The Lovers (Echoes From The Past)

by Irina Shapiro

  Their summer romance turned into eight years, but now, looking back, Quinn wasn’t sure how much of their relationship had been love and how much was comfort and convenience. They both had busy schedules and were often away on digs and at conferences. They came together at her little chapel, spent a few weeks or months together, and then parted again. She’d been content, but had she really been happy? She’d always taken it for granted that Luke was faithful to her, but had he been? Had he always gone to bed alone when he was away from her? She supposed she’d been blind to his faults, but the veil had lifted, and now she was finally beginning to see clearly.

  She still believed that Luke loved her in his own way and had been devoted to her at one time. But Luke had only one great love—himself—and he’d discarded her as soon as something better for him came along. He could have asked her to come with him, but he hadn’t. He wanted a fresh start, and he wished to be unencumbered and free to pursue new relationships. Well, he had it, but so did she. Like it or not, this was a fresh start.

  Chapter 18

  February 1665

  London, England

  Elise sat up in bed and hugged her knees. It was still dark outside, but dawn would come soon and with it, a new day. She’d barely slept all night, thoughts of Gavin crowding her mind. She’d been elated and hopeful after their conversation, but once she finally got back to the house and snuck up to her room without being seen by anyone but Lucy, the doubts had set in. A part of her had no regrets about seeing Gavin or making him a promise, but there were other factors to consider. There were still nearly six weeks till their departure, and with James visiting her several times a week, she could still get with child. There had to be a way to prevent that catastrophe from happening, but how? She supposed there were ways, but she was completely ignorant of them and had no one to ask. Decent women didn’t try to prevent pregnancy. Conception was God’s will and a part of God’s plan.

  And then there was the matter of her marriage. She was Edward’s wife in the eyes of God and man, despite the fact that Edward wasn’t her husband in every sense of the word. Running out would brand her an adulteress and a whore. She would never be able to marry Gavin, and their children would be born out of wedlock, a predicament that weighed on her heavily. They could lie to their neighbors, but they couldn’t lie to God. How could she walk into a church with Gavin by her side, knowing all the while that she was another man’s wife?

  Had she still been a maid, an annulment might have been possible, but no physician would believe her now. She had no proof; it had been destroyed by James on her wedding night. And then there was her father. Elise had to admit that she felt hurt and betrayed by the father she loved, but running away would bring out Edward’s thirst for vengeance. He’d threatened to ruin her father, and he would. Could she put her own happiness ahead of everything she held dear, and would it be possible to be happy despite the factors working against her and Gavin?

  Elise rested her chin on her knees and peered into the darkness. The thought of remaining in her present situation for years to come felt like a sentence worse than death. There wasn’t a glimmer of hope if she stayed. Her only escape would be widowhood, and although she despised Edward for his duplicity, she’d never wish him dead. So, she was back where she began: lonely, desperately unhappy, and utterly trapped. She wished she had someone to talk to, someone she could trust, but there was no one. Except Lucy. Lucy was a chatty girl who’d lived in and around Blackfriars her whole life. Perhaps she can be of assistance without realizing it, Elise thought. She had to deal with one problem at a time, and for the moment, her biggest concern was possible pregnancy.

  Elise got out of bed, poked up the fire, and threw open the curtains. A rosy light was spreading along the horizon, the tree line black against the lightening sky. It was a new day and a new beginning, and she’d be damned if she allowed her circumstances to break her spirit. She was stronger than that, and she would find a way out of her predicament.

  Elise was already sitting at her dressing table when Lucy came in, bringing a pitcher of hot water for washing.

  “Well, good morning, me lady,” Lucy greeted her cheerfully. “Ye’re up afore me again. Ye put me to shame.” She pouted.

  “I’ve always been an early riser. You get up early enough, and you need your rest.”

  Elise washed while Lucy put a few more logs on the fire and lit a brace of candles with a taper since the room was still in darkness.

  “Shall ye wear your blue gown today?” Lucy asked as she opened the trunk. “It does go well with yer coloring.” She sighed wistfully. “Yer hair is like liquid copper, it is.”

  “Yes, the blue gown. It looks like a beautiful day. Perhaps we can go out for a walk along the river today, Lucy.”

  “Aye, me lady. A walk would be most welcome.”

  “Lucy, I wonder if you might know of an apothecary nearby,” Elise asked innocently as she sat down in front of the dressing table, ready for her hair to be dressed.

  “Are ye ill, me lady?”

  “No, but I thought perhaps I can ask about a remedy for Lady Matilda. She has such a terrible, wheezing cough.”

  “But Lord Asher had the physician in only yesterday. He gave her a tonic for her cough and advised a cupful of cow’s blood mixed with milk twice a day to build up her strength.”

  “I see,” Elise replied, thwarted. “I pray she feels better.”

  Lucy kept silent, which made Elise smile. Lady Matilda scolded and belittled the servants, and Lucy was always a ready target, being young and pretty. Her good nature particularly irritated the old woman, who tried to browbeat her into silent submission.

  “I suppose there’s an apothecary at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital. The monks are very knowledgeable about herbs and such,” Lucy said as she twisted Elise’s hair into a knot at the nape of her neck. “Of course, his lordship had invited the court physician to attend on his mother. No monks for her ladyship,” Lucy added bitterly.

  Elise considered this information. St. Bartholomew’s was out of the question. The monks were renowned for their healing and kindness to those less fortunate, but they couldn’t help her with her problem. Perhaps what she needed was a midwife. But how could she go about finding one? A physician would be summoned if she were with child, but by that time, it would be too late.

  Elise allowed Lucy to dress her and went down to break her fast. Perhaps a solution would present itself. She just had to be patient. Elise was surprised to find her husband seated at the table with a plate of food in front of him. He rarely rose before noon, and this morning he looked pale and out of sorts.

  “Ah, here comes my lady,” he intoned sarcastically. “You are looking radiant, my dear. Dare I hope?”

  “I’m sorry to dash your hopes, sir,” Elise mumbled.

  “Are you indeed? You are proving to be a great disappointment to me, Elise. We’ve been married for nearly two months, and still you fail to get with child,” he hissed, his eyes suddenly angry.

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” Elise replied. “It isn’t for lack of trying. You apply yourself most diligently to begetting an heir.”

  She knew she shouldn’t have said that, but a hot fury rose up within her. How could he blame her for not being pregnant, especially when his bastard rode her every other day as if she were a broodmare?

  “Perhaps you’re barren,” Edward spat out, rising from the table with such anger that his chair clattered to the floor. “I shall summon the physician to have you examined. I assumed when I married you that you would prove as fertile as your mother, but perhaps my assumption was incorrect.”

  With that, he strode from the room, leaving his food untouched. Elise sank into a chair, but her appetite had deserted her. What would he do to her if the physician found her incapable of bearing children? Perhaps he’d seek an annulment himself, but was it possible to get one on the basis of infertility? If that were the case, half the royal marriages would get annulled. And what would that mean for h
er and her family? Of course, Edward’s displeasure with her would be a moot point if she ran off with Gavin.

  Elise sighed and reached for a jug of ale and took a sip of the cool, sour liquid. She couldn’t go on like this. She needed to make a decision. She was going round in circles, but there were only two possible solutions. She could please her family and Edward by remaining exactly where she was and producing a male heir, or she could follow her own desires and leave with Gavin. Each choice came with its own set of consequences, but she had to decide if duty was more important than hope.

  Elise sat there until she heard the wheels of Edward’s carriage rattling past the window, then pushed her chair away from the table, having decided to forgo breakfast. Instead, she went back to her chamber, where Lucy was busy making the bed.

  “Lucy, leave off,” Elise said softly. “I feel unwell. I think I might lie down for a spell.”

  “Is there anything I can get ye, me lady?”

  “No. I just need to sleep. Please, make sure I’m not disturbed. Perhaps you can use the time to wash some of my undergarments,” Elise suggested slyly.

  “Aye, of course, me lady.”

  Lucy quickly collected Elise’s chemise, several pairs of stockings, and a shift, and left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Elise stretched out on the bed and waited. The garments didn’t really require washing just yet, but Lucy was an inquisitive girl, and it was best to have her out of the way for a little while.

  Once Elise was sure that Lucy wasn’t coming back, she put on her drabbest gown, pulled on a linen coif to hide her elaborate hairstyle, and put on an old, worn pair of boots that she’d meant to throw out. She peeked into the corridor to make sure that all was quiet before skipping down the stairs and slipping from the house unseen.

  The day was overcast, with a gauzy mist shrouding the buildings in a blanket of moisture. It wasn’t very cold, but a raw damp seeped into her bones as Elise got closer to the river, and her face was wet to the touch as mist settled on her skin. She picked her way carefully, avoiding piles of refuse and pools of mud. She turned off on Black Friars Lane and then made another turn onto Carter Lane, where she made her way slowly down the street. It wasn’t long until she spotted what she was searching for. A heavily pregnant woman was walking carefully down the street, an empty basket swinging over her arm as she set off to do her daily marketing.

  “Do excuse me,” Elise called out to the woman. “Me mistress sent me to fetch the midwife, but I seem to have lost me way. Would ye be able to direct me?” If anyone knew where the midwife was to be found, it was a woman near her time, Elise reasoned, and she wasn’t disappointed.

  “I surely can, pet. Old Nan lives just round yon corner in Creed Lane. Third house on the left. Ye can’t miss it. There’s a birch tree as grows right in front.”

  “Thank ye, mistress,” Elise said with a smile.

  “Glad to help,” the woman replied and got on her way, waddling down the street at a glacial pace.

  Elise followed the directions and was in front of the house in mere minutes. The birch was still bare, its slender trunk silvery in the morning mist. It was the only tree in the street, the old Tudor houses standing so close together that they practically leaned on each other for support. The upper floors overhung the lower ones, blocking out daylight and casting the street into a gloomy pall. The lack of sunlight prevented anything green from thriving, so the birch tree was a surprise. Elise took a deep breath before knocking softly on the door. She hoped Old Nan was in. A woman in her thirties opened the door, a smile of welcome on her face.

  “I’m looking for the midwife,” Elise said.

  “You’ve found me, then. Have someone’s pains started?” she asked as she reached for her cloak.

  “No, I’m here for a somewhat different reason.”

  “You’d best come in, then.”

  The woman stepped aside and invited Elise into the house. A single candle burned on the table, casting a glow onto the walls. The room was sparsely furnished, but it was clean and warm. Old Nan herself looked clean and warm as well. There was a kindness in her eyes, and she was motherly in her manner, which put Elise at ease.

  “Here, have a cup of broth,” Nan said. “’Tis bone raw out there today.”

  Elise accepted the cup of broth gratefully and took the proffered seat. The broth was rich and hot, and she took a few warming sips before setting the cup down and raising her eyes to meet Nan’s.

  “What can I do for you?” the older woman carefully asked.

  “You see,” Elise began but faltered. She wasn’t sure exactly how to ask what she wanted to know.

  “You wish to know if you’re with child.”

  “No. I wish to know if there’s a way to prevent getting with one,” Elise blurted out.

  “Are you married?” Old Nan asked.

  Elise felt a momentary panic. She didn’t want to lie, but if she told the woman she was wed, the midwife might think it a sin against God to try to prevent conception.

  “No, not yet,” Elise fibbed.

  “I see.”

  Elise cringed inwardly. She just proclaimed herself to be a fornicator, probably a worse sin than not wanting to get with child. “I’m not . . . w-well, that is,” Elise stuttered.

  “It don’t matter to me, love. ’Tis not my place to judge. I’ve seen it all by now, and let me tell ye, it isn’t always pretty or proper. There are some decoctions that women swear by, but I myself don’t believe them to be effective. Sooner or later, they all fall pregnant anyhow.”

  “Is there nothing?”

  “There is something ye can do. It works for some, but nothing is guaranteed, save keeping your legs crossed. Find some thick cloth and cut it into small bits, ’bout this size,” she said, holding her thumb and pointer about two inches apart. “Dip a piece in vinegar before yer man comes to ye and insert it as deep as ye can into yer quim.”

  “How would that prevent me getting with child?” Elise asked, curious.

  “The thick fabric blocks the seed from spilling into yer womb, and the vinegar kills its potency. It don’t always work, mind, but ’tis better than nothing. Just make sure to remove the cloth after ye’ve used it or it’ll begin to fester inside ye.”

  “Are there ways to get rid of a babe should the need arise?” she asked carefully.

  “There are, but I’m not one who’ll tell ye about them. ’Tis a sin against God to do away with a child. I’m a midwife; my calling is to bring new life into the world, not snuff it out.” She didn’t sound angry, but Elise could see that Nan felt strongly and didn’t persist.

  Elise took a coin out of the pocket of her cloak and laid it on the table. “I thank you for your advice.”

  Old Nan inclined her head and pocketed the coin. “God be with ye,” she said as she let Elise out into the street.

  “And you.”

  Chapter 19

  November 2013

  London, England

  Quinn looked around as she was ushered into Rhys Morgan’s office. She’d expected it to be more posh, for some reason, but the room, although well-proportioned and with an excellent view, was a bit Spartan and almost completely devoid of color. One wall was painted a muted shade of blue and displayed several photographs and award certificates, but the rest of the office was done up in dove gray and chrome. Rhys was wearing a charcoal-gray jumper, black jeans, and a pair of beat-up leather boots. He looked trendy and comfortable as he tapped away on his keyboard. He glanced up as Quinn walked in, closed the laptop, and smiled in greeting.

  “Dr. Allenby, do come in. Deborah, an espresso for our guest, please, and one for me as well,” Rhys called to the departing assistant. “Please, make yourself comfortable. First and foremost, I’d like to apologize for the way I behaved the last time we met. I tend to get a little dogged when it comes to a new project, but I am very happy that you’ve accepted our offer of headlining the program. Deborah will provide you with a copy of the contract and all th
e other necessary paperwork.”

  “No apology necessary,” Quinn replied, although she felt a little wary of his good mood. “It was only natural that you should wish to know more about my methods before offering me the job.”

  “Truth be told, I never considered anyone else. You were my first choice, especially after Gabriel Russell’s glowing recommendation. He will act as a consultant on the program. I trust you don’t object.”

  “Of course not. Gabriel has been my mentor since I was a student. I welcome his input.”

  “Excellent. I won’t rush you to complete your investigation, but I would like to hear all about your progress to date.” He leaned back in his chair, his face suffused with ill-concealed expectation.

  “So, no pressure, then?” Quinn chuckled as she pulled a file out of the briefcase.

  “None.”

  Quinn accepted an espresso from Deborah, who looked less than pleased to be treated like a waitress, and went on to fill in Rhys on the findings of Dr. Scott before moving on to her own conclusions. “Based on the fibers and bits of leather found with the skeletons as well as the style of buckles and jewelry, I would say that our victims lived in mid-to late-seventeenth century. I can’t say for certain what the man’s position might have been, but the woman was definitely not a servant. She wore a gown made of fine fabric, which was ornamented by this lovely brooch.” Quinn passed Rhys a picture of the brooch. She hadn’t brought the original with her for fear of having an unwelcome flashback if she had to handle it in front of him. All the samples recovered from the chest were securely stored at her office at the institute, except for the brooch and belt buckle, which Gabe had entrusted to her.

  “There was also an earring found. It was consistent with something a lady of means would wear.” Quinn slid a picture of the earring across the desk.

  Rhys studied the pictures with interest before turning back to Quinn. “Do we have any theories as to who she might have been?”