“My lord, your cousin, Lord Anthony Hawthorne is in the parlor,” he stated.
“Escort him in, Reed,” Asher said. “That will be all, Bates, thank you very much.”
As the men left, Asher studied his journals, until the door opened again, and he looked up to view his cousin who looked surprised, relieved, excited. “It is true!” Anthony exclaimed, coming around the desk with nary a good day, grasping Asher by the shoulders. “My God, man, you have returned. My lack of faith in the good Lord has forevermore been restored,” he said, beyond happy, smiling, too joyous, giving his cousin and best friend a hug, shaking his head ruefully. “Do the parents know? The family? When did this even occur?”
“Last night,” Asher said, smiling only slightly.
“Last night and you are reading over ledgers and business journals. You should be in bed, resting, seeing to your wife and child, and not sitting at your desk. Your businesses are well covered, not only by myself and Cousin Glory but your father and Caleb.”
“I trust you, Anthony,” Asher said as Anthony sat across from him.
“Barely. You barely trust your own brothers I do not question it, not anymore. But still, you should be in bed, cooed over by the female servants.”
“It seems as if I have rested enough. I aim to fully engross myself back into my businesses by weeks end.”
“Asher,” Anthony said, placing his words carefully. “In this I ask and I speak respectfully. God has given you another chance. God has given you many chances. How many times have you come near death, my lord? If you were to die today? Is this where you would want to spend your last moments? In your study, alone? Reading over numbers and facts?” Anthony stood up, his jaw clenched. “If it were I in your shoes, my cousin, I would spend the last moments with my family, with those that could return and receive love. In warmth and family.”
He left before Asher could respond.
Sitting at his desk, Asher stared at the number for endlessly long moments until they became unreadable in his eyes and then with a shove of his chair marched resolutely from his desk and up the stairs, pausing at his door before opening it and his heart stopped, mended, beat again.
Angel and Glory were playing upon a blanket on the floor in front of the fire, playing peek a boo, Glory laughing in squeals as she tried to find her mother behind her hands, standing on chubby legs, smiling so impishly and beautifully and looking so much like Angel he could do nothing but stare at his daughter and wife. He felt nervous, exhilarated, but could not think of anything to say, but stared until Angel looked up, catching him in the doorway, smiling shyly, so unused to seeing him up and moving on his own accord she felt as if she was dreaming, under water.
“Good afternoon…husband,” she said quietly and Glory followed her mother’s glance and smiled prettily, toddling to her father.
“Dada,” she said, smiling, not realizing that he wasn’t the same, statuesque figure that had always been there. “Pick up, dada,” she said and was surprised and thrilled when he actually did so but took it in stride, kissing his cheek and mouth as she had always done so.
Asher could not help but smile as she kept up a running conversation while he bounced her hesitantly in his arms. She seemed to enjoy that and he kept it up until she wiggled to get down and he regretfully placed her on chubby bare feet where she ran back over to her mother, falling and Asher raced to her, but she was up and back in her mother’s lap before he had a chance to reach her.
“Is she always so happy?” He asked, closing the door behind him and sitting down in a winged chair next to the fire, less than four feet from his wife and daughter.
“Always, she is such a happy baby, everyone in the household dolts upon her. And she is not unduly spoiled.” She said as Glory sat in her lap, playing with a rag doll. “Mrs. Bates made this doll for her, she closely resembled it off of Glory, and I am just as fond of the doll as Glory is.”
“It is a nice doll,” Asher said in all due seriousness.
“Yes, very nice. Did you go over your ledgers?”
Nodding he tried to relax in his chair, in his bedroom with his wife and daughter. “Yes, all was as you spoke of. Anthony visited.”
“Oh, what a shock you must have given him.”
“That I did.”
Angel laughed softly before rocking Glory in her arms that still played happily with her doll and Asher’s fist tightened, why was it so hard to give in? Why couldn’t he enjoy them? Why couldn’t he live? He thought of Anthony’s words and unfolded himself from his seat and took a few hesitant steps to his wife and daughter, wanting more than anything to sit next to them before stopping himself, nodding. “Thank you wife, for the reprieve, I shall return to the study.”
“My lord,” she interrupted. “Won’t you, stay just a tad bit longer? I…I missed you.” She said.
“I cannot ms, but thank you for requesting as such. I shall see you at dinner…it is still served at 6?”
She didn’t answer, dropping her head and finally he noticed a small nod.
Asher spent the rest of the day at his offices, cheers going up throughout each business as his office managers interrupted the company’s productions. Asher noticed that the six o’clock hour passed by and kept studiously working at his last office until well after nine o’clock biting back any emotion he felt at not showing up for dinner.
Why was it so easy for him to fall back into the routine of keeping her at a distance? Keeping his family at a distance? Had he not suffered enough? Had Angel not suffered enough? Everywhere he went even his mangers, his employees raved about her, she could do no wrong, had done no wrong.
He walked back to his home and stood outside for long moments, it was dark, only a few windows lit with candles or fires. It was quiet, the landscaping was slightly changed, ivy growing in warm and delightful lengths upon the brick, flowers in bloom. He walked slowly up the stairs, feeling old, perhaps it was the white hair, he turned his key in the lock and was met with the same smells he’d known his entire adult life. But it was different. It was warmer, the smells of breads and sweetmeats and flowers filling the air. The house felt contented…at peace, jovial and welcoming at the same time, small touches different, warmer in the house.
He steadily made his way up stairs, ashamed of himself for missing dinner especially after so many long nights Angel had no one to speak with, had taken care of him, Glory his household and his businesses. And once again he’d abused her person.
He marched resolutely to her room only it was half open and she wasn’t in there. He looked in Glory’s room, but it to was empty. He went to his room and his heart eased its frantic beating. Both her and Glory lay nestled under a homemade tent stretched out from his bed to three winged chairs near the fire, held in place by heavy books. Underneath their tent was a mound of toys, unfinished rolls and apples in a small basket, and no less than six story books. The two were fast asleep.
He didn’t know what woke her from sleep, but Angel stretched, rubbing her eyes and glanced out from the tent, smiling softly to see him staring at her. “Hello,” she said. “I am sorry for the fright your room is in but Glory and I usually do this here, we can, I can move it to my room,” she said, crawling out of the tent and stretching in a short linen shift and nothing more.
“Where would I be?” He asked, closing the door behind him as she pulled the books from under the tent, careful not to disturb the sleeping child, and replaced them on his shelf.
“Sometimes asleep, sir, sometimes you would sit on the chair before the fire.”
“And I never spoke?”
“No,” she said quietly, nervous pulling on her hair that laid in beautiful curls around her shoulders, down her back. She seemed to notice her nervous habit and dropped her hands. “Oh, oh, you must want to ready yourself for bed, do you want a bath?” She asked. “I can draw it and set out your night clothing.”
“No, no, you have done more than enough for me, my lady; I disturbed you from your sleep.”
“I am awake; I’m not used to sleeping so much.”
They stood nervously together. She had taken care of his most personal needs, watched over him, fed him, bathed him, done more than enough as his wife and caregiver. “I shall bathe.” He said. “Please feel free to do as you will.”
He drew his own bath, washed himself from head to toe before drying efficiently and quickly and then placing on loose pants. When he walked back to his room, she was sitting on a chair near the fire and reading a book. She didn’t know what to expect, didn’t even know their sleeping arrangements. She did not want to be alone; she did not want to be without her husband. No matter that he missed dinner or kept her at an arm’s length. She still yearned for him. “Do you want us to sleep here, or not?” She asked.
“Yes, my lady,” he said and it was he who gently pulled Glory from under the tent as the family retired for the night.
She didn’t know what woke her up only that Asher was up, staring in the fire, it was still dark outside, the fire had died out and the only light was the moon beams casting the room in silvery glows. For long moments she did not move, simply stared at him as he stared at the dying cold embers of the fire.
“My lady,” he said, it wasn’t a question, a mere statement recognizing the fact that she was now awake and observed him.
“What is amiss?”
“I stare into this hearth trying to remember, it has only been a little over twenty four hours since I’ve…awakened. There is nothing, only a blackness, the only thing I remember is the day of the treatment, stilling myself, knowing the pain would be unbearable.”
“Should we…do you wish to see the doctor?”
“No. Not yet at least. Every other thought I think to myself, I’ll wake up again and Glory will be grown, gone and you, you will eventually seek dissolution of this marriage and you to will be gone. And when I awaken, old, stooped, there will be no one here.”
“I will not leave you.”
“Do not make such promises.” He returned.
“I do not make it lightly. How does it feel?” She asked gently. “How do you feel?”
“Lost. As if I was the only one frozen in time and just recently thawed. The world has changed, imperceptible but still enough. There are no words, indescribable as to how I feel. You and Glory have changed. The world has changed and I have not.”
“What can I do to help?” She asked.
“There is no more you can do, my wife, for all that you have done has been more than any person could ask of. I owe you a king’s fortune in gold.”
“It is my duty and honor.”
“How can you say such?” He asked, turning towards her in the darkness, Glory shifted in her sleep and he dropped his voice. “I’ve been the worse of husbands to you, a bastard, uncaring, cruel and abusive. So I doubt your sincerity when you speak such pious words of selfless love,” he said angrily. “So tell me dear wife, why do you say such?”
“Because I love you,” she said, humiliated, quietly.
“I fail to believe such foolishness. No one is that selfless. I think after this night, it would be best for you and Glory to leave, my lady, to one of my country estates. I need peace…peace after waking, peace from you, peace from that child of yours. So therefore, my lady, I release you from your well intentioned promise to stay by my side…forever, what foolish and brash words you speak. I have realized, if I have not realized anything else, I do not wish for you as a wife, nor your daughter as mine.” And he left his wife and daughter alone, leaving quietly through his doors.
He hadn’t changed, she thought brokenly to herself, staring madly about the rooms, hurriedly cleaning up the mess she’d made with Glory, it was well past two in the morning as she hurriedly cleaned by the dim light of one small candle before quietly picking Glory up and placing her in her own room and then going back to Asher’s room, cleaning the bed, dusting, packing, removing any item or piece of clothing of hers or Glory’s until finally at 5 in the morning, after finishing scrubbing the carpets and floors she left his room, perfect, bare of anything she’d ever brought in, but instead of retiring, she washed, dressed, cleaned up hers and Glory’s’ room, and was waiting for Mrs. Bates when she started the kitchen fires at 6:30, with a sleepy Glory in her arms.
“Mrs. Bates,” she said.
“Yes, my lady,” she was well use to the early mornings of the lady, often finding her in the kitchens knee deep in kneading flour or scrubbing the floors from the wee morning hours, but Angel was fully dressed in traveling clothes as was Glory in her arms, Mrs. Bates heart sunk.
“Mrs. Bates, I’m leaving.”
Annabelle’s, the maid, jaw dropped. She dropped the basket of laundry she was holding and stared at the thin but resolute figure of her lady. “My lady?” She asked questioningly, her heart beating with trepidation; she adored the lady as did everyone in the household. There could be no one more kinder or gentler than her, the whole staff would die for her and the wee babe, they’d given joy and love to this household even during and despite of the lords sickness.
“Mine and Glory’s’ trunks are at the door, the hackney has pulled up already. I had Harold go and hail one. The lord is gone, as to where, I know not.”
“Are you going to one of the country estates, my lady?” Mrs. Bates, her deep eyes filled with worry and concern. “My lady, whatever is amiss, please, I can help, or…or,” she could not think of more to say.
“No I am not going to a country estate.” Angel said firmly. “For your loyalty I thank you, mistress. You are a wonderful and able housekeeper and I would not have survived this year without your support.”
“My lady, where are you going? What shall I tell the lord?”
“I left him a letter. Thank you Mrs. Bates, thank you Annabelle, thank you for everything,” she said. Glory shifted in her arms. “Good bye.”
Chapter 12
Asher kept her letter in his hands, he’d read it more than one hundred times, staring at it dimly it had been six days since Angel had left, he’d called off the party, spoke little to his family and had immersed himself back into his businesses, becoming even more selfish, cruel, impenetrable. His wife and child had gone and secretly he’d wanted it this way, had forced her away, he could not live with the fact that he’d awaken one day and they would be gone and he’d be old and near his own death bed. Better for her to leave, he’d started the proceedings for the divorce and had set aside a sizable sum for her and Glory’s’ needs and his own need for the sanitarium that he’d eventually be locked into.
He did not know exactly where she went, only knowing that she’d found a lawyer who refused to disclose her location and through him he sent correspondence.
He looked at the letter again.
Asher,
There is no more that I can say or do that would allow you to trust me. I have given you everything that I have, from my body, to my love to my very soul. I cannot suffer your abuse or rejection any longer. Nor will I allow Glory to suffer your abuse and for her concern and peace I leave. For you will to turn against your own flesh and blood out of bitterness and resentment and hate. Peace be unto you.
He knew that she spoke the truth; he could not refute her words and denied his parents request at a resolution. It was for the best, he’d brought her into his madness long enough. She deserved her freedom. She deserved a life away from him. She and Glory both.
It would take months to finalize the divorce papers. He stared at the cold fire, his body refusing sleep, usually he worked throughout the night, Anthony often keeping him company and then sleeping in short bursts throughout the day, absolutely afraid to fall asleep for too long. Yet, this night, he’d not had the stomach for work and had retired to his study at home, reading her letter over again, and holding the one doll that she’d forgotten to pack, the doll that had been a favorite of both his wife and his daughter, found under his bed when he’d dropped a sleeve cuff.
The doll did look like his daughter, an
d therefore, his wife, golden skin, large hazel eyes and curly jet black hair. He held onto the doll as if for dear life before finally he could take it no more and he threw the doll in the fire.
There was nothing, no peace, no love, no hope, nothing except fear and blackness.
Six Months Later
His hands shook, they often did before he fell asleep, he’d not slept more than two hours at a time since Angel and Glory had left, and when he did sleep, only during the day, he’d wake up with a racing heartbeat, with shaking and trepidation until the London Times paper was checked for its date, so to the daily journal that he kept track of his days. Since she’d left he’d fallen into amnesiac states, twice. Once for two days and the other time for four days. His parents had called the doctor, notified by his concerned servants and they had kept him company as the doctors had ran numerous tests and then finally decided it was due to the electric shocks, they would forever damage his memory and cognitive functioning. He’d resolutely digested the news and had immersed himself even more in his business, fear often over taken him during the days as he hurried to transfer a couple of his businesses to Anthony and Caleb, the rest he sold, amassing a large fortune as he liquidated his assets and sold three of his country homes and a supply ship.
Asher stood, pacing around before closing his ledgers, locking them away and locking his office doors. He hurriedly got on his stallion, the only time he’d ever feel reasonably alive was racing the great beast. He did as such, racing outside the city, well past his home until hours later found him at the country side, at his sons’ grave. He got down, wrapping the stallions reins loosely around the willow tree that protected his son’s head stone from the weather. He was the only one who kept the grave manicured and next to it, the daughter that had been miscarried.
He never spoke, he just stood at the small grave of his dead newborn sons and he stared into the darkness and he wished himself as such.
“My lord,” Bates said. “Your brothers have arrived.”
Angel of Ash Page 30