The Promise

by May McGoldrick

  His eyes shone with unshed tears when they met hers. “I have never talked about the past with anyone. I have refused to allow anyone to question me about Elizabeth…or about my father. I have fought against allowing anyone to enter here...” He touched his chest with a fist. “…Where I know they would see my weakness, my failure.”

  Eternity be damned, Rebecca thought, walking to him and wrapping her arms around him. His hands were fierce as they pressed her close to him.

  “There is nothing that I want hidden from you, Rebecca. I want you to know the truth about me. I am flawed—in many ways I am quite as bad as my father. I would never have searched for James or Elizabeth if my father, on his death bed, had not begged me to forgive him and made me promise to bring James back. It was that promise that sent Birch in search of you. It was only an unexpected blessing that the same promise brought you here, as well.”

  A tear fell from his eye and mingled with hers as she raised her lips and kissed him.

  “I love you, Rebecca, and whatever haunts your past matters naught. I cannot let you go.” He cupped her face with his hands and she tried to calm her sobs.

  “I need you. James needs you. You have given both of us a second chance at life.” His lips tasted the tears on her face. “I want you to marry me. I want you to stay.”

  Rebecca buried her face in his neck. Though her very life depended upon it, she could think of no way to end the sorrow that would tear their hearts apart.

  Her words were muffled against his chest, but she forced them out. “I killed a man. Though I struck out at him in self-defense and to protect my virtue, I killed him. And then I fled. And I must run again…for it is only a matter of time before I will be discovered.”

  She held him tight, not wanting to look up and see his reaction to the shocking truth. “I know I am a coward for running. But I cannot afford to be caught while I am…somehow associated with you or James. I can never allow any of my shame to taint your good name.”

  “The devil take my name,” he said roughly, pulling her back and staring into her face. “I know you, Rebecca. You would not hurt a creature if you could avoid it. I shall use every connection I have to secure some pardon for you. I shall go to the king, himself…”

  “No!” She shook her head. “I cannot chance it…I cannot chance your lives…your names…I have to go.”

  “Then I shall go with you.”

  She didn’t deserve such a gesture. Tears coursed down her face, and her body was wracked with sobs.

  He gently took hold of her chin. “I never even glimpsed true happiness before I met you. James is the next earl. The family name shall survive as my father so desperately wished it. But I need none of it. We shall go to the colonies together. We shall start…”

  “Stop!” She placed her hand against his lips and shook her head. “You cannot leave him here. He needs you. Your people need you. The work you are doing…the good things that you are bringing about…”

  “Rebecca!” He forced her to look into his face. “You and I are destined to be together. I will not stand here and argue this. Instead, I am telling you…that somehow…in whatever way we need to make it work…we shall be together…and for the rest of our lives.”

  She gazed deeply into his eyes. There was no point to be gained in arguing, now. Their fates, their futures, were as far apart as the earth and the sky. For now, though, she wanted no rancor between them. With so few days left, she wouldn’t allow anything to cast a shadow over the moments of happiness that were left to them.

  His lips took hers in a frenzy of need, and Rebecca responded. “I shan’t let you out of my sight for a moment.” He took the candelabra from the table. One arm remained around her. “And propriety be damned! I shall drink in the sight of you for as long as you allow me. Tomorrow morning, you will join James and me in our morning ride. In the afternoon, you can come with me to the village to meet with Reverend Trimble and Mr. Cunningham…”

  Stanmore continued to talk, and she simply listened, basking in the warmth of his affection.

  And as they left the musty chambers of a sordid past, Rebecca tried to think only of the present and of his loving arms around her. The decisions that would tear them apart had already been made, but the future held time enough for tears.

  ***

  Night still lay like a blanket over Melbury Hall when Millicent slipped out of the house and ran through the darkness to the Grove. As soon as they saw her, Jonah and Violet appeared in the clearing.

  “Mr. Cunningham should be here shortly!” Millicent said, looking down the dark pathway. “Perhaps we should start out and meet him.”

  Violet shivered in the chilly pre-dawn air. “Do I have time to run to the house for a minute, m’lady?”

  “You cannot be serious! What if you are discovered?”

  “I shall be in and out in a lightning flash,” the girl whispered convincingly. “I have my mama’s locket still under my bedding in the attic. I also want to get the shawl my grandmum made for me when I was a wee thing. That’s all, ma’am. Those are the only two things I want to take with me.”

  Millicent heard the thump of the horse’s hoofs. A moment later, she saw a dark figure holding a lantern and leading the carriage into the clearing. She rushed toward him with Vi at her elbow.

  “Mr. Cunningham—” She whispered her greeting. “I cannot thank you enough for all you are doing.”

  “Lady Wentworth!”

  The schoolmaster made no attempt to hide his frown as he held the lamp up to her face. Millicent took an involuntary step back as she remembered that she was wearing no hat or veil to cover the ugly bruises on her face.

  “Millicent,” he said more gently. “What has happened? Who did this to you…as if I need to ask?”

  “May I go, m’lady? May I run to the house?”

  “Go, Vi!” she whispered, turning her face to the girl. “But hurry!”

  Without pausing, the young servant lifted her skirts and ran as fast as she could toward the main house. The servant’s door through the kitchen was open, and she slipped in without a sound. Climbing carefully, she made her way toward the rooms in the attic. The soles of her shoes were quiet. Vi knew that the other girls would be waking very soon, and she needed to get in and out before the others made a stir.

  The sound of heavier footsteps behind her as she neared the top made her freeze in terror. Whoever it was, he carried a candle. She cringed and hugged the shadows of the wall. If he came up to the attic, he would find her for sure!

  No one knew that Lady Wentworth was having her taken away this morning. No one but the lady herself and Jonah and the four black women who had hidden her in their hut.

  The footsteps were as hurried as her own, but the man turned off at the landing below her and went down the hall toward the master’s and mistress’s bedchambers. Vi breathed a sigh of relief and looked at the stairs leading upward, and then made no move to climb any further. There was something terribly wrong, she thought. With furtive steps, she quietly retreated to the landing below and followed the person down the dark corridor.

  She heard the impatient tap on a door and still crept ahead—keeping to the shadows. There was another knock, and she saw a door fling open. The dawn was breaking, for the squire’s bedchamber was brighter than the corridor.

  “What is it?” Wentworth’s angry bark echoed through the house.

  “Cunningham is here!” The bailiff’s pleased voice chilled her. She pressed her back against the wall and waited. “He is here with a carriage. She must be running away with him.”

  They knew she was running away, Vi thought, turning to retreat again.

  “I had no desire to tell you, master. But her ladyship’s been lifting her skirts for him. I saw them at the Grove not a week past. And then, Monday, she went down to the village to meet him. And now she is going to run off with the snake.”

  “I think not. I’ll kill them both, by the devil. Get my gun!”

  Wentworth
’s shout sent Vi running back to the stairs. Crazy with fear, she broke from the house and ran past the gardens.

  She needed to warn them. Running down the path, she could see Jonah at the edge of the trees. Even if they started now, they wouldn’t get far. And Lady Wentworth wouldn’t run, anyway. Vi knew she needed to get help.

  “Jonah,” Vi panted, taking hold of his arm. “Go and warn her ladyship. The squire thinks she’s running off with the schoolmaster. He’s coming, and he’s got his gun. Run and warn her. Hurry! I’m going to Solgrave for help!”

  CHAPTER 31

  They moved to the edge of the stream. Standing with him, Millicent glanced back at the black workers who had gathered in the clearing. If Vi did not leave soon, and the slaves did not move out into the fields, Mickleby would surely be coming down here to find out what was the matter.

  “You must come with me, too.” Cunningham’s gentle hand cupped Millicent’s jaw. “I cannot stand by any longer and see what he is doing to you. He is dismembering you, limb from limb, body from soul.”

  “No, William. My soul is my own.” She let the tears roll down her face. “I cannot go with you. If I do, he shall find you…find us…and then where should we be?”

  “We can go to Scotland. I know of places where he can never find us. Come away with me, Millicent!”

  She wrapped her own hand around his wrist and placed a kiss on his palm. “You have been the most precious of friends. Take Vi today. Arrange for the girl to be sent back to her family. If I knew of a place where the rest of these people could be safe, I’d ask you to take them, too. Nobody deserves to be left here, subjected to this cruelty.”

  “Nobody but you?” he asked angrily. “Staying here does not make it any easier for these people. He does not torture them any less because he has just used his fist on your face—or just abused your precious body.”

  “Please, William,” she begged, placing a hand against his lips and lowering her own voice. “I am going away. Someplace where he cannot ever find me or touch me.”

  “Going? Going where?”

  “Do not ask me! But please trust me when I say that I shall be taken care of. It is just these people…that I have to do something about.”

  He held her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. “But what about me? About us? Please Millicent…will you never understand? I love you.”

  She brushed her cheek against his. For the first time, she went willingly into his arms and allowed his strength to flow into her. “You mean so much to me.”

  Jonah’s cry of alarm as he ran down the hill from the house jerked Millicent out of Cunningham’s arms. They quickly returned to the carriage and watched the man run toward them.

  “He is coming!” he spoke hoarsely. “The squire is coming, m’lady, and he is bringing his gun. He thinks you’re running away with the schoolmaster.”

  Millicent frantically looked toward the house. “Where is Vi?”

  “She’s run to Solgrave for help. She says he is ready to kill someone, m’lady. You’d best go.”

  She turned to Cunningham. “Go! Please, just go. He shall kill you if he finds you here.”

  “You must come with me.”

  She shook her head. “I cannot! I have to prove to him that he was wrong, or…” She looked around at the throng of workers. “…Or there is no telling what he’ll do! Please go…go now!”

  “I shan’t,” he said stubbornly, refusing to move even when she tried to push him toward the carriage. “The monster will take it out on you. I shall stay and explain. I was here…I came here…because someone was sick. This is not the first time I have been here.”

  “You do not understand! Please…!” She began to sob, glancing constantly toward the pathway and the house. “Wentworth will hear no explanation. He has been looking for a reason to kill you…to kill me. Do not let him find us here together. Go!”

  Cunningham had his hands on her shoulders, trying to argue with her when Squire Wentworth strode into the clearing with Mickleby following behind. All Millicent could do was gasp in terror and turn in William’s arm, shielding his body with her own as the barrel of the gun lifted toward them.

  ***

  The dawn was breaking in the east when the three riders left the stables of Solgrave and started out on their morning ride.

  “I cannot believe that you told me once that you do not ride,” Stanmore said as he watched her graceful handling of the horse.

  Rebecca smiled at the compliment and met Stanmore’s warm gaze. “It was not a lie. I had not ridden a horse since I was a student at Mrs. Stockdale’s school in Oxford.”

  “So she is the one who is responsible for all your flaws. I have heard of the school.”

  “Flaws?” she whispered in mock anger. She glanced up at James riding his pony a safe distance ahead of them first. “As I recall, you were describing me in terms of absolute perfection only an hour ago.”

  He lowered his voice even further and leaned toward her—a suggestive gleam in his dark eyes. “And were you not perfectly naked with me buried deep inside of you at the time?”

  She blushed deeply and tried to turn her face away, but his gentle touch on her knee drew her gaze back. “You are absolute perfection, my love—clothed or not. And my reference to your flaws? You have none…so I must give Mrs. Stockdale some credit for helping form the woman that I love.”

  Rebecca placed her hand in his, warmed inside and out by the way he placed a kiss on her fingers and then her palm.

  As Jamey slowed his pony and turned toward them, they both let go of the other’s hand and shifted guiltily in their saddles. The boy looked from one to the other before speaking. “May we ride toward the old woodcutter’s cottage? I promised Israel to check on the place this morning while we were out riding.”

  “We shall go where you lead us.”

  Stanmore’s encouraging tone brought a smile to the lad’s face, and Jamey spurred his pony on ahead of them.

  “Is that the place where you found Israel?” Rebecca asked softly, glancing at the sword that the earl had taken to wearing on their rides.

  Stanmore nodded. “But I believe this is also the place where the two boys first met. It is near enough to Melbury Hall…”

  The earl’s eyes narrowed and Rebecca looked up in time to see Jamey reining in his pony. Across the meadow a girl was running toward them. Drawing up next to the lad, they stopped as the girl neared them. She was crying out incoherently, and the earl immediately dismounted and took her by the arm.

  “He has a gun, m’lord. He is going to kill Mr. Cunningham and m’lady. Hurry, m’lord. Please hurry!”

  “Who has a gun?”

  “Squire Wentworth, m’lord. He thinks my mistress is running away with Mr. Cunningham. But she isn’t…it’s all a lie Mickleby’s done given him…and…the schoolmaster came in to take me back to my family…the squire was going to hurt me…”

  “James, ride back to Solgrave as fast as you can go, and tell Porson bring some men to Melbury Hall.” He leaped onto his own horse as James yanked his pony around and galloped back the way they’d come. “Rebecca, take this girl…”

  “I am coming with you,” she responded, cutting him off. “Millicent is my friend. I have to come.”

  Stanmore frowned fiercely, but nodded.

  “Very well, but stay behind me and keep your distance,” he warned. “Wentworth is fool enough to hurt anyone who stands in his way.”

  “I promise to stay clear of him,” she whispered. “Be on your way.”

  As Stanmore charged ahead, Rebecca looked down at the weeping girl. “Make your way back to Solgrave and wait there. Ask for Mrs. Trent when you get there. She will see to you until we get back.”

  “I am worried to death about my mistress, ma’am. She is…”

  “His lordship will see to it. You did very well in coming after him. Now be on your way.”

  Rebecca spurred her horse after Stanmore, suddenly frantic with worry herself. And if
Wentworth were even to touch Stanmore, she found herself thinking, she would kill again.

  ***

  Millicent pressed her back against William and refused to be pushed aside. “Let him go, Wentworth. This is not what you think.”

  “The whore and her court.” He laughed crudely, glancing at the black workers gathered around her. “So this is what I have been doing wrong for the past five years. This is why you push me away. Her ladyship likes an audience. Or is it that she likes more than one in her at a time.”

  “You are abominable. Do not dare to speak to her that way.” Cunningham pushed Millicent aside, and took a step forward. “You are a vile pig, Wentworth. You disgrace yourself…you disgrace everything that…”

  The shot echoed off the trees and the huts, stunning everyone with its suddenness. The horse that was harnessed to the carriage leaped ahead a few steps at the sound, but stopped by the water.

  The schoolmaster, thrown backwards by the shot, was sitting and staring in disbelief at the hole in his chest. Pressing his hands to the wound as blood began to pour out, he looked up at Millicent and then stretched out backwards.

  “NO!” she screamed, dropping to her knees beside him. The blood formed a thin black river beneath him and spread out on the dirt. She pressed her hand against his chest, but to no avail.

  “No! Please do not die, William. Please…!”

  She touched his face, her fingers marking his brow, his cheek, his still lips with blood. His eyes were open but stared sightlessly into the dawn sky.

  Wentworth handed the gun to Mickleby and drew his sword. “And who is to die next, Millicent?” He walked to the line of workers standing silently around her. At his approach, no one cowered. No one withdrew.

  “Kill me!” Millicent sobbed, bending over the dead body of the schoolmaster. “Kill me and be done with it.”