Dear God in Heaven, Hugo suddenly thought, could she doing this because of the child? Was Jane’s desire for Clarence to inherit the title and estate at the root of this madness? Hugo couldn’t begin to guess at Jane’s motives, but he knew that if he were to see her right now, he’d tear her limb from limb, and even that wouldn’t do anything to tame the pain in his heart and the overwhelming fear tearing at his soul.
Hugo shook with terror and helplessness as silent sobs tore from his body. This was all his fault. Neve had begged him not to go back, but he had to do the honorable thing for Max instead of putting the welfare of his family first. Now his beautiful Neve was in prison: alone, terrified, and without hope. She would die thinking that he had forsaken her and their baby; die a horrible, brutal death brought on by his own arrogance and Jane’s malice. He’d turn himself over to the authorities in a heartbeat if that would save Neve, but right now he was her only hope, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to help her, nothing at all.
The only thing that could get Neve out of Newgate was a pardon from the king, and Hugo was the last person, under the circumstances, who could petition James II for such a favor. He’d done everything he could to protect James’s monarchy and make sure that a Catholic king remained on the throne, but no one, save a trusted few, knew of his motives nor could prove that he was a loyal subject of the Crown. Hugo had been branded a traitor, his name synonymous with treason and betrayal. He could no more petition the king for a royal pardon than he could stop the events that would overtake James in just three years and turn him from a king into a fugitive — a sovereign without a country.
Hugo sank to his knees and keeled over onto the floor, lying in a fetal position in the darkness, unable to control the searing pain that was tearing through him every time he thought of what Neve must be going through. He remained that way all night, unable to close his eyes, staring at nothing, and feeling more than his mind or body could handle. He winced with pain as the morning sun pierced the darkness of his soul. A new day had come, a day without Neve, a day without hope. A day in which he’d have to force himself to function when all he wanted to do was die.
Chapter 8
“I wish I were a witch,” Liza said with feeling as she blew out the candle and climbed onto her narrow cot. She laid her head on the lumpy pillow and pulled the blanket all the way up to her chin; since the room was in the cellar and the cold seeped through the stone walls and left her chilled to the bone. Liza couldn’t even imagine how cold it’d get in the winter, but hoped that she might find a better position by then.
She could hear sounds of laughter and the creaking of beds from the floor above, but her job was done for the day and she’d earned a few hours of rest. She’d been on her feet since early morning, clearing away the dirty cups and plates, scrubbing the floor of the salon where the girls entertained the gentlemen before taking them upstairs, and washing numerous shifts, stockings, and rags that the girls used to clean themselves after their clients finally departed. The rags were the worst, but Liza closed her mind to the unpleasantness and did her job, terrified that if she showed any disgust she’d be out on her ear.
She’d been working at the brothel for nearly two months now and there wasn’t a day that she didn’t seethe with anger, mostly at herself, for allowing herself to be taken in by pretty words and empty promises. Everly Manor might not have been the Promised Land, but it was a fine house, and she’d had a dignified and decently paid position. Finding new employment without a recommendation from her past employer proved more difficult than she anticipated, and many a door slammed in her face, leaving her to seek employment somewhere where the qualifications were less exacting.
Jane Hiddleston had been filled with glee as she dismissed Liza for lewd conduct and bid her to leave the house immediately. At that point, Liza still harbored some hope that Captain Norrington would take care of her as he so ardently promised when she visited him in his room at the inn, but since following him to London, she’d learned what his promises were worth. He’d barely acknowledged her when she found him at the barracks where he was quartered — had turned his back on her and their child. He’d given her a few coins to send her on her way, without so much as a word of regret or apology, only the cruel announcement that he had a wife and children in Yorkshire.
She should have known better, but hope had gotten the best of her. Liza didn’t much fancy being the wife of a soldier, but the thought of having a home of her own, a family, and a man who’d care for her more than made up for Norrington’s unfortunate occupation. She’d fallen in love with him, truth be told, and allowed herself to trust the man since he’d proven himself to be gallant and kind.
Liza supposed it was easy to be kind when he saw her once a week, and did nothing more than buy her a tankard of ale and a hot pie before taking her upstairs for an hour of pleasure. Now she was all alone, pregnant, and destitute, and the only thing she had were her wishes. Well, if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, her mam used to say, and how right she had been.
“Ye’d best be careful, saying things like that,” Liza’s roommate, Mavis said as she eyed her in the darkness. “Women have been burned for less. Why’d ye want to be a witch anyhow?” she asked, her eyes round with curiosity. “I’d heard girls wishing they were fine ladies or wealthy gentlemen’s mistresses, but I’d never heard anyone wishing to be a witch afore.”
“I wish I could be a witch so that I could get revenge on those who’ve wronged me,” Liza explained patiently. Mavis was a good woman, the soul of kindness, but no one would ever accuse her of being overly bright. She used to be one of the girls who worked upstairs, but at nearly forty, she was too old, blowsy, and used-up to even have for free, much less pay for by the type of men who frequented the establishment. Mavis didn’t seem to mind, applying herself to cooking, cleaning, and looking after the girls.
“And who do ye wish to take revenge on, me girl?” Mavis asked as she shifted her considerable bulk on the cot. “That fine lord of yours? Did ye think he’d marry ye and make ye his lady?” Mavis chuckled. “Come now, Liza, even ye are not that dim. He was kind to ye; that’s more than any woman of yer station could ask for.”
“Oh yes, he was kind to me until he threw me over for some rootless whore who just showed up on his doorstep. She was no better than she should be, yet I could tell he wanted to marry her, wanted her to be the mother of his children. And that sister of his, that dried up old stick. She’d not seen a stiff cock in a decade at least, I’ll wager. She could have used one, and that’s a fact. Would have made her a kinder person,” Liza ranted as she warmed up to her tirade. “Had me thrown out without so much as paying me what was owed. Just tossed me out like the contents of a chamber pot.”
Mavis chuckled in the darkness. “And how do ye know when was the last time she’d seen a stiff cock? I saw one just yesterday, too bad it weren’t stiff for me. Would have made me a kinder person, I can tell ye.” Mavis let out a bawdy laugh which made Liza giggle. She really was a good sort.
“But most of all,” Liza said as she stopped laughing, “I’d like to get back at that bastard captain who got me with child. Said he loved me. Said he’d take me to London and marry me. Too bad he forgot to mention that was married already. If I were a witch, I’d cast a spell on him that’d make him so sick he’d wish he were dead, and I’d get rid of this baby I’m carrying.”
“Ye don’t need to be a witch to do that, do ye now?” Mavis asked reasonably. “I haven’t been a whore for more than half me life not to know how to get rid of an unwanted babe. I can help ye, if that’s what ye wish.”
“Goes against God, doesn’t it?” replied Liza fearfully. She’d considered asking the girls for help, but wasn’t sure if she was ready to kill her unborn child. She was about three months gone; if she were going to do it, it had to be done soon, but she still harbored reservations. She knew that many women got rid of unwanted babies, but the notion of what was involved and the possibility of
going to Hell had been enough to deter Liza thus far.
Perhaps, somewhere deep inside, she still hoped that Norrington would come to her and promise to take care of them, even if he couldn’t marry her outright. She liked children, had always hoped to have some, and could almost imagine the baby she would have, warm and sweet in her arms, its eyes closed in sleep. Of course, it wasn’t a fully formed child yet, but it was a life growing inside her, a life created in, what she believed, was love. What a fool she had been to be taken in so easily.
“Lying to a woman and making false promises goes against God too, but ye don’t see the Almighty smiting down men in the street, for we’d have very few of them left, and where would we be then, I ask ye?”
“You’ve got a point there, Mavis,” Liza said as she curled into a fetal position and brought her knees against her belly for greater warmth. “Will it hurt very badly if I do it?”
“Of course it’ll hurt, ye stupid girl. Feels good going in, hurts something awful coming out, whether ye miscarry or give birth to it.” Mavis looked serious now, her round face pale as the moon across the small room. “I’d done it a few times,” she said quietly, her face crumpling with sadness. “Oh, the pain goes away soon enough, but the emptiness remains, like a great, big hole in yer heart. I didn’t even know who sired me babes, ‘twas too hard to tell with all the men I’d serviced, but it still felt like a loss. Mayhap, I’d been happier had I had a child, but I would’ve lost my place, me source of income, and I was scared.”
“How did you do it? Did you seek out a wisewoman?” Liza asked. She might not make her decision today, but she wanted to know what to do just in case.
“No, I did it on me own. Ye stew some herbs of pennyroyal with a bit of blue cohosh and drink it. There’s some as add some baker’s yeast to it for greater effectiveness. I’d never done it and it still worked a treat. But never use the essence of the plant, just the herbs. Brings the pains on and forces the babe out of yer womb. I can make it for ye if ye like. Ye shouldn’t be alone when ye do it.”
“Because I might die?” Liza asked, her belly contracting with fear.
“Because it’s good to have someone with ye at a time like that, someone who can offer ye a bit of comfort in yer hour of need.”
“Thank you, Mavis. I really do appreciate your kindness,” Liza said, meaning it. Mavis was one of the kindest, nicest women she’d ever met. She hadn’t had an easy life, but she felt no bitterness, no anger. She just took things one day at a time, and never looked to the future, unlike Liza, who was always thinking ahead. “If I have this child I’ll never be able to get out of this place. I’ll end up old and dried up, with no chance in life.”
“Like me, ye mean?” Mavis asked without any heat. “Ye’re right. Ye’re a young woman still; ye deserve a chance at happiness. A child will only make yer life more difficult. Come now, my girl, let go of the past. It’ll do ye no good at all to keep it. Just keep yer eyes open for an opportunity. The world is full of them if ye are clever enough to seize them. One might come along when ye least expect it.”
“Like it did for you?” Liza asked spitefully, and instantly felt remorse. Mavis did not deserve her ire.
“Aye, like it did for me. I could have been out on the street, freezing and starving after me good years were over, but Madame offered me a place and I took it. I have a roof over me head, a bed, and enough to eat. And as long as those girls need looking after, I’ll have a place.”
“So, you’re happy then, are you?” Liza asked, considering what Mavis said.
“Aye, I am happy. I know me place, and so should ye.”
“Perhaps you’re right, Mavis, but my place is not here. I want to work in a fine house again, and if I do marry, I want a man who loves me and will cherish me and our children. I don’t want a man who only wants a warm body to stick his cock into. I want a fair chance in life, and by God, I shall have it. Let’s do it next week when I have my half-day off.”
“Ye just say the word and I’ll help ye. Now, stop yammering and get to sleep. I’m tired.”
Chapter 9
I woke up with a start as a wooden bowl containing something gray was shoved through the door. A cup of warm, sour ale accompanied this meal, but I drank it greedily and forced myself to eat the gruel. I had to keep up my strength if I was to survive in this place. And I had to survive. Sooner or later someone would come for me, take me to trial where I could prove my innocence. I had to. I refused to contemplate the notion that I might be condemned.
The only person who’d ever implied I was a witch had been Jane when she’d seen Hugo’s physical transformation, but she was Hugo’s sister, my future sister-in-law; surely she’d never testify against me. Who else could be called to bear witness against me? Lionel Finch? I’d insulted him, called him names, and helped abduct his wife, but I had done nothing that could be construed as witchcraft, nothing at all. But, Finch wasn’t a man of integrity; he could denounce me out of pure spite, to punish me for the part I’d played in rescuing Frances, and his testimony would carry plenty of weight.
And, of course, there was Captain Humphries who could attest to the fact that I contrived for Hugo to bring me to the church from where we both vanished. Yes, I suppose that could be seen as magic, and in a sense it was. I still had no idea how the passage worked or if the wormhole in time opened only in that spot and was only between this year and the future, but Captain Humphries had not seen us enter the passage. For all he knew, we could have simply found some other way out of the church and ran for our lives, escaping into the woods and duping him and his men. Neither Captain Humphries nor his men had seen anything out of the ordinary with their own eyes, so how could they testify against me?
But, someone had made an accusation of witchcraft, and someone had issued a warrant for my arrest. I was now known to the authorities, and I would be persecuted. The thought terrified me. This wasn’t some hypothetical threat; I’d been arrested, snatched off the street in broad daylight, and incarcerated without so much as a chance to talk to anyone. I didn’t know much about the prison system of the seventeenth century, but I knew that many prisons simply housed prisoners without keeping them locked up in individual cells. Prisoners could have their own belongings, buy food and wine, and have visitors. I wasn’t sure if this only applied to debtor’s prisons, but the fact that I was locked up in a cell and not offered a chance to buy anything meant that whatever my crime, it was considered to be very serious.
I wrapped my skirts around my ankles to keep the rats away from them and sat against the damp wall. The stench wasn’t as strong anymore since I’d become accustomed to it during the night. My eyes were swollen from crying; my throat raw from screaming, and my hands shook with fear, but I tried to come up with a way to calm myself. I’d thought of doing yoga, but I couldn’t bring myself to stand up, so I came up with the next-best thing. I began singing softly to myself, first a lullaby, then a pop song I’d heard on the radio not so very long ago. I was able to keep this up for about an hour, but then I ran out of songs and needed to come up with something else.
I began to recite my favorite poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley.
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of Heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle -
Why not I with thine?
See the mountains kiss high Heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea –
What are all these kissings worth
If thou kiss not me?
Hugo loved that poem when I read it to him, and asked me to read it again and again. He said it reminded him of us. We were two
people from different centuries who were never destined to meet or love, but we’d collided with each other, and produced something otherworldly. I was the moonbeam that kissed the impenetrable depths of his sea. Thoughts of Hugo undid my hard-won calm, and I started crying again, whimpering this time like an injured puppy. He would be going mad with worry, tortured by his inability to do anything to help me. Perhaps Gideon Warburton could be called upon to do something for me, but that’s only if Hugo and Brad knew where I was and why.
I suddenly realized that it was entirely possible that Hugo had no idea where I was. Jane had seen me get arrested, but she couldn’t know where I’d been taken. Even if she got to Hugo and told him what had happened, Hugo might have no idea where to look for me, and he was in no position to search for me through any legal channels. I hoped he wouldn’t do anything foolish and endanger himself further. I wrapped my arms tightly around my legs and rested my head on my knees. I had never been so frightened in all my life, and I knew that my ordeal was just beginning.
Time crawled by. Another bowl of gruel was given to me hours later with the same cup of sour ale, and still no one came. I fell asleep with my head in my hands, and my ankles crossed and wrapped in my filthy skirts for protection. Had it really only been one day?
Chapter 10
Hugo forced himself to get up off the floor and splash some water on his face. His shirt was filthy and smelled strongly of sweat and fear, so he pulled it over his head, threw it in the corner and rummaged for a clean shirt, donning it as he gazed around the room, his heart clenching at the sight of Neve’s hairbrush and shift carelessly tossed over a chair. Doing common, everyday things felt absurd, but he needed to get a hold of himself and the best way to do that would be by walking. Hugo let himself out of the room and walked toward the river.
Wonderland (Wonderland Series: Book 2) Page 6