I remembered the somber look on his face as we took a walking tour of the Tower of London, and went down to the torture chambers containing the Iron Maiden and the rack. For most people, those items were just a gruesome piece of history, but for Hugo they had been real — the devices used in his time to break the spirit and the body. I steered my mind away from those unsettling images and thought back to the night when he first told me he loved me. The memory made me feel happy, and I concentrated on that feeling as I drifted off to sleep, my mind and body needing a respite from the emotional roller-coaster of the past few days.
**
I woke up shortly before supper, my stomach growling with hunger and my limbs stiff with cold. I got up, splashed some water on my face, tucked my hair beneath the linen cap, and made my way outside. The temperature had plunged while I was asleep; the chill of the October evening reminding me that winter was just around the corner. I pulled my shawl closer about my shoulders and made my way to the dining hall. Sister Julia was coming out just as I reached the door. She was carrying an earthenware plate covered with a linen cloth and a cup of ale for Frances.
“Would you like me to take those?” I asked. I assumed that Sister Julia would want to eat with the rest of the order and listen to that night’s reading.
“You go eat,” Sister Julia replied. “I’m not very hungry today, so I will stay with Frances and give Sister Angela a chance to eat in peace. She’s more tired than she lets on.”
“I will come and relieve you once I’ve eaten,” I promised.
“Don’t rush. We’ll be just fine.” She hurried past me, and I went into the hall.
I took longer than expected at the dining hall since after the nearly silent meal, all the sisters wanted a progress report on mother and child. It was strange to see them so animated, although a few hung back, obviously uncomfortable with the topic. I gave a brief report in lieu of Sister Angela, who never showed up, before making my way back to the hut. The elderly nun had probably been too tired to come. Her face had been crisscrossed by lines of fatigue, and she needed to rest. I suspected that she was eager to return to her normal routine of prayer, work, and doling out of the occasional headache or stomachache remedies. Hopefully, Frances would be up and about by tomorrow and return to our cell with the baby, but, of course, things would hardly be normal. Frances would stay at Sacred Heart at the very least until spring or summer, but then decisions would need to be made.
I was just nearing the well when Sister Julia erupted from the hut, tears streaming down her face. She was wailing like a banshee as she ran past me toward either the dining hall or the chapel. I couldn’t imagine what might have caused such a reaction, but I was wary as I entered the hut. I was greeted by an ominous silence. Sister Angela stood with her back to me, gazing out into the shadowy darkness through the small window of her stillroom. Frances sat on her cot, holding the baby just as she had before, her shift wet with milk stains and her face rosy in the glow of the fire. She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes sent shivers down my spine. I couldn’t speak. I just stepped outside and wrapped my arms around myself, more for comfort than for warmth. Sister Angela came out after me and motioned for me to sit down on the bench.
“What happened?” I muttered, although I already knew.
“Sister Julia was holding the baby while I was busy with Frances,” the nun said. “She was singing to it softly, rocking it as it slept. All was peaceful,” she added, as if not comprehending how life could change so quickly. “It must have been a quarter of an hour later when she stopped singing abruptly. I didn’t pay her any mind, but Frances saw her face and started to cry.”
Sister Angela wiped her eyes with her sleeve as she stared up at the star-strewn sky, which seemed so vast above this tiny island of humanity hidden in the woods. “He just slipped away quietly, without any fuss. I didn’t think he would make it, but I was very hopeful.”
“Why did you not think he’d survive?” I asked, needing to understand what it was that she had seen.
“I’ve brought many babies into this world, and after a time, you just know. He didn’t cry; he was too weak to nurse, and there was a haze over his eyes, like a blind kitten. He just wasn’t ready for this world. At least he went peacefully, knowing he was loved.”
“Did he know that?” I asked through tears.
“Oh, I think so. That’s why I said that we must hold him at all times. I didn’t want him to die alone.”
I choked back sobs as Sister Angela patted my hand. “It’s probably for the best, but shame that Sister Julia had to be the one who was with him when he passed.”
“What does it matter?” I asked, feeling terribly angry with life, God, destiny, and whatever other celestial crap people usually blamed for tragedy.
“Sister Julia’s had enough heartbreak to last several lifetimes. This was one that could have been avoided.” I didn’t respond, so Sister Angela went on softly. “Julia and I come from the same village, you now. I’d known her since she was born; delivered her, in fact. Her mother was my friend. They were a happy family, the Hickses, and Archie was such a rascal,” she reminisced.
“What happened?” I couldn’t help asking.
“Julia married very young. Couldn’t wait. Her and Peter were so in love. She was a vision with her fiery hair and him so handsome with his dark good looks. I watched them exchange their vows, and thought that there was hope for mankind as long as there was such love in the world.” Sister Angela grew quiet, sniffling into her sleeve.
“Did he die?” I asked.
“They had six children in quick succession, five girls and a boy. Those girls doted on him. He had hair like a halo of sunshine while the girls all took after their father. They were poor but happy. It was five years ago now that some travelers passed through the village and stopped at the inn for supper. One had taken ill, so they asked for a room and stayed the night. The man was dead by morning, and the other two were fevered and had a sore throat. The pestilence spread like wildfire, and by the next day half the village was taken with the putrid throat. Julia’s case was mild, but the children got it bad. She watched them die one by one. The little boy went first and then the girls. The oldest held on the longest, but in the end she succumbed.”
I was crying hard now, unable to believe that such heart-wrenching misery was even possible. To lose six children in the space of a few days was more than any person could stand, much less a young mother.
“Peter was heartbroken; he hanged himself in the barn after the funeral. I think the only thing that prevented Julia from joining him was the fear that she wouldn’t see her babies in Heaven. She retreated from the world and just sat in her cottage, staring at the walls. Her parents came every day and forced her to eat and wash, but she barely acknowledged them. She was lost in her grief and unable to find a way back.” Sister Angela shook her head at the memory, as if trying to chase it away.
“I’d made up my mind by then to join the order. I was world-weary and ready to devote my life to Christ. It was a secret, but I thought that it might help Julia, so I went to see her. She just stared into the flames as I talked, but she must have heard me because she agreed to come. No one was to know where we’d gone since the location of the convent was to be preserved. I did tell her parents, however. They’d suffered enough heartbreak, losing six grandchildren and a son-in-law in one week; they couldn’t lose their daughter as well without knowing what had happened to her. So I brought her here with me in the hope that she might find some peace. It took her a long time, but she finally overcame the worst of the grief. To have that baby die in her arms is a terrible reminder,” Sister Angela said with a sigh. “Well, I’d better see to Frances.”
We found Frances in exactly the same position, holding the baby and rocking him as if he were asleep. She was humming softly, her finger stroking the little head. A faraway smile was on her lovely face, her eyes half-closed as she sang to her son.
“Let me have him, lam
b,” the nun said. Frances obediently handed the baby over, but suddenly looked up, her eyes opening wide in alarm.
“He’s hungry. I must feed him,” she said and began to pull down the shift, but I stayed her hand, my heart breaking at the look of incomprehension on her face.
“Frances, Gabriel has left us,” Sister Angela said softly.
“Where has he gone?” Frances whimpered, her eyes wide with incomprehension. She seemed to be in denial.
“He’s with God now, and with the angels.”
“He’s the Archangel,” Frances said, smiling through tears. “Why has he gone? Have I done something wrong?”
“No, ducky, you’ve done nothing wrong. The good Lord wants him by his side. He’s somewhat short of angels just now.”
The reality finally began to penetrate, making her shake uncontrollably as tears coursed down her cheeks. “Let me say goodbye to him properly,” she wailed. “I need to say goodbye.”
Sister Angela handed the baby back to her, and we watched with sorrow as Frances kissed the little face over and over and whispered words of love, before the sister finally held out her arms and Frances reluctantly surrendered her son for the last time. I opened my mouth to offer some words of comfort, but none came out. A harsh sob tore from me, and I fled the suffocating hut, running for my life and taking refuge in the herb garden where I wept until my throat was raw and my eyes so puffy I could barely see.
Chapter 35
I sat in the herb garden long after most of the sisters retired to their cells, and the chilly bite of the autumn evening began to seep through my gown and shawl. The garden was completely dark, but still I couldn’t move, couldn’t bring myself to go back to my cell. A gibbous moon hung in the sky, lighting up the thick clouds for brief moments in time as they passed over its bright face and moved on, disappearing into the inky darkness of the sky. Several candles burned in the chapel and cast a pool of light on the ground beneath the small window, but otherwise the compound was lost in shadow. The sisters either slept or prayed until it was time for Compline. News of Gabriel’s death had spread through the small community, and I suspected that most of the sisters were praying tonight rather than just resting after a long day.
I barely looked up as a tall shadow materialized above me, gentle hands taking my own and drawing me into an embrace. He was so solid and warm that I just melted into him, allowing the tears to come again as Hugo held me and whispered words of comfort. I didn’t even stop to question the fact that the nuns had allowed him inside the walls, but I supposed they all felt that on this day exceptions had to be made.
“How did it go with Jane?” I finally whispered. My voice was ragged and hoarse, and my question came out as barely more than a whisper, but Hugo heard me.
“Not well,” was all he said, but I felt him stiffen against me as he pulled me even closer, nearly crushing my bones. My belly was between us, the baby kicking in protest at the imposition and Hugo released me, putting his hand gently on the bulge. It was an innocent enough gesture, but I knew exactly what it meant when I gazed up at Hugo’s face. Our time was limited, and my growing belly was just a reminder of that. Max was still in the Tower awaiting trial; Jem was missing, and we only had a few weeks left to find a ship bound for France, or we would be marooned in England throughout the winter, a dangerous proposition to say the least, particularly if Jane was feeling as vengeful as Hugo’s demeanor suggested.
“Get your things,” Hugo said quietly. “We need to go.”
“But what about Frances? I can’t just leave her, especially not today.” I gazed up at Hugo whose face was silvery in the moonlight, his eyes hooded with fatigue. “Her baby died today,” I added, suddenly realizing that Hugo hadn’t even known Frances was pregnant, much less that she’d given birth or lost her child, but he didn’t seem surprised. Someone must have told him already.
“Hugo, she can’t stay here,” I cried vehemently. “There’s no future for her here. She must have some say in her life, don’t you see?”
“I do, but there’s no future for her anywhere as long as she’s still married to Lionel Finch. If he finds her, he’ll kill her.” Hugo looked deadly serious, and I felt a shiver down my spine. He was right, of course. Frances wasn’t safe outside the gates.
“But we must do something,” I persisted.
“Archie is with her now,” Hugo replied cryptically.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we need to go. I’ll explain later.” Hugo gently turned me around, slid his arm through mine and maneuvered me between the dark herb beds toward the dormitory. He couldn’t go in, but waited for me by the gate as I finally joined him, satchel in hand, but I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t just walk out on that poor girl who’d been through so much without an explanation or a farewell. I wished that I could stay for Gabriel’s funeral, but Hugo’s closed face told me that was not possible.
“I need to say goodbye to Frances,” I blurted out as I shoved the satchel into Hugo’s hands and ran toward the hut. Frances was awake, her beautiful blue eyes unseeing as she stared at something above my head, her face puffy from crying. Sister Angela discreetly stepped outside to give us a moment of privacy.
“Frances, I have to go, but we will see each other again; I know we will. And when we do, it will be under happier circumstances.” I pulled her close and enveloped her in a hug. After a time, her arms came around me and she buried her face in my neck, her tears wet on my skin.
“I know you must leave. I’m so grateful that you were here with me. We’ll see each other soon,” she murmured. “Archie promised to come for me. I will be waiting.” I wasn’t sure what she meant, but I just nodded and kissed her on both cheeks.
“Be strong, Frances. There will come a day when you will have choices.”
“But that day is not today,” she breathed, her eyes straying to the tiny bundle laid out on Sister Angela’s work table. “I would have loved him, you know, despite everything. God had no faith in me.”
“I have faith in you,” I said as I rose to leave. “Your story is only just beginning.” Frances gave me a weak smile as I walked out the door, wondering if I would ever see her again.
**
I was still enveloped in misery when Hugo escorted me up to our room at the top of the stairs in a tiny inn at the next village. There were only two rooms, and the other one was taken by a large family with several small children who squealed like a litter of pigs. Archie chose to bed down in the barn despite Hugo’s offer of our floor, realizing that after our separation, we needed some privacy. I wondered if he had seen his sister. Sister Julia had come undone after the death of baby Gabriel and shut herself in her cell, pleading for privacy. Archie hadn’t said a word to either of us, but he would have understood what Julia was going through. He’d lost his nieces and nephew as well as a brother-in-law five years ago, and he’d lost his sister.
I ate my dinner without tasting what I was chewing, quickly undressed, and climbed into bed thankful that the children next door had finally settled down. Hugo blew out the candle and got in next to me. I didn’t protest as he reached for me, nor did I actively participate. I was too numb after the events of the day. Hugo understood. He kissed me and caressed me until I finally began to reawaken, to welcome his touch. Only then did he push my legs apart and take me, rocking me gently and silently, like a ghost who wanted to possess me.
I wrapped my legs around him, urging him to go deeper, to touch my soul. I cried out softly as I finally let go of my grief and restraint and allowed him to carry me along with him to a shattering physical release. I didn’t let him go as he rested his head on my shoulder, his breathing shallow as his heart slowed down in time to my own. We didn’t speak, but eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms.
October 2013
Surrey, England
Chapter 36
Stella Harding adjusted the blanket around the prone form of Lady Naomi Everly, and stepped quietly from the ground
floor room she’d prepared in anticipation of her mistress’s homecoming. The two orderlies who’d brought her from the hospital had already departed in the ambulance, leaving Stella alone. She walked slowly to the kitchen, put the kettle on to boil, and took out her favorite teacup and saucer. There were a few biscuits in the tin, and she arranged them on the plate, eager for a little bit of normalcy after the past week. She’d known as soon as she found Naomi on the sofa that things were dire, but had still harbored some hope that she might rally. After a week in the hospital, the prognosis wasn’t hopeful.
Stella poured herself a cup of tea, added a splash of milk, and dunked a biscuit in the cup, just as she had done every day for the past twenty-five years of working at Everly Manor. She liked her elevenses. It was a time to take a break and have a cuppa before beginning to prepare lunch. She wouldn’t be preparing lunch today. Lady Everly couldn’t take any solid food, so Stella would feed her some lukewarm broth through a straw. Naomi hadn’t been able to speak, but once in a while she moaned something that sounded like “Max,” which nearly broke Stella’s heart.
She was just finishing her tea when she heard the crunch of wheels on gravel as a silver Mercedes pulled up to the house. Dr. David Lomax emerged from the car, his medical bag in hand as he jogged up the steps to the front door. Stella put her cup in the sink, patted her hair into place, and went to let the doctor in.
“Hello, Stella,” Dr. Lomax said as he kissed her on the cheek.
“Hello, David,” Stella replied. She was suddenly very tired and glad to see a sympathetic face. Dr. Lomax was the type of doctor who never needed to work on his bedside manner. He was a person patients felt instantly comfortable with and put their trust in without question. Most modern doctors only saw patients at the hospital or in their private surgeries, but David still made house calls and often simply stopped by if he felt his presence was needed. Stella had a sneaking suspicion that today’s visit wasn’t really meant for Lady Everly since she’d just been discharged from the hospital, but for herself.
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