Wonderland (Wonderland Series: Book 2)

by Irina Shapiro

  “I’m right here with you, love,” Hugo reassured me. “Don’t you know that I’m indestructible?”

  “No, you’re not. He would have killed you, he would have tortured you, he would have broken you,” I sobbed. “Why didn’t you tell me we were being watched?” I demanded, suddenly remembering what Hugo had said earlier.

  “I didn’t want to frighten you.”

  “And having armed men surround us threatening to kill you wasn’t frightening?” I retorted, my grief turning to anger. “You knew that would happen?”

  “No, I didn’t. I wasn’t sure who was watching us or why. I thought it might have been Jane. I had to bide my time and see what they had planned. I assumed that once we left London something would happen, but I wasn’t sure what. It was a waiting game; that’s why I had Archie guarding you at all times.”

  “Game?” I stammered. “Game?”

  “Shh, calm down, my sweet. It’s all over now. You need to warm up, eat, and get some sleep. It was all just a bad dream.”

  “Dream,” I repeated stupidly. Yes, I liked thinking of it as a dream, a nightmare. It was over. “I’ve woken up, just like Alice,” I said. “Where am I?”

  I suddenly began to feel very hot. My cheeks were flaming, and my chest felt constricted. I was very thirsty, and my stomach heaved in protest as the baby reacted to whatever was happening. My teeth were still chattering despite the fact that I was no longer cold, and I couldn’t get any words out for fear of biting my tongue.

  “You’re burning up,” Hugo said. His voice was full of alarm, but I was already slipping away. I tried to pry my eyes open, but couldn’t. Fatigue settled into my bones, making me feel as if my limbs were weighed down with iron dumbbells. I’d been hungry before, but now my stomach was twisting and roiling; bile rising in my throat as I fought the urge to throw up. I pushed Hugo away just in time as I vomited into the basin again and again. I was heaving, sweating, and falling all at once. Hugo caught me before I hit the floor and tucked me into bed. His face swam before my eyes, which were open to mere slits.

  “I feel sick,” I mumbled.

  “I know, love.” Hugo was sitting on the side of the bed, his face anguished. At least I wasn’t convulsing anymore. “Here, drink this.”

  “Hmm, that’s what the bottle said in Wonderland,” I giggled.

  “What is she talking about?” Jem asked. He sounded very frightened. “Where is Wonderland?”

  “She’s delirious, Jem.” I gulped down whatever Hugo was giving me. It was brandy. My muddled brain recognized that brandy was probably the only medicinal thing available to him in this godforsaken place. There was some reason why I couldn’t drink alcohol, but I couldn’t remember it. I seemed to be sinking into oblivion, my body floating as I succumbed to sleep.

  I felt Hugo’s body next to mine during the night, heard him talking to me softly, but couldn’t respond. He held me and tried to get me to drink more brandy, but I just turned my head away, disgusted by the taste. Jem’s worried voice seemed to be coming from somewhere, asking if I would be all right, but I couldn’t really tell where he was. Perhaps he was on the floor by the fire where it was warmest. I was warm enough as it was; burning in fact. I was sure that if I tried, I could breathe fire like some fairy-tale dragon.

  I was no longer sure if I was asleep or awake, hovering somewhere between the two worlds, on the brink of falling into oblivion. I actually felt strangely happy. I was floating on a cloud of peace, my body weightless and my mind serene for the first time in months. No one could harm me now; I was safe.

  Chapter 51

  Sun was streaming through the leaded window when I finally opened my eyes. A patch of blue sky was just visible, and the annoying drumming of the leak had stopped sometime during the night. I was warm, but not burning, and the raw, damp cold of the previous day had left my bones. I was ravenously hungry, and slightly hung over. Hugo must have given me a lot of brandy last night. I closed my eyes against the bright sun and put my arm over my face, suddenly realizing that I was alone in the room. I sat up alarmed, only to see Jem asleep on the floor. His face was relaxed in sleep; his lips curled in a beatific smile. The door creaked open, and Hugo came in bearing a tray.

  “You’re awake. How are you?” he asked as he studied my face for the tell-tale flush of fever. “You need to eat something.”

  “I feel better,” I said, as I sat up and accepted a warm buttered roll. Hugo handed me a cup of milk and watched happily as I ate.

  “Another?” He handed me a roll without waiting for my answer. “You were very ill last night,” he said. I could see the worry in his eyes as he reached out and touched my forehead to check my temperature. “I think it was a combination of shock and chill. How do you feel now?”

  “Weak, tired, queasy, but much better. I can travel,” I added.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “Are those cakes for Jem?” Two oatcakes sat on a plate next to the remaining rolls.

  “Those are souling cakes,” Hugo explained. “It’s November 2nd, All Souls’ Day. I was going to leave them out for my parents.”

  I’d never celebrated All Souls’ Day, so wasn’t familiar with the custom. All I knew was that it was a day to commemorate the dead. Hugo would have gone to church had there been a Catholic church to go to, but he had to make do with what he had. I was actually surprised that the tiny inn offered the cakes, but I supposed it was just another way to make a profit.

  “Do you think Archie has reached the convent yet?” I asked, as I returned my empty cup to the tray and made a move to get up. “Will they let Frances go without a fuss?”

  “I don’t see why not. They might keep the money I left,” Hugo replied, “but they took good care of her, so it’s their right, I suppose. I only hope she won’t be too spooked to go with Archie.”

  “Why would she be?” I asked, surprised by Hugo’s comment. I didn’t for a moment think that Frances would have any reservations about leaving. She wanted to come with us; she trusted us.

  “Archie is a young, strong, virile man whose body will be in close proximity to hers as they ride to Portsmouth,” Hugo explained. “After what Frances has been through at the hands of her husband, she might find that threatening. She has every reason to fear men, and being alone with Archie is not the same as being with all of us.”

  I was sure that Archie wouldn’t do anything to make Frances feel uncomfortable, but I hadn’t considered this aspect. Would he sense her fear and act accordingly, or would he just wrap his arms around her and pull her against his chest as they rode at speed, her buttocks grinding against his crotch for hours? I wasn’t sure how much Archie might be in tune with what Frances could be feeling. He was a clever lad, but few seventeenth-century men were keenly aware of the feelings and fears of women. Frances had trusted Hugo, but Hugo was old enough to be her father, and she saw him as being mine. Archie was a single man, one who exuded sex appeal even when dirty and disheveled, which could be threatening to a girl who’d been assaulted repeatedly.

  “Oh, dear,” I sighed. “Perhaps you should have gone to get her.”

  “I wouldn’t leave you, not in the state you were in. Frances will just have to grin and bear it,” Hugo said as he shook Jem awake. “It’s nearly noon; we must get going if we mean to arrive in Portsmouth before the closing of the gates for the night,” Hugo said.

  “Noon? How long have I been asleep?” I asked, aghast.

  “Since about seven last night. I didn’t want to wake you. Your body needed time to rest, and your mind needed time to cope,” Hugo replied.

  “Sometimes you sound very modern, Hugo Everly,” I said with a smile. “Twenty-first century was good for you.”

  Hugo just grinned in return as he lifted Jem off the floor. The child was still dead to the world, so Hugo tried to tickle him to wake him up.

  “Noooo,” Jem moaned. “I’m tired.”

  “I have fresh buttered rolls and milk,” Hugo offered, knowin
g that Jem couldn’t resist food. The boy rubbed his eyes and finally forced them open.

  “All right,” he mumbled.

  “Do you think I can persuade you to eat your breakfast downstairs?” I asked, suddenly aware of urgent physical needs. “I need a few moments to freshen up. And wash your hands and face, Jem.”

  Hugo scooped up Jem, who grabbed his rolls and then left me alone, and just in time too. I’d never been so happy to see a chamber pot; my bladder was about to burst.

  **

  It was just past 1 p.m. when we finally left the inn and returned to the road. It was still slow-going due to the mud from yesterday’s downpour, but at least the day was sunny and bright, and I did my best not to dwell on the events of the day before. Hugo seemed in better spirits as well, but he looked over at me from time to time to make sure I was all right. Last night had scared him; I knew that. If there was anyone with medical knowledge, they would most likely be in Portsmouth, not in a tiny hamlet which probably didn’t even have a name. My hand went protectively to my belly. We needed to get to France, and soon, before the baby was born.

  Chapter 52

  The ride to Portsmouth was uneventful, but I couldn’t help looking back every so often, expecting to be pursued by soldiers of the Crown. I couldn’t ignore the tension in Hugo’s shoulders and the rigid set of his back. Despite his reassurances, he wasn’t as sure that we were free as he claimed. I didn’t question him, but every time I heard hoofbeats on the road, I nearly shrieked with terror. By the time the walls of Portsmouth came into view, I was exhausted from worrying and relieved to have finally arrived. It was easier to hide in a town full of people than on the open road where we were constantly in full view.

  Hugo took us to an inn where we previously stayed, awakening a bizarre feeling of de ja vu. Was it only two months ago that we were here, ready to sail for France on the Mathilde? It seemed more like two years. I tried to eat some supper, but ended up just moving food around my plate, my stomach too knotted with anxiety to eat, and my hands shaking with fatigue. I finally gave up and pushed the plate away despite Hugo’s concerned gaze. Normally, I was always hungry, so he knew I wasn’t as well as I claimed to be. Jem seized my plate and finished my meal, completely ignoring the silent exchange between the adults.

  “I think I’ll retire,” I said as I began to undress. All I wanted was to go to sleep and find oblivion in my dreams, but the laces proved to be a challenge. My fingers refused to obey since I was achy and tired, my mind worn out by constant worry and fear. I yanked on the strings in frustration, close to tears, but they wouldn’t give. Hugo came up behind me and pulled me against his chest.

  “I know what will help,” he whispered, his breath in my ear making me shiver.

  “Are you mad? Jem is here,” I whispered back, appalled by the suggestion.

  “So? This is not the twenty-first century. Most children sleep in the same bed while their parents copulate. Jem will not be shocked by anything he sees or hears,” Hugo added matter-of-factly.

  “Absolutely not,” I replied, shaking my head, but my body was saying something different, entirely betraying me. I was melting into Hugo, leaning my head back to allow him to kiss my neck as he cupped my breasts and massaged them gently, moving his thumbs over my sensitive nipples.

  “Jemmy, find your bed,” Hugo instructed. Jem gave him a wicked grin, but obeyed, and spread his bedroll by the fire, turning his face away from the bed as Hugo deftly untied my laces and lifted me off my feet.

  “Close the bed-curtains,” I hissed. That was perhaps the last coherent thought I had that night. Hugo did as I asked, and proceeded to spend the next hour turning me into a quivering mass of desire. At first, I was still tense, but little by little, I began to let go and succumb to the release he was offering. Hugo took his time, kissing and caressing me until I could no longer think, much less resist. My hips arched toward his in silent demand, but he held off, making sure that I was good and ready. This was the only therapy he could think of to help me deal with everything that had happened. He couldn’t offer me analysis or prescription drugs to numb my pain; all he could offer me was his love and the promise of the future.

  By the time he finally took me, I went off like a firework after a few thrusts, convulsing around him with an intensity I hadn’t expected after the last twenty-four hours. My body seemed to let go of the fear and tension and just did what came naturally. He needed me too, and I gave myself up to him completely as he rocked me gently, seeking his own release, which was quick and powerful.

  “Better now?” Hugo asked as he rested his forehead against mine. He could see the answer in my drooping eyelids. “Good night, my sweet,” he said as I fell asleep in his arms.

  Chapter 53

  Frances looked in dismay at the firmly shut gates built into the city wall around Portsmouth. Several torches burned bright in their sconces, casting pools of light onto the stretch of road approaching the city. Archie had warned her that the gates would be closed by now, but she didn’t believe him and needed to see for herself to be sure that he was telling her the truth. Frances drew the cloak tighter around her body and gave Archie a stubborn nod, acquiescing to spending the night in a barn they’d passed on the way.

  The farmhouse had been burnt out, but the barn was still intact, offering shelter against the cold November night. The day had been sunny, but now thick clouds obscured the rising moon, and the wind had picked up, effortlessly penetrating the thick folds of Frances’s cloak and making her shiver with cold. They’d ridden hard the whole day, and Frances was tired, hungry, and afraid. She longed to see Neve and Lord Everly and feel safe at last.

  Archie had come to collect her just as the sun was rising above the tree line beyond the convent wall, and furious birdsong erupted all around, creatures large and small waking to another day. The rain of the night before had finally stopped, and shy golden rays filtered through the riotous colors of the fall, the leaves burning like tongues of orange and red flame in stark contrast to the cloudless blue sky. The nuns were still at prayer, so Archie had to wait outside until they finished, and someone could open the door. Frances had been overjoyed to see him until she realized that he was quite alone.

  Archie was escorted directly to Mother Superior and emerged a few minutes later having completed his business. Frances hovered nearby, eager to hear the news. Was her life about to change, or was Archie here for a different reason?

  “Get your things, Frances,” Archie announced gruffly, “you’re coming with me. We are to meet Lord Everly and Mistress Ashley in Portsmouth, hopefully tonight.”

  Frances was torn between excitement and fear as she dashed to her cell to collect her few belongings. She had only one gown and the cloak in which she had arrived. When at the convent, she wore a gray sack-like garment which covered her from head to foot. Under the circumstances, it seemed best to leave it on. Frances folded her clothes into a small sack, and threw a last look at the cell that had been her home since April. She wouldn’t miss it, but it had offered safety, for which she’d be eternally grateful.

  Archie was already by the gate, waiting for her. He was chewing on a hunk of bread liberally spread with butter and topped with a slice of cold pork. Sister Julia was by his side, talking quietly. They wouldn’t be seeing each other again anytime soon, not if Archie left for France. The thought of seeing France buoyed Frances’s spirits, but there was one last thing she had to do before saying goodbye to the sisters. She’d imagined this moment several times before, and it broke her heart, but this time it was for real and needed to be done.

  “Master Hicks, I need to visit Gabriel’s grave,” she said as she handed him her sack. “I won’t be long.” Frances turned to walk away, but was surprised to find Archie walking alongside her, his breakfast finished. “Where are you going?” she asked, glaring at him.

  “I’d like to pay my respects, if you have no objection,” Archie replied as he continued to walk by her side. Frances didn’t say anythi
ng, but she was touched by the gesture. Archie removed his hat, and they stood side by side over the mound of dirt where her son slept. A plain cross stuck out of the ground bearing his name. Archie bent his head and said a prayer for Gabriel’s soul then turned to leave, giving Frances a few moments of privacy. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but hot tears slid down her cheeks as she gazed upon the tiny grave.

  “I will never forget you, Gabriel. Never. You will always be in my heart, as long as I live,” she whispered, hoping that Gabriel knew she wasn’t deserting him. “You’ll be safe here. The nuns will look after your resting place, my angel, and I will come back some day. I promise.” Frances kissed her fingers and pressed them against the wood of the cross before she turned on her heel and ran toward the gate, unable to stand the guilt she felt for leaving her son alone.

  The nuns were gathered by Sister Angela’s hut, ready to say goodbye. They had been kind to her, and Frances gave each one a kiss on the cheek, despite their aversion to physical affection. It was the only way she could show them how much they’d meant to her, especially Sister Angela and Sister Julia, who’d taken her under their wing and tried to help her cope, especially after Gabriel’s death. Mother Superior came forward and kissed Frances on the forehead. “Take care, my child, and never forget that God loves you and is looking out for you. Bless you.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Frances replied. She wasn’t so sure that God loved her at all, or had been looking out for her when Lionel beat her half to death or when her baby died, but she chose to remain silent and accept the blessing. What harm could it do? The nuns began to disperse as Frances walked toward the open gate, followed by Sister Angela and Sister Julia.

  “Be well, ducky,” Sister Angela said as she drew Frances into a hug. “I know you think God has forsaken you, but the best is yet to come; you’ll see. Just don’t close your heart to love.”