Chapter 9
The drive to Edinburgh was a tense one. Gabe decided to drive rather than take the train or fly for the simple reason that he needed a little time to come to terms with the situation and thought it would be the easiest way to bring Emma home. He was vibrating with nervous excitement as he drove, a faraway look in his eyes as he imagined meeting his little girl for the first time. Quinn, on the other hand, was feeling somewhat more pragmatic as she compiled a mental to-do list.
“Gabe, have you given any thought to the practicalities?” Quinn asked carefully, knowing that Gabe hadn’t focused on anything beyond meeting Emma.
“Hmm? Like what?” Gabe asked, giving Quinn a perplexed look.
“Asked the man who never had to take care of a child,” Quinn joked. She had no desire to make Gabe feel foolish or unprepared. He was too overcome with shock and excitement to give practical matters too much thought, and that’s where she came in. “Well, for starters, where will she sleep? Neither one of us has a spare bedroom. Emma will need a room of her own.”
Gabe looked so startled by the question that Quinn nearly burst out laughing. He really had no clue what he was in for. “And what about childcare? We’ll need to find a reputable nursery school, won’t we?”
“Surely that can wait,” Gabe protested.
“For a little while, sure, but someone will have to look after her while we work. And there’re other things.”
“Such as?” Gabe asked, looking utterly bemused.
“When is her birthday? What does she like to eat? What’s her favorite toy? What TV programs does she enjoy watching? Does she have a best friend?” Quinn looked over at Gabe and smiled at him ruefully as she reached out to take his hand. “Oh, don’t look so panicked, love. We’ll figure it all out.”
“Will we?”
“Of course. Where is Emma now? Who is looking after her, and do they know we are coming?” Quinn asked carefully. Gabe had been too much in shock at the news to ask too many pertinent questions.
“Emma is staying with the Lennoxes. They were Jenna’s friends. Mr. Lennox, who is Jenna’s lawyer, thought that it would be an easier transition for Emma, staying with someone she knew rather than being turned over to the state until the situation was resolved.”
Quinn nodded and reached for Gabe’s mobile, which he’d plonked into a cup holder. At least now she had a starting point.
“What are you doing?” Gabe asked as Quinn scrolled through the contacts.
“You just drive, Dr. Russell, and leave the rest to me.” Quinn pulled out a notepad and a pen and dialed the lawyer’s office. After a brief conversation, she then dialed Mrs. Lennox’s number. Gabe watched in amazement as Quinn filled page after page with notes, nodding to herself as the other woman spoke, and putting forth questions he would have never have thought to ask.
“And lastly, who’s Emma’s pediatrician?” Quinn asked, earning a look of respect from Gabe. When she finally rang off, he squeezed her hand.
“That was bloody brilliant, Quinn. I’m in awe. But why did you ask about the pediatrician? Won’t Emma’s new doctor have access to her records through the NHS database?”
“I would assume so, but we might need to consult someone who knows her. Emma just lost the two people closest to her. She’s frightened, sad, and confused. We might need help dealing with her grief, and her doctor might be able to recommend a therapist who specializes in working with young children.”
“Do you really think it’ll be as bad as that?” Gabe asked, looking even more worried than he had a few minutes before. The excitement was wearing off and anxiety setting in, which, under the circumstances, was perfectly normal.
Gabe had clearly never considered the fact that Emma would be grieving, or that she might be terrified at the prospect of being taken away from everything she’d known up until a fortnight ago.
“Two people she’s never even heard of are coming to take her away. She might come along willingly, or she might put up a fight, and who could blame her?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Gabe admitted. “I assumed she’d be happy to meet her dad.”
“She’s a little girl, Gabe, not a grown woman. You are a stranger to her, and she is to you. It will take time.”
“I wish I’d thought to ask Mr. Lennox for Emma’s picture. I keep trying to imagine what she looks like, but draw a blank,” Gabe confessed. “I keep picturing Jenna instead, but her features are hazy in my mind after all this time. The only thing I truly remember is her hair. It was long, thick, and flaming-red. She was quite proud of it, I think,” he added, as a look of sadness passed over his face. “I can’t believe she died, and in such a sudden and brutal way.”
Quinn smiled gently at Gabe. “Pull over for a moment, love.”
“Why? There’s nothing here.”
“Because I’m one step ahead of you, and I don’t want you to crash into a tree.”
Gabe obediently pulled over and turned in his seat, his expression one of tense anticipation. He held out his hand and Quinn passed him the mobile. Gabe sucked in his breath as he beheld his daughter for the first time. An expression of pure wonder lit up his face, and Quinn’s vision blurred with unshed tears. She’d hoped that the first time Gabe beheld his child would be when their own child was born, but she couldn’t begrudge him this. For Gabe, this was a wondrous moment, and her heart nearly burst with tenderness for him.
“I don’t think you’ll be requesting a paternity test,” she said, her voice shaky. “She’s the spitting image of you.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Gabe replied as he used the back of his hand to wipe his damp cheeks.
Chapter 10
January 1346
Dunwich, Suffolk
The children huddled closer to the fire, desperate for its meager warmth. A gale-strength wind was blowing off the sea, leaving the small house barely above freezing. Some of the rich merchants in town had glazed windows, but most houses in Dunwich had nothing besides wooden shutters to stand in the way of the cold, and the draught that was strong enough to nearly put out the fire in the grate. Petra ladled out some broth and handed around slices of bread. The children looked disappointed, but that was all she could manage. She couldn’t afford to buy meat, but she had managed to negotiate a fair price for some marrow bones, which she’d boiled for hours with an onion to get the most flavor from them. The money from the sale of the tools was about to run out, and it was time to consider something more drastic.
“I’m still hungry,” Ora complained. “I want some more.” Petra tore off a piece of bread from her own slice and handed it to her daughter, who reached for it eagerly.
“Here, take mine,” Edwin cut in. “Eat, Mama. You’ve grown thin,” he said, his eyes full of concern.
“I’m well, Edwin,” Petra replied. “I’m really not that hungry.”
Ora accepted the bread from Edwin while Elia held out a hand for her mother’s share. Everyone had lost weight, not just Petra, since one could hardly grow stout on broth and water-based gruel. Their diet would grow a bit more varied once the warm weather arrived and there would be apples, peas, and root vegetables to supplement their meals, but the winter months were always lean, even when there was enough to buy food.
“I could go with Alfric and set some snares,” Edwin offered. Alfric was his only friend, a boy several years younger and two heads taller, who’d taken on the role of man of the house since the death of his father. Edwin doted on Alfric, and Alfric, in turn, tried to teach Edwin everything he knew. Alfric was mature for his years, and surprisingly enterprising for a boy of ten. He set snares in the woods outside of Dunwich and brought fat rabbits and squirrels for his mother’s pot. Alfric sold the fur to merchants of his acquaintance, who paid him less than the going rate because he couldn’t sell the fur openly.
“I forbid you to set snares,” Petra replied, her tone firm. “That’s poaching, and if you get caught, you’ll be severely punished. I won’t have it. It’s not worth the risk.”<
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“But Mother, no one minds if you catch a few squirrels or badgers. Alfric says that lowly creatures are not subject to Forest Law, since the nobles wouldn’t stoop to eating their meat. He was caught once, last Michaelmas, but was released immediately, having only been apprehended with two squirrels on him. There was no harm done, and his family ate well for a whole week.”
Petra didn’t think Edwin would get caught, not if he went with Alfric, who knew every track and hollow in the woods, but the strain might bring on an attack, and Alfric, still being a child despite his maturity, might tell someone. It was too much of a risk, although a bit of meat certainly wouldn’t hurt any of them, nor would the extra money from the sale of the skins.
Edwin looked sullen, but didn’t argue, taking his mother’s word as law. Instead, he used the crust of his bread to wipe his bowl, soaking up every last drop of broth before setting the empty bowl aside. Petra could understand his frustration. At nearly twelve, he was at an age when decisions about his future needed to be made. He was frightened and unsure of what the future held, and Petra’s heart went out to him. She had an idea, but would have to give it some more thought before voicing it to anyone. She didn’t think Maude would approve, but Petra could make her see the benefits of the arrangement if it came to pass.
“What am I to do, Mother?” Petra asked the older woman as they sat by the hearth after the children had gone to bed. “We have enough food for a few more days, a week at most, if we halve our portions.”
“Go see Lady Blythe,” Maude said, pinning her daughter with her pale-blue gaze. Maude had been a beauty once, but a life of hardship and loss left her looking haggard and older than her forty-six years. Maude had buried two husbands and three children, all of them sons who might have looked after her in her old age. Petra was the only family she had left, and Maude felt Petra’s suffering keenly. She wished only to help, but the mention of Lady Blythe caused Petra to square her shoulders and glare at her mother with defiance.
“Mother, I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. You’ve no other choice. Go beg an audience tomorrow. She’ll see you. Now, off to bed with you.”
Petra climbed into bed and shivered as she curled into a ball. The excitement of sleeping alone had worn off quickly, leaving her wishing that she had a husband to take care of her and keep her warm. Cyril had been a tyrant, but he’d been a good provider and a hard worker who took pride in his labors. Now she was alone, with no one to help her or offer advice. Her mother was right, of course, as always. This was no time for false pride. She had a family to support, and at the rate they were going, they wouldn’t last till spring.
Petra barely slept a wink that night. The prospect of having any future dealings with Lady Blythe left her feeling anxious and unsettled; old memories and fears came back to haunt her. Petra had been placed in Lady Blythe’s household when she was eleven, having outlived her usefulness at home. Her father died when she was four, leaving Maude in no better position than Petra found herself in now. An opportunity to remarry presented itself quite soon after the period of mourning was over, and Maude seized it with both hands, thankful to have someone who was willing to look after her and her daughter. The man Maude married was a grain merchant, who was well-respected and admired in the community. Alfred Cummings had been recently widowed and needed a mother for his two young sons. His daughter, who was fourteen at the time, was already betrothed, and would be married on her sixteenth birthday. Diana took an interest in Petra, never having had a sister, but their budding relationship was cut short by Diana’s marriage. Her husband’s family had a fine house on the other side of Dunwich, so Diana rarely visited, especially once she gave birth to her first son.
The marriage was happy at first, Alfred and Maude savoring a period of marital unity and affection. Maude enjoyed being a mother to Alfred’s sons, finding the boys to be both respectful and pliable. Within five years, Maude was blessed with three sons of her own, making her happiness complete, especially since Alfred glowed with pride at having five healthy sons. Life might have been very different had Maude and Alfred’s children survived infancy. The boys died in quick succession, leaving Maude, who’d always been lively and optimistic, broken and sad. By that time, Alfred’s boys were already out of the house, having been apprenticed to a blacksmith and a carpenter, and the house became ominously silent and tainted with misery.
After a time, Alfred’s grief turned to anger, which he began to take out on his helpless wife, whom he blamed for the death of his children. It was at that time that his attention turned to his fair-haired, blue-eyed stepdaughter. Petra was on the verge of womanhood, her body blossoming and her allure increasing by the day, a fact that she was completely unaware of. Maude, having noticed the way Alfred looked at her daughter, wasted no time in securing a place for her in Lady Blythe’s household, claiming that it was time Petra learned something of the real world and a woman’s place in it. Alfred did not object. He was honest enough to admit to himself that having Petra under his roof posed a danger to his immortal soul.
Lady Blythe Devon was a wealthy widow, and a force to be reckoned with. She had taken over her husband’s business interests upon his death and vowed to make the family the most successful wool merchants in Suffolk. They had been well-to-do already, but Lord Malcolm had a weakness for gambling, losing much of his profit at dice before it even made it into the coffers. Lady Blythe would tolerate no such set-backs in the future. She ruled with an iron fist, using her sons to do her bidding. Thomas was the elder, and the more practical of the two. Rather than try to fight his mother for control, he allowed her to take the reins and quietly went along with Lady Blythe’s plan, part of which was that he marry the daughter of a competitor and consolidate their operation. The girl was no beauty, and didn’t have much to recommend her in terms of character, but Thomas did his duty, and their holdings doubled practically overnight.
Thomas spent much time in Lincolnshire and Wales, negotiating the purchase of fleeces and sending sacks of wool back to Dunwich with a team of trusted pack-whackers, who drove the ponies home. The wool was then picked over by pickers, who divested it of any bits of dung, leaves, and vermin, then prepared it for shipment to customers, many of whom were overseas in the Low Countries, making the proximity to the port a valuable asset.
While Thomas was away, Lady Blythe spent her time wooing buyers and securing sales, engaging the services of her youngest, Robert, for those merchants who had no wish to deal with a woman. Robert was only seventeen at the time, but he was wily and smart, qualities that his mother put to good use.
Petra had seen little of Thomas while she was in Lady Blythe’s employ, but she had gotten to know Robert a little, since he was still unmarried and living with his mother. Beneath the charming exterior, Robert chafed at his situation and often complained to Petra bitterly about his mother, a habit that earned Petra more than a few stripes across her back from her employer, who was aware of Robert’s friendship with the girl. Robert had no wish to spend his life handling greasy fleeces and making deals with fat, greedy merchants. He’d begged his father to secure him a place as a page in some noble house when he was a boy, which would have been a stepping stone to becoming a squire. Robert liked the idea of becoming a knight and performing in tourneys during spells of peace, but most of all, he dreamed of distinguishing himself on the battlefield, earning the respect of his peers and possibly even getting the notice of the king.
Lord Malcolm had been in favor of the plan, but Lady Blythe overrode her husband and squashed Robert’s dreams by reminding her husband that he was a drunkard and a fool, so it wouldn’t be too long before his sons had to take over his business, and it would take both of them to make it prosperous and secure for future generations. Lord Malcolm didn’t bother to argue, seeing the truth in his wife’s argument. He might have liked his ale and a few hours of gambling, but he knew good sense when he heard it, and so forbade Robert to mention the subject ever again.
It wasn’t long after Petra came into Lady Blythe’s employ that Robert was married off as well. He refused several proposed brides, but finally settled on a sweet, comely girl, who came to live at Lady Blythe’s house along with Thomas’s wife, Mildred. Lady Blythe terrorized the young wives and her servants, and brooked no opposition or backtalk of any kind. She was known for her extreme piety and saw sin behind every bush. Lady Blythe believed that to spare the rod was an affront to God and used it often and with great effect. Not a week went by that Petra didn’t earn a beating for a cup of spilled ale or food that wasn’t hot enough when it reached the table. Petra bore it all, knowing that she had no place else to go. By that time, she’d understood her mother’s reasons for sending her away, and visited only on her afternoons off, which were once a fortnight.
Alfred abandoned Maude when Petra was fifteen, proclaiming his wife to be a dried-up, old crone. He’d taken a mistress who was young enough to be his daughter. The girl’s father had been handsomely paid for his blessing and sizable donations to the church coffers kept the priests from condemning the immoral relationship. Alfred retained his position of respect in the community, deserting his wife and step-daughter without any repercussions. The one honorable thing he did before leaving was to designate a sum for Petra’s dowry, which he left with Maude.
Lady Blythe released Petra from service after Alfred left, mindful of a girl’s duty to her mother, but Petra never forgot her cruelty or lack of compassion. The idea of having to endure her self-righteous claptrap for even a moment left Petra burning with indignation, but short of going begging to her step-father, who was still alive and quite well off, Lady Blythe was her last resort.
Chapter 11
Petra owned two gowns: a serviceable faded brown wool that she wore day-to-day, and a dark-blue gown of lighter wool dyed with woad. Petra wore the blue gown only to church and on feast days, and kept it wrapped in linen and folded neatly in the trunk when not using it. She chose the brown, since it was somber and shabby, and better suited to begging. She braided her hair and pinned it up before donning her barbet. Lady Blythe would notice every detail of her appearance, and she wished to look as docile and impoverished as possible. Petra glanced with longing at her fur-lined cloak, but decided to take Maude’s instead, which was made of plain, dark-gray wool. The fur-lined cloak was a relic of more prosperous times, and she had no wish to show Lady Blythe that she owned anything so fine, even though Lady Blythe would not consider vair to be anything more than rodent fur, suitable only for the wife of a journeyman. Petra said goodbye to the children and set off toward the center of town, her demeanor no more cheerful than someone walking to their execution.
The Forgotten (Echoes from the Past Book 2) Page 5