Derek drove up to the church and stopped in the wide rectangle reserved for the carts and wagons of the parishioners who lived too far to walk, then helped Alice down and offered her his arm, in case her steps should falter. The reverend was standing outside. He was a tall, thin man with a balding pate and soulful dark eyes. He appeared to be waiting for them.
“I’m very sorry,” he said softly, his sympathy nearly bringing Alice to tears. “Go on in. I will make sure you are not disturbed.”
“Thank you,” Alice muttered.
Now that the moment was upon her, all she wanted was to leave. Her heart was pounding with terror, her hands were ice-cold, and she felt faint, but she forced herself to walk into the church and headed up the nave toward the row of bodies laid out before the pulpit. The bodies were tightly wrapped in coarse shrouds, making them look like giant maggots. Alice supposed a town the size of Milford had only one carpenter, who couldn’t possibly make seventeen coffins on such short notice. Linen was easier to come by, and the dead would take up less room in the graves they were to share. These people might not have known each other well in life, but they would lie together for eternity in a place no one would ever think to look for them.
Alice cautiously drew closer. The fabric was parted just enough to reveal the features and hair color of the victims. She felt ill, and a tightness in her chest made it difficult to draw breath. Derek wrapped his arm about her waist, offering silent support, and she leaned against him, afraid her knees might buckle.
“Do you wish to leave?” he asked softly.
“No.”
“Then how about you sit down for a moment?” he offered.
“No.”
“All right, then.” He led her slowly along the row of corpses, allowing her to stand silently in front of each body for a number of seconds before moving on. It took no more than five minutes to reach the end of the line, but it felt like five hours, each face burning into Alice’s brain, their features familiar yet completely foreign at the same time.
“Do you recognize anyone?” Derek asked as he escorted her to a pew and sat down next to her.
She was breathing raggedly, trying to keep the nausea at bay, but it seemed to roll over her, like the crushing waves that had sunk the ship. She shook her head. These people were strangers to her. She’d stood longest before the women, trying desperately to remember their faces. The women on the ship likely would have spoken, banded together in the company of men, but they were as unknown to her as the rest. There had to have been others who hadn’t washed ashore. Or maybe they’d washed up somewhere further down the coast. Maybe someone had survived and was out there even now, telling their story, naming the ship, sending a message to someone who’d spread the news.
Would someone come for her if they knew where she was? Did she have parents? Siblings? A family of her own? She didn’t even know how old she was. She’d seen her reflection in the hand mirror Hannah had lent her. She was pretty, she supposed, except for that haunted look in her eyes. And young. Twenty? Twenty-two? She was old enough to be someone’s wife, even someone’s mother. Did she have children out there somewhere? A husband who’d be grieving for her? Alice stole a peek at her left hand. She wore no wedding ring, but that didn’t mean anything. She might have lost it, or someone could have slid it off her finger. Perhaps they’d found her first and helped themselves to the one thing of value.
Two women hurried into the church and approached the row of bodies, carefully covering their faces before the mourners came inside. They must have prepared the dead, Alice thought, watching the no-nonsense way the women handled the deceased.
“Alice, are you all right?” Ben asked as he sat down heavily next to her. Hannah and Josh slid in next to him, the pew now nearly full.
“I’m fine. Thank you, Ben,” she said.
“Did you recognize anyone?”
“No.”
“That’s a shame,” Hannah said. “It might have made it easier for you, knowing you’d said your goodbyes.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Alice agreed. She had been partly relieved not to have recognized any of the victims. Maybe she hadn’t known them. Maybe none of them had belonged to her in any personal way.
The funeral service began, and she allowed her mind to drift, unable to listen to the words of Reverend Paulson. She didn’t want to hear about death in the midst of life. She wished she could just walk out of the church and wander outside among the golden trees and the bare fields, the fresh wind caressing her face and tugging at her hair, making her feel gloriously alive.
At last, the service ended, and all able-bodied men trooped to the front, each pair lifting one of the bodies off the floor. They carried them out into the graveyard, and everyone else followed, their heads bowed as they watched the nameless victims lowered carefully into the waiting graves. Alice excused herself and walked away, unable to watch. She stood with her back to the graveyard, facing the town.
A tremor of fear ran through her when two British soldiers stepped out of the tavern, heading toward the church. They were young, mere boys, and they walked along at an unhurried pace, their posture relaxed, but they were armed, their muskets slung over their shoulders, the bayonets gleaming in the autumn sun.
Both men tipped their tricorns to her when they spotted her, muttering, “Good day, madam.”
“Good day,” Alice replied woodenly. Why did she fear them? They’d barely looked at her.
She found Derek’s trap and leaned against it, needing its solid support at her back. She wanted to go back to the farm, to hide in the attic room, to sleep. She felt weak, her stomach heaving as her mouth grew dry, then black spots appeared before her eyes, and the world around her grew silent.
“Alice. Alice.” The voice came from far away, insistent and high-pitched. “Alice, can you hear me?”
Alice opened her eyes. She was lying on the ground beneath the wheels of the trap, her face shadowed by the conveyance. Hannah was leaning over her, her face anxious. She laid a cool hand on Alice’s brow.
“There now,” she said soothingly. “You’ll feel better soon. Help me, Derek,” she ordered.
Derek, who’d been hovering behind his mother, stepped forward and lifted Alice into his arms, settling her on the bench of the trap. “All right?” he asked, his gaze searching her face. She nodded, but a wave of nausea overtook her as soon as she moved her head.
Derek climbed onto the bench and took up the reins. “Lean on me,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Alice looked around but didn’t see the auburn-haired woman, so she nestled against Derek’s side, grateful for his solid warmth. She felt better once they left the churchyard.
“It’s off to bed with you,” Derek said, his tone that of a father sending a child to bed. “This was too much for you.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “It was. I feel lightheaded.”
“I’d give you a stiff drink, but Dr. Rosings would have my head. No spirits, he said.”
Alice thought a glass of sherry or even Madeira might bolster her sagging spirits and waning strength. “If we get back before the others—”
Derek looked at her and grinned. “We’d best hurry, then.”
He slapped the horse’s rump with the reins, and it broke into a trot, making the trap sway from side to side. Alice gripped the bench, feeling nauseated again. She tried to breathe through her nose and fix her gaze on a distant point instead of looking around. That seemed to help, and soon the sickness passed.
“We’re going to look after you,” Derek said. “Don’t worry.”
That’s not what you said yesterday, Alice almost blurted out. She’d heard his objections through the thin walls, his voice indignant as it floated up to her attic room. And Ben’s deeper, softer voice, challenging him, ready to take him on should Derek decide to cast her out. He’d changed his tune. Was it because he’d seen her? Did he find her beautiful? Did he think she was there for the taking?
Alic
e shifted away from Derek, making sure they were no longer touching. Was that what this was about? She’d thought he was being chivalrous, but perhaps he was just using her weakened state to touch her, to get her used to being touched by him.
No! The word exploded in her brain like a shot fired from a cannon. No! No man was going to touch her without her say-so.
Chapter 14
After a nearly silent midday meal, Derek and Ben went off to see to their chores, and Josh was sent to the parlor to read for an hour, while Hannah busied herself with clearing and washing the dishes. Alice would have helped, but the funeral had left her physically weak and emotionally overwrought, her mind still refusing to come to terms with the tragedy she’d been part of.
“Go sit outside for a spell,” Hannah said. “The fresh air and sunshine will do you good.”
Alice nodded and stepped outside, glad to be alone. She closed her eyes and turned her face up to the sun, trying desperately to find a pleasant image to replace the one she had in her mind, but the yawning graves were not so easily displaced, the cocoon-like bodies with their bloated faces swimming before her eyes, silently blaming her for not being able to recall their names.
“Good day,” a haughty voice said, startling Alice. She hadn’t heard anyone approach. She opened her eyes to find the woman she’d seen before the funeral standing before her, her gaze narrowed as she studied Alice. She was very beautiful, her auburn hair shining like copper in the sunlight and her wide blue eyes the color of cornflowers, but the hostility Alice had noticed earlier was still there, and it made Alice deeply uncomfortable.
“I’m Lydia Blackwell,” the woman supplied.
“Eh… Good day, Mistress Blackwell,” Alice muttered. “Hannah is inside.”
“It’s you I’ve come to see,” Lydia said, sitting down next to Alice without being invited to.
“What can I do for you?” Alice asked warily.
Lydia smiled solicitously. “It’s what I can do for you,” she replied. “Seeing as you’ve lost all your possessions, I thought I’d bring you a couple of things. It’s not much, just one of my older gowns and some petticoats. Oh, and a pair of hose. They’ve been darned, but I’m sure they’ll do in a pinch.” She handed Alice the bundle she’d brought.
“Thank you,” Alice said. “That’s very kind.”
“Christian charity begins at home, I always say. I was going to give these to my slave girl, but you are in greater need. Hetty can wait.” She cocked her head to the side, as if expecting Alice to thank her again, but Alice remained silent, wishing Lydia would take the hint and leave.
“They say Ben found you on the beach.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Strange that he brought you here,” Lydia observed. “I would have thought you’d be better off at Dr. Rosings’, where he could keep an eye on you.”
“I believe he’d offered to take me,” Alice replied, wondering what Lydia was getting at.
“Your people must be worried sick about you. Have you sent word?”
“Not yet,” Alice replied, not wishing to explain to this unpleasant woman that she couldn’t recall anything of her past.
“Well, you shouldn’t tarry. No doubt they’ll be happy to have you back.”
“No doubt,” Alice agreed.
“Had you been traveling with your husband?” Lydia asked, watching Alice with those cool eyes.
“Oh, Lydia, what a surprise,” Hannah said as she stepped outside, saving Alice from having to reply. “What brings you by?”
“I brought some things for your guest,” Lydia said sweetly. “Seeing how bedraggled she looked at the funeral, I thought I could easily spare one of last year’s gowns. You might need to take it in a bit in the bosom, but the length should be just right.”
“Your kindness knows no bounds,” Hannah said, disguising the sarcasm with a knowing smile. “Derek is not here. He’s in the lower field.”
“I’ll see him later. He promised to come by,” Lydia said smugly as she cast a look of triumph at Alice.
“I’ll be sure to mention your generosity to him,” Hannah said.
Lydia waited a moment, perhaps hoping she’d be invited in for a cup of tea or cider, but when Hannah failed to issue an invitation, Lydia said goodbye and left.
“Don’t take anything she said to heart,” Hannah said. “Lydia can be a bit high-handed, especially when made to feel insecure.”
“She has no cause to worry,” Alice said, and stood. A part of her wished she could throw the bundle of clothes into the pigpen, but the more practical part asserted itself, and she took the clothes up to her room. Despite Lydia’s arrogant attitude, a spare gown was always welcome.
Chapter 15
March 2018
London
The afternoon was mild, the hazy sunshine bathing the playground in golden light. Several children in colorful coats climbed on the monkey bars and went down the slides while their parents stood nearby or sat on the benches, watching them play. Quinn pushed the swing harder, and Mia squealed with delight, her dark eyes bright with excitement.
“Me too,” Alex cried. “I want to go higher.”
Quinn gave him a push and reached into her coat pocket. Her phone was vibrating. It was Colin.
“Hi, Colin,” Quinn said, surprised to hear from him so soon. “You have news for me?”
“Can you come by the mortuary?” Colin asked without preamble. “In an hour or so?”
“Sure, but I’ll have to bring the children with me.”
“If they don’t mind, I don’t mind,” Colin replied. He sounded distracted, his mind already on something else. “I’ll see you soon.”
Taking Alex and Mia to the mortuary wasn’t ideal, but it made no sense to ring Nicola. Whatever Colin had to tell her probably wouldn’t take long. Quinn let them play for another half hour, then settled Mia in her buggy and took Alex by the hand. Alex didn’t protest, but Mia looked upset.
“I want to stay,” she complained.
“We can come back again tomorrow,” Quinn replied.
“I want to stay now,” Mia countered.
“I’m sorry, but someone is waiting for us.”
“Who? Daddy?” Alex asked, looking up at her.
“We’re going to see Colin Scott. Do you remember him?” she asked as they left the playground. Of course, Alex wouldn’t remember Colin, Quinn realized. He hadn’t seen him in years.
“No,” Alex replied. “Are we going to his house?”
“No, his workplace.”
“What’s his job?” Alex asked.
“He’s a pathologist,” Quinn said, sorry she’d started this conversation.
“What’s a pathol—. What’s it again?”
“Pathologist. It’s a kind of doctor. He sees people after they’ve died.”
“I don’t want to go there,” Alex said, his gaze fearful.
“I don’t want to go,” Mia cried from the buggy.
“You two can wait in his office while I speak to him. It won’t take long.”
“Want to go home,” Mia whined. “Watch Trolls.”
“I don’t like Trolls,” Alex protested.
“Trolls are funny.” Mia giggled, and Alex relented.
“Fine, we can watch Trolls,” he grumbled.
Quinn looked at the children and made an executive decision, hailing a passing cab. She’d bill Rhys for the expense. After all, this was work related, and it’d be easier and faster than taking two small children and a buggy on the Tube. The taxi got them to Colin’s mortuary in less than fifteen minutes.
“Bye.” Mia waved to the cabbie, who waved back.
“Bye, darlin’,” he said. “You too, little lad.”
“Bye,” Alex muttered under his breath.
Quinn smiled down at him. “There’s nothing to be frightened of.”
“You said there’d be dead people,” Alex protested.
“I said Colin works with dead people. I didn’t say you’d have
to see any of them.”
“Still.”
“Don’t worry,” Quinn said, using her best soothing mum tone. “You don’t have to come inside.”
Colin came to meet them at the door, his mask hanging around his neck, his hair covered by a surgical cap. “Well, hello there,” he said to the children, who stared at him in horror.
“Colin, do you think Shannon might come out here and mind them while we talk?” Quinn asked. “Alex is frightened, and Mia is upset about having to leave the playground.”
“Of course. Not to worry.”
Colin disappeared down the hall and returned with his assistant, whose purple and pink streaked hair instantly captured Mia’s attention. Alex looked intrigued as well.
“Hi, guys,” Shannon said, looking from one to the other. “Who wants to go for a walk?”
Neither child responded, but Alex shook his head stubbornly and took a firmer hold of Quinn’s hand while Mia crossed her arms.
Shannon looked to Quinn, then tried again. “Who wants to take a walk to the vending machine? I just happen to have some coins in my pocket. Oh, let’s see, enough to buy a bag of M&Ms.”
“I like the red ones,” Alex said.
“I like the green ones myself,” Shannon said. “What color do you like, Mia?”
“Pink.”
“I’m afraid they don’t have pink ones, but I’m sure we can find you something.” She took hold of the buggy and wheeled Mia off down the corridor, Alex walking beside her.
“Well, that was easy,” Colin said as he looked after them. “Come on in.”
The Lost (Echoes from the Past Book 9) Page 6