smelled its perfume. “We will not speak of this again. I've a happy life, particularly now that you have found us. I’ll not let them spoil another day of my happiness.” She handed him the flower and curtsied. “For you, Milord.”

  He grinned, “For me? How very kind you are.” He took the flower, briefly studied its perfect red color and with a bow, handed it back. “For you, Milady.”

  “What? You give me a common rose? I am deeply offended, Sir.”

  “Very well.” He tossed the rose aside, offered his arm, lifted his nose in the air and waited. When he looked, she had put just two fingers on top of his arm as though she were too proud to touch him.“I will throw you in the pond Caleb digs for this.”

  “Yes,” she answered in a snooty voice, gingerly walking on down the moonlit road beside him. “But not until it has water.”

  “And you will see it never has water?”

  “I will indeed.”

  At that they both laughed. While she took his arm the right way and happily looked up at the moon, he picked a fresh wild rose, playfully touched her nose with it and handed it to her.

  Said she, “How I have missed the laughter. Our house was always filled with laughter when we were children.”

  “Indeed it was. Did Caleb tell you about the Ghost of Lord Rodes?”

  “I...cannot quite recall where I heard about it.”

  “It’s just that Caleb says he met a man who does not believe my father was a thief. Have you made the acquaintance of Mister Moore?”

  “He was with Caleb once when I went to town and I somehow recall his face.”

  Uriah was surprised, “From Shrewsbury?”

  “Yes, but I cannot recall precisely why.”

  “Perhaps we met him at a ball.”

  “Perhaps. That is what I miss most, all the dancing and the music. I have always wondered what became of our society. Why didn’t they come to our aid after our fathers were executed?”

  “They were mostly Jacobites and Butcher Cumberland allowed few to live after the battle at Culloden.”

  “I see.” She glanced around until she spotted a cat, leaned down and scooped it up in her arms. “Oh, I have wondrous news. I have it still.”

  “Have what?”

  “Your mother's Bible.”

  They were not far from Lady Phillips' manor when Uriah stopped to look at her. “Do you? But how?”

  “I snatched it just as that despicable man hurried Elizabeth and I away.”

  “That is wondrous news, do you read it? As I recall, you were quite put out with God at the time.”

  “I was, and my resentment lasted a considerable time. Then I recalled what your mother told me. She said I should always cling to that which brings me comfort.” Mary leaned down and let the cat slide out of her arms. “Have you taken a wife?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Mary did not hide her disappointment well. “She resides in London, then?”

  “It was a forced marriage.”

  “A forced marriage? Surely you did not...”

  “Of course not, but it was forced just the same.”

  “In what way? How does a woman force a man?”

  “My wife approached the subject at a most precarious moment. She took advantage, you see.”

  Mary put her hands on her hips and glared at him, ignoring a petal from her rose as it drifted to the ground. “Advantage of what?”

  “Of my weakness, naturally. She confiscated my most treasured possession and refused to return it.”

  “You married against your will – merely for a possession?”

  “And she cried.”

  “She...cried?”

  Uriah was becoming defensive, “It is not as simple as all that. I cannot abide a woman when she cries. In fact, I would do most anything to stop her tears.”

  “And that is it? You married a woman you do not love merely because she cried and threatened to keep a possession. I must say, I could hardly have high regard for a man who is so easily persuaded.”

  He jutted his face forward and looked her square in the eye. “Indeed? Had I guessed you would resent me for it later, I would not have married you!”

  Mary's mouth dropped. At length, her lips curled into a smile, her face flushed and she playfully smacked his arm. “Oh you, you have tricked me!”

  “And far more easily than I thought.”

  “How vicious of you to remind me. At the mere age of eight, I truly believed if we were married, they could not separate us.”

  “Yes, but you do agree you forced me?”

  “Well, now that you mention it, I suppose I did keep your father's letter from you. And true, I did cry. I cried for days as I recall. Do you forgive me?”

  Uriah took her hand and brought it to his lips. He lightly kissed it, and then looked into her eyes. “I have never regretted it, though at the time, I hardly saw the advantages. Colleen...”

  “Mary. You must learn to call me Mary for Elizabeth's sake.”

  “Mary, I...I wonder, now that we have found each other again, can we...what I mean is, shall we make another vow? Shall we vow never to be separated again?”

  His eyes were so tender and his voice so soft, she did not hesitate. With a nod of her head, they were engaged. He grinned, as did she.

  They passed under the stone archway before she spoke again, “Where did they take you?”

  “To Dublin. We were given to Ruth Carson, my mother's widowed sister, and it was she who gave us the Carson name. We stayed but two years before the Earl of Bute came to get us. From there, we went to the south of England. And you?”

  “We were given to an unfamiliar woman and taken to Liverpool where we were sold.”

  “Sold?” he gasped.

  “The one who bought us, for a mere pittance mind you, did not want us once we refused to work. She easily gave us over for the price of a clean bed and a meal at the Inn. Our new parents found us to be unmanageable as well and gave us away. I truly cannot say which offended me more. We abided with several more sets of parents after that. We saw the south, then Scotland, then the north of Wales and the south again. I do not blame them. It was not easy to feed two unnatural children, and as sure as we were given to understand one way of living, we were off.”

  “It was just as I feared.”

  “It was not so bad as all that...not until the end. We immediately took issue with our last Papa. He enjoyed strong drink and we enjoyed hiding his bottle. Oddly, his breeches split apart when he bent, far more often than they should.”

  “You cut them?”

  “No, I merely did not sew them properly.”

  Uriah chuckled, “Remind me to have someone else tend my mending. How did you manage?”

  “We ran away. We, rather I, falsified our references and we took position with Lady Phillips, in this place of little consequence.”

  The back door opened, Elizabeth grabbed Mary's arm and pulled her inside. In the light of only two candles, the room was nearly dark and Elizabeth's face looked grave. “I have been beside myself.”

  “Has the Lady discovered my absence?” Mary asked.

  “It is not that.” Elizabeth waited for Uriah to close the door. “You are so late, Mary. I worried your joke...” She looked at Uriah suspiciously. “Did he harm you?”

  “Of course not,” answered Mary.

  Uriah walked to Elizabeth and looked lovingly into her eyes. “I could never harm either of you.” Then he leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “It is good to see you again, Miss Jackson.”

  Mary bit back a hint of a tear.

  Elizabeth quickly stepped away, “Mister Carson, please! I had hoped the two of you would become more amiable, but not that amiable!”

  CHAPTER 3<
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  July 1763

  The very next day, Mary and Uriah were married, yet it was not the kind of marriage either had imagined. One year later, Mary gave birth to a son they named Jonathan Samuel Carson, and a year beyond that, Caleb married Elizabeth. Uriah kept his position in London returning home only once a month, Caleb remained a carpenter and the sisters stayed on with Lady Phillips. Two weeks after Caleb and Elizabeth were married, Uriah asked Caleb to secretly meet him in Manchester. They were happy to see each other, but Uriah was somehow solemn, unfriendly, and constantly aware of all those around him. When they mounted their horses in Manchester, Uriah headed west.

  “For what cause do we go west?” wondered Caleb. When Uriah didn't answer, he shrugged and fell in behind, fully enjoying the peaceful countryside on the well traveled dirt highway to Shrewsbury.

  Nearly an hour later, Uriah finally paused to allow his brother to catch up. “I wish to have a word with you and the horses need water.” He turned off the highway, led the way across a grassland and then up the slope of a hill. At the top, he stopped to look back. He saw just one man, driving an empty wagon and concerned only with mopping sweat from his brow in the late afternoon swelter. Uriah urged his horse down the other side of the hill, and with his brother close behind, he started into the Needwood forest. At length, he came to a small, pond, surrounded by dense foliage.

  Caleb quickly dismounted, knelt down and cupped his hands. He brought the cool water to his lips, drank, and then splashed it on his face. “This is a tranquil place,” he said, drying his face on his sleeve.

  “Indeed it is. I come here quite often.” Uriah dismounted and let the horses drink their fill. He tied them to a tree, started down a narrow path until he found a large, flat rock, and sat down. He leaned back against the tree trunk and crossed his legs. Soon, Caleb had done the same. “The time has come to speak the truth.”

  “At last.” Caleb reached beneath him, recovered a small rock and tossed it in the water. “Will I be allowed to ask questions?”