And then there was Avery. Petra had kept his return to Dunwich a secret from her mother. Avery had unintentionally ruined her life once, and he had the power to do so again, but the thought of seeing him made Petra smile foolishly. Her hands shook with nervousness as she smoothed down the fabric of her skirt as she stared into the dying flames of the fire, but seeing only Avery’s face. He was the only man she’d ever loved, and the only man who’d ever been kind and loving to her in return. He would have married her had his father not sent him away, and he would have cherished her and their son. Perhaps Edwin would have turned out all right had Avery been there to raise him, rather than Cyril who frightened the child with his booming voice and quick temper. Avery would never have raised a hand to either of them, of that she was sure. He might not have desired to take the holy orders, but he did have a predisposition for the priesthood. He was kind and sympathetic, and eager to help when he could. But Avery was as far out of her reach as he ever was, Petra reminded herself as she tore her gaze away from the hearth. He was Father Avery now, a Roman Catholic priest.
Petra smothered the fire and bid her mother a good night before climbing up to her frigid loft and undressing for bed. She would not reject Thomas outright, she decided as she unpinned her hair, nor would she encourage him as her mother suggested. She would simply go about her daily business and see where that took her. She lay awake for some time, worrying about the future, but when she finally drifted off to sleep, it was Avery, not Thomas, who was in her thoughts.
Chapter 17
January 2014
Edinburgh, Scotland
“There are four missed calls from Rhys on your mobile. He just left a message on mine to inform me of that fact and to demand that you get back to him as soon as possible,” Gabe announced when Quinn came out of the shower. He was still lounging in bed, seeing as it was too early to call on the Lennoxes and collect Emma for her playdate at the nursery school. Gabe tossed Quinn her mobile and she stared at the call register. All the calls were from the previous evening.
“Oh, no,” Quinn moaned. “I had a meeting scheduled at the BBC last night. I completely forgot, what with everything that happened. Rhys won’t be pleased with me.”
“Better ring him back then and apologize for your unforgivable truancy,” Gabe joked as he folded his arms behind his head. Quinn threw a decorative pillow at his head and dialed Rhys.
“We had a meeting,” Rhys barked as soon as he answered the phone. “I waited for over an hour. And your mobile was off.”
“I’m sorry, Rhys. I should have called, but something urgent has come up. I’m in Edinburgh.”
There was a loaded silence on the other end while Rhys absorbed that bit of information. “You don’t waste any time, do you?” he said, sounding unusually angry.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Robert Chatham. How did you even know he was in Scotland?”
“I didn’t,” Quinn replied. “That isn’t why I’m here.”
“There’s no need to lie to me, Quinn. I won’t try to dissuade you from talking to him; it’s not my place. I just wish you’d honor your commitments before running off to Scotland to pursue your own agenda.”
“I said I was sorry. It won’t happen again,” Quinn replied with genuine contrition. She took her work responsibilities very seriously, and although the meeting wasn’t to discuss anything urgent, but rather more of a progress report, she still should have remembered to reschedule it, or at least give Rhys a heads-up that she wouldn’t be attending. Quinn had a sneaking suspicion that Rhys was a lot more annoyed about her trip to Scotland than her absence last night.
“Why’s Chatham in Edinburgh? And how do you know about it?” Quinn asked.
“He’s at a business conference for the entire weekend. I saw it on his Facebook page. I looked him up, like you asked me to.”
“Where’s the conference being held?” Quinn asked, suddenly unable to breathe.
“As if you don’t know,” Rhys retorted. “It’s at the Radisson Blu Hotel.” Quinn scribbled the name on a notepad by the phone, doing her best to avoid meeting Gabe’s accusing stare.
“Look, Rhys, I’m here on a personal matter that has nothing to do with Robert Chatham. I’ll be back in London in about a week; we can reschedule our meeting then. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go.”
Quinn rang off before Rhys could berate her any further and sank down on the bed, a faraway expression on her face. As a student of history, she didn’t really believe in coincidences, especially not two at the same time. Not only was Robert Chatham in Edinburgh at this very moment, but now she’d been informed of his whereabouts thanks to forgetting about her meeting with Rhys. Fate was handing her a unique opportunity, one she might not get ever again.
“Do I want to know?” Gabe asked, not having heard Rhys’s end of the conversation, but having deduced enough on his own.
“Robert Chatham is here in Edinburgh for a conference.”
Gabe sighed with frustration. “Quinn, I know how much it means to you to find out who your father is, but are you sure you really want to know? Will you be able to establish a relationship with a man who forced himself on your mother? You’ve been punishing Rhys ever since you learned about that night. Instead of finding peace, you’ve found anger and a thirst for vengeance. Would it not be better to just abandon this quest?” Gabe asked gently. “You have a loving father, who raised you and supported you. He’s still there, darling, and he will walk you proudly down the aisle when we get married because he deserves that honor.”
“Gabe, you are right in everything you say, and cold, hard logic is on your side, but this is not a cerebral decision. This is purely emotional. I need to know. I need to put a face to the man who fathered me, and I need to find out if he has psychic ability, as I do. I want to know where this gift comes from.”
Quinn grabbed her mobile, looked up the number for Radisson Blu Hotel, and dialed before she could change her mind. “Yes, hello. I’m with Chatham Electronics. I seem to have misplaced my itinerary for the conference this weekend. Would you be kind enough to email it to me?”
Quinn rattled off her email address and thanked the helpful person on the other end. She checked her email and nodded with grim satisfaction. “There’s a cocktail reception this evening. I hope you can spare me for an hour, Gabe.”
“Quinn, don’t do this,” Gabe pleaded. “Not today of all days.”
“I must.”
“And what exactly are you going to do? Approach this man and yank out a tuft of his hair? It’s not as if you’ll be able to tell if he’s your father just by looking at him.”
“Don’t you worry; I will get a viable DNA sample. How hard can it be?”
“I don’t know. How hard is it to obtain someone’s hair, nail clippings, or a glob of saliva?” Gabe retorted. He meant the remark to be sarcastic, but Quinn could hear the bitterness in his voice. He was upset, mostly because Quinn was doing this at a time when he needed her most, but she wouldn’t be swayed by guilt. An hour was all she was asking for. Surely that wasn’t unreasonable.
“Am I expected to come with you to this event?” Gabe asked. He no longer sounded annoyed, just resigned. Despite his protests, Quinn knew that he understood, and would support her no matter the outcome.
“No, I prefer to go alone, but thank you for asking.”
“Okay, do it your way. I’m going to take a shower. We are picking up Emma in an hour.”
Gabe disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Quinn a few moments of solitude to formulate her plan, but her mind was still on Gabe’s argument. Quinn could understand his point of view. She probably would have told him the same thing had the shoe been on the other foot, but she needed to know. The desire to find out who her parents were had been a driving force since she was eight. She didn’t expect to establish a relationship with the man who raped her mother, nor did she plan to denounce him to the police after all these years. Sylvia ha
d moved on and had no wish to reexamine the past, but Quinn simply wanted to look into the eyes of the man whose blood flowed through her veins. She needed to know that the man wasn’t a monster, and had some redeeming qualities despite doing something despicable thirty years ago. She could have other siblings out there, although she wasn’t at all sure she cared to meet them. She had yet to meet Logan and Jude, a prospect that left her nervous and excited at the same time.
Quinn glanced at her traveling case. She hadn’t brought anything smart enough to wear to a cocktail reception. She’d have to pop out to the shops and pick up a dress and a pair of shoes, but she’d mention that to Gabe later. He was nervous enough about spending time with Emma, and it was time for her to get ready.
Quinn selected a pair of leggings and an oversized Shetland wool sweater, glad she’d brought something really warm. The day was sunny, but the temperature had plummeted during the night, and the wind had picked up, moving silently through the trees outside the window. Quinn ran a brush through her hair and applied a little makeup while Gabe dried his hair and got dressed. There was a tightness around his eyes and mouth that suggested that he was a lot more nervous than he was letting on. Quinn put on an appearance of calm, but she was anxious as well. Without Mrs. Lennox as a buffer, they would be on their own with Emma for the first time, and the prospect was daunting. What did one do with a child to fill the hours? Emma would visit the school for two hours, but then they’d have to entertain her for the rest of the day.
Quinn sighed and did what any modern-day woman would do. She went online and entered the search: “Things to do with children in Edinburgh.” Several results popped up on the screen, listing every possible form of entertainment, including parks, museums, cinemas, and the Edinburgh Zoo. Armed with the information, Quinn felt somewhat less worried.
“Ready?”
Gabe nodded as he reached for his coat. “Yes. I’m sorry, Quinn,” he said, returning to their previous conversation. “I have no right to judge. I’d probably do the same if I were in your situation. Let me know if you need me to do anything. I can be the Clyde to your Bonnie.”
“Thank you, but I’m not planning on shooting the place up. I just want to talk to the man.” Quinn replied. Gabe’s support meant the world to her, and to know that he understood made what she intended to do slightly less shady.
Chapter 18
February 1347
Dunwich, Suffolk
Petra woke well before dawn, her mind instantly alert. She was as jittery as a bride on her wedding day. Today was the day she was going to see Avery. The thought left her feeling nervous and excited at the same time. He was a priest now, a man of God, but she couldn’t help the feelings she’d harbored for him all these years. Perhaps he’d forgotten all about her and embraced his new life, but he didn’t have her child to remind him day in and day out of the love they shared when they were young. Did he remember her? Did he ever think of her? Had she been his only experience of physical love? Avery had gone directly to the seminary after leaving Dunwich, so it was entirely likely that she had been the only woman he’d ever lain with.
Petra hastily dressed, climbed down the ladder, and set about lighting a fire in the hearth, so that the house would warm up a little before her mother and the children woke up. There was no need for them to suffer the cold, especially Maude, whose joints ached and swelled during the winter months, slowing her down and making her moan with agony by the end of the day. Maude had painful chilblains on her hands and feet as well. In more prosperous times, Petra rubbed them with lavender oil, but Maude refused to spend their few precious coins on a medicine for herself. “I’ll be all right, girl,” she said time and time again. “A bit of lard works just as well.” It didn’t, but Maude would brook no argument.
Petra’s hands shook with cold as she tried to get the fire going, but the kindling refused to catch, no matter how many times she struck the tinder and flint. At last, a tiny tongue of flame appeared and began to grow, devouring the dry sticks and giving off some measure of warmth. Petra added two logs once the fire had taken hold, set some water for washing to heat, and sat down in front of the hearth, holding out her hands and feet to the glowing flames. She had a few minutes before the children awoke, and she planned to enjoy them in front of the fire. As she stared into the leaping flames, her thoughts instantly returned to Avery.
Did priests forsake their physical needs without any difficulty? She imagined not. Petra had known only her husband since Avery left, but she had several female friends who spoke frankly of such matters when they were alone, and they all shared a similar experience to that of Petra. Their husbands exercised their rights regularly, never tiring of the act or caring if the woman beneath them enjoyed it. It was a hunger that needed to be fed, day after day, year after year. Did that hunger fade in men of the cloth or did it die down for a time, only to reawaken when they least expected it?
She had no desire to stir feelings of love in Avery. She only wanted to talk to him, to know that he was well, and perhaps to tell him about Edwin. Would it cause him torment to know that he’d fathered a child? Would he wish to see his son? Petra had no way of knowing. The man who returned to Dunwich was a stranger to her.
Petra reluctantly left her spot by the hearth and turned her attention to making breakfast. The children were stirring, and she could hear Maude coughing behind the curtain of her alcove. At least she wouldn’t have to wash with cold water, which would aggravate her chilblains. Petra sliced some leftover bread and spread it thickly with fat before setting the slices close to the fire. By the time they were ready to eat, the bread would be hot, with melted fat soaked into the stale dough to make it more palatable.
Edwin was the first to rise, as usual. He pulled on his breeches and hose as he hopped from one foot to the other on the freezing dirt floor, before stuffing his feet into shoes and donning his jerkin.
“Do you need me to fetch some water, Mother?” he asked.
“There’s enough for now. Come and have a wash. I warmed it up.”
Edwin smiled gratefully as he washed his hands and face and took a seat at the table, accepting a slice of warm bread and a cup of ale. Petra ruffled his hair affectionately and went to rouse the girls, who tried to remain abed for as long as possible. Petra suddenly smiled to herself, realizing something that had eluded her until now. Edwin had not suffered a single fit since Cyril died. Was it possible that his fits were brought on by fear of his father? If so, he was cured. Petra felt a moment of pure joy when she imagined that that her son might no longer be afflicted. She would monitor him carefully, and if there were no more fits, she’d see to finding him a suitable apprenticeship, perhaps with the help of Lady Blythe.
Petra was in a state of nervous anticipation as she hurried toward Lady Blythe’s house. She didn’t expect to see Thomas, since he mentioned that he’d be going out with Robert first thing in the morning, and she was glad of it. She was still reeling from their last conversation and needed a bit of time to adjust her thinking to this new, if unlikely, possibility. Thomas and Robert were off to inspect a new location for a wool-picking shed, and wouldn’t be back until much later in the afternoon, since the property was some distance from the town. The wool-picking shed they’d been using for the past decade was no longer big enough to accommodate all the wool Thomas was buying, so they needed to expand and hire more wool-pickers as well.
Petra hated to even think about putting the girls to work, but if her income wasn’t enough to sustain them, she might have to ask Thomas to take on Ora and Elia as wool-pickers come spring. It was tedious, dirty work, but it was something the girls could easily do. Their earnings would help significantly and maybe they’d have enough left over to put something by for next winter. And, if she could hold off on finding Edwin an apprenticeship for a year, he could work as a pack-whacker for a spell. He was too young to go out on his own, but there were at least two men to every pack of donkeys, and although pack-whacking didn’t pay much,
there were hidden benefits, according to Robert. Pack-whackers usually followed the same route, so got to know the people along the way and were frequently asked to do small favors which were handsomely repaid in food and other goods. A chunk of cheese, a length of cloth, or a bag of flour went a long way to helping a family cope. Petra smiled as she pulled her cloak tighter about her and bent her head into the wind. She felt more hopeful this morning than she had in months. It was a heady feeling, and one she wasn’t accustomed to. She finally reached Lady Blythe’s house and knocked on the door, which was locked. When Nan opened the door, her face looked like curdled milk.
“What’s amiss, Nan?” Petra asked as she removed her cloak and hung it on a peg by the door.
“Her ladyship is unwell. She was up all night with a bilious attack. Not a moment’s rest did she allow me, that old…” Nan wisely refrained from finishing that remark, but Petra was fairly sure she was about to say ‘besom’, a term remarkably fitting, in Petra’s opinion.
“And Lord Thomas?”
“Slept like the dead, thank the Lord for small mercies. At least I didn’t have him ordering me about. I know how to look after his mother, been doing it long enough,” Nan replied with an eloquent scowl. She’d been in Lady Blythe’s service since she was ten, and knew her employer like no one else. Nan looked pale, with dark smudges beneath her eyes — a testament to her sleepless night.
“Why don’t you go lie down for a bit, Nan? I’ll look after Lady Blythe.”
“Thank you, Petra. I owe you. I’m so weary, I can barely see straight.”
The Forgotten (Echoes from the Past Book 2) Page 9