She took a seat at the first pew. She always liked visiting empty churches, regardless of the denomination. She felt such tranquility there.
She closed her eyes. “Why am I here?” she repeated aloud the question Sarah asked her, only this time the meaning was much different. “Why did you send me to this strange place? Why??!”
She opened her eyes and stared at the wooden cross mounted on the wall in front of her. “I am not a bad person,” she reasoned. “I have always tried to live a good life. Why did you send me here?”
Finally, she gathered the courage to ask the question that burned her to the core. “Why did you take away my family?” she asked, clenching her fists. “The children were innocent. My husband was a decent, hard-working man. Why did you do it? Why?!”
Rising to her feet, she cried, “Why did you punish us? What did we ever do to you?!!” She fell to her knees and sobbed bitterly.
Suddenly, a white handkerchief waved in front of her face. Gasping, she looked up and saw a tall boy standing in front of her. “Madam, please do not cry,” he said. He looked to be on the verge of tears himself.
She took the handkerchief and climbed back onto the pew. Dabbing her eyes, she thanked him for his kind gesture. She closely examined him. He wore a crisp white shirt with a simple knot at the throat, black jacket, and black breeches tucked into black leather boots that brushed his knees. His auburn hair was held in check with a somber gray ribbon.
He joined her on the pew. “Why were you talking to God like that?” he asked. “I have never heard anyone dare to say such things.”
Tilly squirmed in her seat. “Well, I –“
“Are you the lady my father found in the woods?” he asked, not giving her time to respond. “The one whose husband was killed by bandits?”
She could not believe that she missed the resemblance. The boy had Benjamin’s auburn hair. His eyes were blue, not green. Still, they had the same strong, steady gaze that belonged to his father. His overall manner seemed much more mature than she thought he was. Realizing that she was probably staring, she looked away. “Yes,” she answered simply. “I was very fortunate that your father found me.”
“My name is Allan Campbell,” he said. “I presume you are Mrs. Munro?”
She wanted to tell him to call her ‘Tilly’ but recalled what Benjamin said about being so informal. “Yes,” she said. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Campbell. Your father spoke warmly of you and your family. Are you the oldest?”
He held his head high. “Aye. I am ten years old,” he said proudly.
“Well, you are almost a man, aren’t you? Do you look after your brothers and sister?”
“I try to manage the wee mongrels as best I can, but they are a rowdy bunch,” he said, with a sigh. “Stephen is the worst of the lot. I believe you have already met him.”
He must have been the young boy she met in the library. “Is he much younger than you?” she asked.
Allan spread his fingers and lightly touched each one as he named the siblings. “Angus is 8. Michael is 5. Stephen, the wee rascal, is 2.” He paused. ”Maggie is almost one. She is a baby, so I do not know if she is good or bad. Do you have any brothers or sisters, madam?”
“No, I am an only child.”
“That must be nice. My brothers will not give me a moment’s peace. I had to sneak away from the castle to come here.”
“Why did you come here?”
He pondered the question a moment before answering. “I visit the chapel to be closer to my mother,” he said. “She brought us all here from time to time. She said it was a quiet place.”
“I am sorry about your mother.”
“And, I am sorry about your family. You must be very angry to talk to God like that.”
She was unsure how to handle the situation. It could certainly be misconstrued as sacrilege, especially in the 19th century. “I hope I did not offend you,” Tilly said sincerely. “I do not understand why my family is gone and am very upset. Sometimes, people say things when they are distressed that they might not say under other circumstances.”
“I was very angry too when my mother died. My father said God sometimes needs angels in heaven so he takes good people like my mother.” He leaned closer to her and added, “I do not believe him.”
She was surprised. “Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“If we only experienced happy times, how would we appreciate them?” he asked. He smiled faintly. “Sometimes, bad things happen to good people. It does not mean God hates us. I believe it teaches us that we should appreciate the good moments and people in our lives.”
She dared to wrap her arm around his shoulders and gave him a light squeeze. “Well, that is as good an explanation as any other I have heard,” Tilly said, moved by the boy’s candor. “We just endure and hope there is a meaning to what happened, don’t we?”
“Aye,” he said seriously. “It is a great mystery.”
She held back a giggle, knowing he would be offended. He was the most mature ten-year old she had ever met. “I fear we are becoming too gloomy, Mr. Campbell,” she said. “Why don’t we return to the castle? The cook may have prepared a fresh batch of scones.”
Allan brightened at the prospect of hot pastries. He gallantly offered her his arm as they exited the chapel.
“Aren’t you afraid to walk in the woods by yourself?” she asked when they headed down the woodland trail.
“No. Someone is always watching,” he said, pointing toward a tree a few feet ahead of them. “You can come out, Robbie. I see you.”
A young man emerged from behind the tree. “Master Campbell, do not tell your father that I did a poor job,” he said, looking quite embarrassed. “He was most cross the last time you told him.”
“If you would learn to properly conceal yourself, then I would have nothing to report,” he said mischievously as they passed the sentry.
She enjoyed the banter between the young boy and his guard. Apparently, this was a daily game between them. She wondered why the other man who followed them did not teach Robbie his tricks. She only saw a fleeting glimpse of tartan before he disappeared into the woods. She decided not to mention it, lest Robbie be embarrassed even more.
When they reached the castle, they parted ways. Allan was ready to conquer a plate of scones. And, Tilly was ready to thank Sarah.
∞
Tilly found the maid in the rose-hued bedchamber that had become her home. Sarah sat by the window, sewing a piece of fabric to the bottom of a black dress. No doubt, the garment was meant for Tilly.
Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around the startled girl and gave her a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “You were right. That walk did a great deal to restore my soul.”
“Oh, you are most welcome, milady,” Sarah said humbly.
Tilly pinched the fabric of the dress and asked, “Don’t you have something more colorful?”
Sarah seemed shocked. She explained that it was the custom to wear mourning clothes for at least a year after a husband’s passing. “You should wear black for the first six months, then gray for the last six months. I regret that you have been wearing a gray gown so soon after his passing,” she said, gesturing toward the dreary dress Tilly wore. “It is all that we could find on short notice, but we shall remedy it with this gown. Do they observe such customs in America?”
As Tilly examined the dress, she nodded absently. She decided protest was useless. She glanced at the gray gown she wore. While the empire-waist dress was very flattering and was certainly better than going naked, she quickly grew tired of wearing the same gown day after day. She welcomed any change in wardrobe, even if the color would be the same, somber tone.
“May I speak freely with you?” Tilly asked. She took a seat beside Sarah.
“I do not understand the customs in this country,” she began, careful not to say in this time. “We do things somewhat differently in America. I do not wish to offend anyone.”
S
arah sat on the edge of her seat. It was obvious that the maid was uncomfortable with the prospect of sharing confidences. Still, she seemed slightly relieved. Perhaps Tilly’s revelation would explain some of the rumors that were probably spreading throughout the castle. “Milady, it must not be very different in America,” she said. “You only need a few bits of advice here and there.”
“Will you please help me? I need guidance.”
“Yes, milady, but I am certain you will be fine.”
“I will be in your debt.”
“Well, milady, if you wish to return the favor.…”
Sarah was suddenly shy. “Is there something I can do for you?” Tilly asked.
“I noticed that you spend time in the library, reading,” she said, her voice low. She tightly clasped her hands in her lap. “A proper lady’s maid should know about literature and art, so she is a good companion to her mistress.”
“Would you like me to teach you about those things?”
Sarah was flustered. “No – I mean, yes – eventually,” she sputtered.
Tilly could see how ashamed the maid was. Then, she guessed the secret. “Do you want me to teach you how to read?” she asked. She tried not to sound surprised.
Sarah eagerly nodded. “Oh, please, milady!” she exclaimed. “It would change my life!”
“It is a marvelous gift. You can expand your mind in ways you never imagined.”
“Do you think you can teach me, milady?”
“Yes. I have taught many children how to read. I am sure I can teach you in no time at all.”
“Were you a governess?” Sarah asked, her brow knitted in confusion.
Tilly silently cursed her slip of the tongue. Then, she remembered that it was not uncommon for governesses to marry their charges’ father. Didn’t Jane Eyre do it? I should tell her some scandalous story of stealing away with my mistress’ husband, Tilly thought wickedly. Instead, she replied, “I was a teacher before I married my late husband.”
Sarah did not question her story. She seemed thrilled about the prospect of learning how to read, a skill that would provide her with greater job opportunities. She asked how quickly they could start the lessons.
Tilly shrugged her shoulders. “We can start right now, if you like,” she offered.
Eighteen
Tilly was tired. Sarah and she were up until the wee hours of the morning as she began the difficult task of teaching an adult how to read. With sadness, she observed it was easier with children. After all, how many first graders worried about mending garments before bedtime?
She sat in the garden. The day was gloomy, and there was a slight chill in the air. Sarah had insisted she wear a coat. Tilly was surprised when the maid produced a sort of half jacket. It had long sleeves, but the hem of the jacket itself ended just below her bust line. Sarah called it a “spencer.” Tilly plucked the cloth-covered buttons of the gray woolen garment and reluctantly admitted it was warm, even though it was shorter than she expected.
Sighing, she stared at the page of the small blue book she held. It was the dullest book of poetry she had ever read. She supposed it might be fashionable for a lady of leisure to spend her days sitting on a bench underneath a shady tree and indulging in quiet time with a good book. Unfortunately, she could not focus her mind. She tried to read the same page five times, not grasping a single word. Yawning, she closed the book. She hoped it was not improper for ladies to take naps, for that was exactly what she needed.
“Good afternoon,” Benjamin said behind her. “It is nice to see you out of doors for a change.”
Tilly jumped. “How long have you been standing there?” she asked, slightly embarrassed.
“Long enough to see that you are not interested in that book,” he replied, chuckling. He took a seat beside here and glanced at the title. He frowned and asked, “Do you enjoy poetry?”
“I like some of Byron’s work, but I really prefer novels,” she said. “Is it wrong to read novels in this time?”
He lifted his brows at the mention of a different time. Tilly was glad he held his tongue. Instead, he said, “As long as you are reading appropriate material, there is nothing shameful about reading a novel.”
She wanted to ask what was considered appropriate. She was sure the “bodice ripper” romance novels of her day would be tossed straight into the fire in 1801. Trying to look prim and proper, she said, “I shall look to you for guidance about what is appropriate.”
“You sound like my wife,” he said dryly.
Her interest piqued, she took the opportunity to learn more about the woman. “Did she enjoy reading?” she asked.
“She would read books if I asked her,” he said, shaking his head. “I tried to broaden her mind. She was content as she was, though.”
Tilly thought that was an odd response. “Were you unhappy in your marriage?” she asked. “It is not uncommon, you know, for married people to be unhappy.”
He seemed taken aback at her direct query. She guessed her bold way of speaking was unsettling to him. “I was content,” he said. “Mary was a good woman and an excellent mother. She gave me a wonderful brood of children.”
“That hardly sounds like glowing praise,” Tilly said sarcastically. “The same could be said of a breeding mare.”
He jerked as if he had been slapped. “I did not call my wife a horse!” he objected. “I was a lucky man to have her.”
Once again, her modern bluntness landed her in trouble. “I did not mean to imply that, Benjamin,” she apologized. Boldly, she touched his arm. “I just noticed you spoke nothing of love.”
“Were you happy in your marriage?” he asked defensively.
“To be completely honest, no, not always,” she replied.
“You were not?” he asked. Obviously, he had not expected that answer.
“No. At the time of the accident, we were in therapy,” she said. “We discussed getting a divorce but wanted to give it one more try, for the children’s sake.”
She noticed the shocked look on Benjamin’s face. “It was not an easy romance,” she said. “When we met, I was 24. He was 35. That age difference may be common in your time, but it is big in mine. We enjoyed being together then, so age did not matter. We had a lot of fun.” She smiled faintly at the memory. “I moved in with him, and we were married six months later.”
“You lived together as man and wife before you were formally married?!” he exclaimed in horror.
At first, she was annoyed at his outburst. Then, she recalled that, to him, cohabitating before marriage would be wildly improper among genteel people. Sure, the common folk may have done it in the 19th century, but he probably had never heard of “respectable” people doing it. “In the 21st century, it is very common for couples of all social classes to live together before marriage,” she explained. “Don’t be such a prude, Benjamin.”
“If you are indeed from the future, I do not approve of the new way of thinking,” he said, with his arms folded firmly over his chest.
She ignored his censure. “I was thrilled when Alex finally worked up the courage to propose marriage,” she said. “It was happy moment for us.”
“About damn time….” Benjamin muttered under his breath.
She cast a dark look his way. “We were married at City Hall,” she said, recalling the location with a twinge of regret. “He did not want a big, fancy wedding. Beth and her husband Randall were witnesses. About six weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant with the twins.”
“Your husband must have been happy,” he said. “It is exciting to learn that you will be a father.”
Shaking her head, she said, “He was devastated. He already had a son from a previous marriage and told me he did not want more children.” Her voice filled with sadness, she added, “He did not speak to me for three days.”
“Was he indifferent to you for the rest of your marriage? Is that why you wanted a divorce?”
“No. He eventually accepted the news. It was a
big shock. He did not expect to be a father again and would need to alter his plans.” Tilly shook her head in disgust. She was amazed at how much his comment hurt, even after all that had happened. “Alter his plans – that’s what he said. As if I had always planned to marry an older man and have two kids at once. As if my goal in life was to be up at 2:00 a.m., alone, trying to get two fussy babies to go to sleep.”
Benjamin covered her hand with his. “I never asked Mary what her feelings were about having a large family,” he said quietly. “I always thought it was a woman’s greatest desire to raise children. Seeing the hurt in your eyes, I recognize a woman might have other feelings on the matter. We men are very stupid sometimes.”
She stared at him. That speech was awfully progressive for the 19th century. “Alex was a good man, and so are you,” she said, squeezing Benjamin’s hand. “He loved his children. His mistake was that he believed he needed to make a lot of money so that they could have everything in life. About a year ago, I told him what they needed – what I needed – was him. If he did not change his ways, I would move out with the children.”
“Did he alter his schedule?”
“Yes. I told him the same thing for years, but this time, he understood. He knew I was serious.”
“Men are fools. It sometimes takes us longer to understand matters that are so simple for women.”
She did not refute his words. “I am so glad he did it,” she said. “Even though we were still struggling, he was present for our children. They had their father during that final year.”
Something suddenly occurred to her. “Did I tell you he was a chef?” she asked.
“No, I do not believe so.”
“He was very talented. He travelled all over the world, helping other people open restaurants. When he decided to make us a priority, we opened a restaurant in our town. It was nothing fancy, just a small place. It enabled him to be with us, yet still do the work he enjoyed.”
“Had I known your husband was a talented chef, I would have endeavored to make the stew more appetizing for you,” Benjamin said, feigning embarrassment.
Through the Mist: Restoration Page 13