Bifel that in that season on a day,
In Southwerk at the Tabard as I lay
Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage
To Caunterbury with ful devout corage,
At nyght was come into that hostelrye
Wel nyne and twenty in a compaignye
Of sondry folk, by aventure yfalle
In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle,
That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde;
The chambres and the stables weren wyde,
And well we weren esed atte beste.
She felt as if she were making a pilgrimage but of an entirely different kind. Elise looked at the buildings, which leaned against each other like drunken men. There were countless narrow alleys that seemed to lead nowhere in particular, and only people who resided in them had a reason to enter. She finally found the house she’d been looking for and knocked loudly on the door, turning her head from side to side, as if she were going to be pounced on by her father or her husband at any moment. Elise’s heart thumped in her chest.
“Oh, please be there,” she whispered. “You have to be there.”
She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard footsteps and the door swung open.
“Good Lord. Elise. Come in.”
Elise slipped inside the house, glad to be away from the prying eyes of the city. She pushed back her hood and surveyed the humble dwelling. It was small but tidy, with one narrow window that didn’t allow in nearly enough light. The room was dim, lit by a single candle whose flame flickered in the draft created by the opening and closing of the door.
Elise and Gavin stood facing each other for a moment before Elise walked into his arms and buried her head in his chest. She hadn’t meant to cry or give in to self-pity, but seeing Gavin’s smiling face was her undoing. He held her close as she cried, stroking her hair and murmuring words of comfort.
“You came,” he whispered. “You really came. I’d nearly given up all hope of ever seeing you again. I started to believe that you were content in your marriage and had forgotten all about me.”
“I thought of you every moment of the day,” Elise confided. “I longed for you, and I wondered how you were.”
“Come. Sit down. Let me get you some warm broth. You look frozen through.”
“It was cold out on the river,” Elise replied as she took a seat at the scarred wooden table. She gratefully accepted a cup of broth and wrapped her hands around the warm metal.
“Are you still planning to sail for the colonies?” Elise asked as she took a sip of broth. It wasn’t very flavorful and lacked salt, but it was warm and dispelled some of the chill that had seeped into her bones.
“I am,” Gavin replied. “I sail on April second.”
Gavin studied her carefully, his eyes searching her face for answers. She’d come to him, so it was up to her to state her intentions.
“Gavin, does your offer still stand?”
“It does.”
“Would you not mind living in sin with a woman who’s married to another?”
“I don’t put much stock in sin,” Gavin replied with a smile. “Love between two people should never be a sin, even if it isn’t sanctioned by the Church.”
“So, how would we manage it?” Elise asked, hope swelling in her chest. Could she really pull this off, and was it still possible to salvage something of her life? She knew this was wrong, but something inside her refused to care. She would pay whatever price she had to to escape her joyless existence and snatch even the smallest bit of happiness for herself. She’d taken the first step; the second one would be easier.
“We would pose as man and wife. It would probably be wise to change your name, so no one would suspect anything. Elizabeth, or Elspeth, perhaps. Once in Virginia, no one would have any reason to question our union.”
“But our children would be born out of wedlock,” Elise said, suddenly realizing that she wouldn’t be the only affected by this decision.
“So, they would. But as long as no one knows . . .”
“God would know.”
“Yes, I suppose he would, but I don’t think he much cares,” Gavin replied. He’d always held some unorthodox views on religion, which Elise found scandalous, but at this moment, she was glad. He wouldn’t reject her because she was already married and had lain with another man. Gavin knew it had never been by choice and wouldn’t punish her for it. He was kind and understanding, and her life with him would be vastly different.
“Elise, I don’t have much in the way of possessions. I have enough to pay for our passage and find us lodging once we get to Jamestown, but I cannot promise you a life of luxury. You must be prepared to work hard and make do, at least for the first few years.”
“I don’t need much, just a serviceable gown, a pair of shoes, and a cloak to keep me warm. Everything else will come in time.”
“We’ll build a life together, from the foundation up. We’ll be happy, Elise. You’ll see.”
Gavin got to his feet and came around the table. He held out a hand to Elise and she took it gladly, tilting her face up to meet his. This kiss was sweeter than any kiss they’d stolen before; this kiss was a promise of things to come, of a life built on love and trust.
Elise gazed up at Gavin as they pulled apart, her mind made up. She took his hand and pulled him toward the bed located in an alcove and separated from the rest of the room by curtains.
“Elise,” Gavin breathed as she reached for the laces of her bodice. “We can’t. Not yet. I’ve a job at the Tabard Inn. I’ve undertaken to sort through their accounts. I need the money to pay for my lodgings until I leave so that I don’t have to dip into my savings,” Gavin explained apologetically. “I start at nine.”
Elise nodded as disappointment tore through her. She wished to give herself to Gavin as a sign of her commitment. They would be as good as married then, even if that weren’t so in the eyes of the law.
“You must go back. Pretend like nothing’s changed,” Gavin said as he reached for his coat. “If you come to me too soon, they’ll find you. The ship is due to sail on the morning tide on April second. Come to me on April first. We’ll be long gone before anyone suspects that you’d run away. Bring only what you most need.”
“I will,” Elise promised.
“I love you, Elise,” Gavin said as he gave her hand a final squeeze. “Be careful getting back. You go first, and then I will follow in a few minutes. No one must see us together.”
Elise couldn’t imagine that someone would recognize her in this part of Southwark, but she didn’t argue. Gavin was right: it was best not to take any chances.
“I will count the hours and the minutes until I see you again,” Elise said as she smiled up at Gavin. “I hadn’t realized how much I loved you until I lost you.”
“You’ll never lose me. I’m forever yours. Now go. I need to get to work.”
Elise hurried out of the alley, her head bent low. A happy smile played about her lips and her heart sang a joyful melody. There was hope after all. She wasn’t doomed to a life of loneliness and isolation with Edward Asher.
Chapter 14
James observed from a safe distance as Elise stepped out from the narrow house. She didn’t look back but hurried out of the alley and down the street, her head lowered and her hood obscuring her face from passersby. James watched her turn the corner but made no move to follow. He knew where she was heading but didn’t know whom she’d visited. He’d wait a few minutes and go knock on the door, pretending to be in search of someone. James was just about to carry out his plan when the door opened and a young man stepped into the alley. He appeared to be in his early twenties and had a pleasing countenance, his best feature being his eyes. Although his clothes were not as fine or fashionable as those of a gentleman, he clearly took pride in his appearance and tried to look the part of a well-to-do man. His step was unhurried, and once he reached the corner, James peeled himself away from the wall he’d been leaning against and follo
wed the man. He didn’t go far, only as far as the Tabard Inn, where he turned into the courtyard and eventually disappeared through a door.
James decided not to bother waiting and walked briskly toward the river. He spotted Elise in a boat that was still not too far from shore, her shoulders stiff, and her eyes fixed on the London side. Her hands were folded in her lap, but James could see the tension coursing through her body. He stepped into a boat and took a seat, his eyes never leaving Elise. The morning was clear, and Elise would easily recognize him if she glanced in his direction, so James pulled his hat lower over his eyes and huddled into his cloak. He could be any of a number of men crossing the Thames for business or pleasure.
Elise jumped out of the boat as soon as it docked, paid the ferryman, and hurried in the direction of Asher Hall. It made no sense to follow her, so James walked to a nearby tavern, found a table in the corner, and ordered a slice of pork pie and a tankard of ale. He hadn’t had any breakfast, thanks to Elise, and since it was nearly time for the midday meal, he was ravenous. The pie wasn’t half-bad, the crust flaky and hot and the filling flavorful and moist. James took a long pull of ale and leaned back in his chair, gazing out the grimy window at the river flowing past. The water sparkled in the morning sunshine, and the docks were a beehive of activity with men loading and unloading goods and going to and from the warehouses situated along the docks.
Edward had charged James with keeping an eye on Elise, but until today there had been no cause to follow her. Elise rarely left the house, and when she did, it was in the company of Lucy. They attended services at St. Martin-in-the-Fields and occasionally took a walk along the river bank on fine days. Elise met no one and had received no visitors since the day of the wedding, not even her father. James found that to be odd, but then he supposed that the notion of devoted and loving parents was something he dreamed about since childhood, not realizing that even those children who had living parents weren’t always cherished or even cared for.
James signaled the barmaid for another slice of pie and returned to his troubled thoughts. He could tell Lord Asher that Elise had snuck out and gone to Southwark to meet a man, but did he wish to betray her? She had been inside the house no longer than a quarter of an hour and came out looking just as tidy and neat as when she’d gone in. Had anything of a lewd nature taken place between her and the man, she’d have emerged looking at least a little disheveled and looking guilty or elated. Instead, she looked anxious, no doubt wondering what awaited her once she returned. James hoped that Lady Matilda was still abed and would not give Elise a tongue-lashing. The old stick’s only pleasure in life was to intimidate the servants, belittle Barbara, and chastise Elise. James hoped that on this occasion, she would be denied the pleasure since the servants would make no mention of Elise’s absence, even if they had noticed that their mistress wasn’t in the house, unless asked directly.
The truth was that no one particularly cared what Elise did. Edward wasn’t outwardly cruel to her, but he made no pretense of treating her as one would treat a wife. He did not invite her to accompany him to court, nor did he entertain at home and present Elise to his friends and their ladies. She was there for one purpose and one purpose only, and James felt a stab of guilt as he considered his own part in her lonely life.
James gulped down the rest of his ale, threw several coins on the table, and stepped outside. Ordinarily, he would have gone back to Asher Hall, but the day was fine, and he felt too wound up to attend to his usual tasks. He strolled along until he came upon a small shop that sold candied fruits and marzipan and bought half a dozen of each before continuing on to Blackfriars.
Mercy opened the door, her elfin face lighting up when she saw him. “Hullo, Uncle James,” she sang as she danced around him.
“Hullo, yourself.”
“Mam went out to buy some fish. I’m ’ere alone with the baby. ’E’s sleeping,” she added.
“All right. I’ll wait, then. Would you like a sweet?”
Mercy’s eyes grew round with excitement. “Yes, please.”
James took two pieces out of the paper cone given to him by the seller and handed them to Mercy. She couldn’t be trusted with all the sweets, the little imp, and he had to save some for Molly and Elizabeth. Peter didn’t like sweets and would likely give his portion to the girls anyhow.
“Wipe your face afore your mam gets back,” James chided with a smile. Mercy’s lips and chin were covered with sugar and her hands were sticky.
Mercy used the back of her hand to wipe her face. “There, all clean.”
James was about to chide Mercy for being slovenly but bit back the criticism when he heard the thin mewling of the baby. Harry sounded more like a kitten than a child, and James’s heart turned over for his sister. He’d heard the girls’ lusty cries when they were hungry. They howled with rage and would not be denied, but this little mite just fussed. James turned to tell Mercy to get her brother, but she had disappeared outside. James left the bag of sweets on the table and went up to the sleeping quarters above. The baby was lying in his cot, eyes wide, mouth open in a soundless cry. He was pale and small and hardly weighed anything at all when James picked him up and held him close.
“How are you, little lad?” James asked softly as he rocked the baby. “Your mam will be back soon. Would you like to come downstairs with me?”
The baby just eyed him suspiciously, but James took that as a good sign. At least he wasn’t crying. James carefully made his way down the stairs, mindful of the baby in his arms. Where was Mercy anyway? He’d never been alone with a child and was at a loss. The swaddling was wet and smelled of urine, and the baby was squirming in his arms, either from discomfort or hunger.
James breathed a sigh of relief when Mercy finally came back through the door. She looked at the bag of sweets with longing but made no move to touch it.
“Where’ve you been, girl?” James asked, irritated.
“Had to go to the privy, didn’t I?” the girl replied with equal annoyance. “Give ’im ’ere. ’E needs ’is nappy changed.”
James gratefully surrendered the baby and watched as Mercy skillfully changed him. She’d make a good mother one day, if she didn’t dance herself into trouble. She was nothing like her sister Elizabeth, who was serious and diligent in everything she did. Mercy also wasn’t as plain. Elizabeth favored her father in looks, but Mercy, with her bouncing dark curls and dark-blue eyes, reminded James of a young Molly. She’d been a beauty and had known it. All the young men in the village hoped she’d show them a sign of favor, but Molly had chosen Peter and never looked at anyone else.
James rose to his feet as the door opened, and his sister near fell over the threshold. She was carrying a heavy sack of flour, and the basket slung over her arm was full of fish.
“Here, let me help,” James offered as he took the bag from Molly.
“Thank ye,” Molly breathed as she set the basket on the table. She looked reproachfully at the sweets. “Ye spoil us, James.”
“Can’t I bring my sister and her children a small treat? I’ve got no one else to spoil,” James replied, annoyed at being reproached.
“Well, maybe it’s time ye did,” Molly retorted, bringing up an old argument. She thought it was high time that James married and started a family of his own, but James, although not averse to the idea, had never met a girl he could see himself spending the rest of his days with.
“Mam, ’Arry is ’ungry,” Mercy piped in. “I just changed ’is nappy.”
“Right,” Molly exhaled as she reached for the baby. Harry latched on to his mother’s breast hungrily and James felt his heart turn over at the look of pure love in his sister’s eyes. If anything nurtured the little boy, it would be the affection of his mother.
“Eat up, little mite,” she told him as she settled herself by the hearth.
“Mercy, start the dough for the bread. Yer da will want ’is dinner soon, and I ’ave no bread to give ’im.”
Mercy made a fa
ce of discontent but didn’t argue and poured some flour right onto the table where she would knead the dough.
“What’s new at the manor?” Molly asked.
James shrugged. There was so much he wanted to tell Molly, but suddenly the words deserted him. He wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say about Elise.
“Ye daft fool,” Molly breathed as she studied his face with a look of abject pity. “Ye care for ’er, don’t ye?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” James retorted but heard the note of panic in his voice. Molly always saw right through him; he didn’t need to say a word.
“James, ye’ll come to no good if you go on this way,” Molly chided.
“I’m not a child, Moll,” James replied, suddenly feeling defensive. “I’m a grown man who knows his own mind.”
“Oh, really? Do ye? And what is in that mind of yers?” Molly demanded.
James was about to reply when Molly’s attention shifted to the baby. He could tell by her look of dismay that Harry had stopped nursing. He couldn’t have gotten much milk in the past few minutes, but his eyes were already closed and he looked tired and pale.
“Oh, ’ave mercy on us, Lord Jesus,” Molly breathed as she gazed at her son.
James opened his mouth to speak but suddenly wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know much about babies, but even he could tell that Harry was barely holding on to this life. Molly turned her face away toward the hearth, but James knew that she was hiding her tears.
“I’d better go,” James said awkwardly.
“Yes. Thank ye for the sweets. Elizabeth will be pleased.”
James closed the door softly behind him and walked away, his heart heavier than it had been when he arrived.
Chapter 15
November 2013
Surrey, England
Quinn lifted her arm out of the deliciously warm water in the tub and reached for her vibrating mobile. She wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone, having just spent time in the seventeenth century with Elise and James, but it was Gabe, and they hadn’t spoken since he’d visited her nearly a week ago.
The Lovers (Echoes From The Past) Page 11