by Wendy Reakes
She used the same back stairs she had used before. Without any daunting episode, other than the fear of getting collared, she arrived at the bottom to the little place next to the kitchen where she had once entered without invitation. She could see the glass wall cabinet as she descended the final wooden steps, and when she walked towards it, she prayed it wouldn’t be locked.
The silence was stifling but it was a great comfort to Marley. She thought about Rain, asleep upstairs in her attic parlour, alone, and she prayed she wouldn’t wake to find her gone. Rain had remarkable instincts for a child so young.
She took hold of the little lever on the front of the cabinet and turned it towards her. The glass door opened silently, and she relieved. She rummaged through the many hooks, and at the far end, tucked into a corner, was a bunch of three large keys. She read the tag. Outside stores. What fortune. What marvellous fortune! Celia would be very happy to know she had acquired the little beggars.
From a pocket she’d sewn inside her dress, she took the key which uncle had made for the back door. Now she needed to go outside and she hadn’t gone outside for near on a year.
The air she breathed when she stepped through that door was different to the air she breathed up in the rafters. Up there, the air was heavy in the dusty confines of the attic, but outside, on her roof terrace, and now outside the house on the ground, thankfully, the air was fresh and breathable.
The night was black and formidable; visibility low. Only a small glow from the moon offered her a light to guide her along the side of the house and across the courtyard. Before she reached the stables, she wondered if the horses would snort and neigh as her presence agitated them. She soon saw the horses were gone and the stables empty. Then she remembered Celia telling her the livestock got taken to another place when the family were away, except for one horse, used by old Porter to pull his cart. She was glad of it. She might have bolted herself if she had heard them neighing with fright as she sneaked about in the dark of night.
She spotted the store straight away. Celia had pencilled her a little map in her journal, so she knew exactly where to find it. She looked across the courtyard to a small building with a single window and a door. That was old Porter’s lodgings and his office where he paid the accounts to the tradesmen. All the details she’d acquired from her darling Celia.
She could see no light shining from Porter’s building, so it was now or never. She pinned herself up against the door and pushed the key gently into the rusty lock. When it turned, the mechanism clicked so loudly, she thought she had surely woken the dead. She was about to slip inside, when a beam of light fell across the courtyard. Porter had been stirred by her presence and now she was cursing herself for being so inept. She knew immediately that her chance to take the boots had been thwarted. Her only fear now was being discovered before she had a chance to get back to the attic where her baby slept.
Suddenly, as she slinked into the darkness, she heard the door to Porter’s lodgings open. Then a shot rang out and she felt a pain that urged her to fall to oblivion.
The measure of time was lost to her. She couldn’t think straight. She was in pain, but she could only think about Rain, fearing her waking to the empty attic where her mama was nowhere to be seen. She pinned her hand against the side of her thigh where she could feel wetness soaking her frock. She managed to slip inside the door again and she quickly locked it behind her. She fell against the wall next to the coat stand, the one she had once pulled down to shelter her that terrible night when she’d lost her shoes.
Then she bounced off the wall, knowing that if she rested, she would surely collapse into a deathly heap.
Marley kept going, not hearing any noise other than the faint sound of a dog barking. As she laboriously climbed all the stairs to the top floor, she kept wondering if the dog and the groundsman would follow and discover her in the house they steadfastly protected.
Finally, she reached the attic door. She staggered up the stairs as best she could, leaning onto anything she could find. Her sight was impaired by waves floating across them and her ears pounded with the sound of her own heartbeat. The only light she had to go by was moonlight filtering through a shutter somewhere, along with her natural ability to see quite well in the dark since that was what she did a lot of now. She closed the door as her face became distorted with the pain surging though her leg. She had been shot. She was sure of it. Oh god. She was going to die.
She travelled skilfully, using her staunch wits to drive her forward, through the forest of furniture and back to her safe parlour. A tiny candle burned near the bed allowing her, through blurred vision, to see Rain still asleep, safe and sound swaddled by William’s baby blanket.
Suddenly, she had nothing left to give. Her exhaustion had overtaken her desire to survive. She had no more energy or willpower to get up onto the bed and to lie next to her baby. She was collapsing to the floor. She was going to die, and she wouldn’t be found, nor her dearest helpless Rain, until Celia returned in two months’ time.
Chapter 20
Porter looked in wonder at the girl lying on the bed. He’d just picked her up from the floor and placed her upon it next to a sleeping baby. A baby! He couldn’t make head or tale of it all. He was surely dreaming.
Only minutes before, when he’d heard a growl coming from Ace’s throat, he’d awoken and known instantly there had been an intruder outside. He’d pulled on his leg, already encased in a boot and a pair of working britches and grabbing his shot gun before he opened the door. He could see nothing in the dark, except for the outline of the buildings on the back of the house across the courtyard. But as he detected a movement and Ace had rushed past him to chase whoever or whatever was out there, he’d raised his gun when he saw a figure moving in the dark. He pulled the trigger. When he reached the entrance at the back of the house, Ace was pacing and growling at the locked door. The door was locked which was a mystery indeed, since he was sure the intruder had gone through it. He’d double backed, told Ace to stay and then he’d paced with only the hint of a limp, back to his lodgings across the way. He’d grabbed the keys from a hook inside the door and ran back to where his dog was sitting obediently and barking as if he would never stop.
Porter had turned the key and let himself inside. He was carrying a lantern he had taken from his room, so he immediately spotted the blood on the floor. Noe of it made sense. He shushed Ace and the dog walked at his side as he went tentatively up the stairs to the main house. The blood led the way, like a trail of red crumbs. When he came to the attic door he turned the handle. It opened. He stepped inside and shone the lantern higher above his head. He instructed Ace to wait as he went inside.
The attic was packed with old furniture. The master had steadfastly not allowed him to clear it out, since his father’s belongings were stored up there.
Next to an old dresser, between a screen and rolled up rug, blood led the way along a path between the furniture. “Come out,” he said with his voice raised. “I know you’re in here. Come out whoever you are.”
When no one appeared, he carried on along the path. He could see a faint glow of light up ahead in the far end where those old glass doors led to a terrace on the roof, to those damn pigeons who turned the stone black on the side of the house. Keeping his wits about him, he came to a beam running along the floor, dividing the far end of the attic from the rest. He stepped over it and walked into someone’s parlour.
There, on the floor was a girl, and on the bed, a baby, sound asleep, wrapped in a white woollen shawl.
Chapter 21
When she opened her eyes to a new day, she did what she always did when she woke each morning, she turned her head to look at Rain. A pain shot up the side of her body as if she had been lashed with a whip. And then she remembered. She had been shot. Oh God. When she focused her eyes, to see her baby, Rain had gone.
She was desperate to scream when the pain stabbed through her leg, but she knew she could not. She had to stay
still and silent for fear of being discovered. The pain curdled her blood as if she was boiling in acid and her head…that was thumping like the beat of a worn-out drum.
So, she slept.
Marley was running in the field near uncle’s house, being chased by the black-haired lout, but then she turned she saw Brent, her brother, holding a baby as he sprinted after her, calling her name, over and over again. She fell, and God sent a bolt of lightning to burn the side of her leg. But it wasn’t God. It was uncle carrying a whip, laughing as he tore her skin, making her stumble and fall. She fell into a fast running stream where uncle hailed stones at her as she tried to swim as fast as she could. Now, she was drowning. In the reeds beneath the river bed was a cradle where Rain cried with no sound coming from her open mouth, just bubbles.
Blackness.
She awoke, and her sheets were sodden. It was surely raining inside the attic. She should stay dry. How could she help her baby if she was wet? She caught a glimpse of a man, maybe the black-haired lout. She screamed, and he pinned her down and he was touching her. Oh, God not again. Not again.
So, she slept.
She could see a candle burning at the side of the bed. She felt weak, unable to lift her own weight. “Rain,” she croaked “Rain?”
A face appeared before her. A man.
She screamed and thrashed her arms, but he was too strong for her. He placed his hands on her shoulder and held her down.
She screamed again.
“Marley,” he said. “Marley isn’t it?”
She stopped her thrashing and listened to his calming voice. A gentle voice, soothing her, despite her fear. “Rain?” she cried. “My baby.”
“She’s safe. She’s sleeping there, you see?” the voice said.
His face was strong and handsome, and his smile told her he was a gentle man. She followed his gaze to a wooden cradle, where inside, her beautiful baby slept peacefully, covered in William’s white woollen blanket.
“Who are you?” she asked sullenly, knowing her time was up. She had been discovered. She would be thrown in gaol. Oh, God. What about the baby?
“I’m Porter.”
She put her hand on her head, feeling her hair. She couldn’t unravel her thoughts. She couldn’t remember…Then she remembered. She had been shot, shot in the black of night. She reached down where her leg was throbbing. My leg…my thigh…what of it?
He read her thoughts. “I’m afraid it was I who shot you,” he whispered. “My remorse allows me no sleep.” He sighed. “Still, I have cleaned the wounds. I took out six pellets from the side of your upper leg. There is no infection, so I think you will recover very well.”
She could feel her body relax. Her muscles were uncoiling as his voice with a Somerset twang pleased her.
“How did you come to be here, Marley?”
She looked at the shadows of her dark attic. It was night time with just a single candle illuminating the cosiness of her parlour.
“I had a key.”
Porter told her she had been unconscious for three days.
“You know, everyone thinks you are dead, Marley,” he said.
“Yes, I know. Celia told me.”
“Miss Celia?”
She recoiled. Oh, now she had exposed her dearest friend. Now, she would be sacked for such a deception. Perhaps even her mother too. What a wretch she was. “Please, I forced her to help me. I outwitted her and blackmailed her. She is innocent of my terrible crimes.”
He was frowning, curious about how a girl such as she could live so long in an attic with a baby.
“You shouldn’t worry, Marley. I won’t give you away. I have secrets of my own, you know.”
She knew what he meant, but she didn’t tell him so. “You mean, I can stay. You won’t bring the constable?”
“There’ll be no constables brought here, miss. But I can’t let you stay.”
She tried lifting herself from the mattress, but he was too weak to move. “I have nowhere to go,” she said as tears welled up in her eyes. What a self-serving wretch she had become.
“I will find you a place. You must leave it to me.”
He pulled the sheet across her body and forced her to lie down. “Try and sleep now and we’ll talk later.”
“The baby!”
He went to the cradle and lifted up Rain. She looked so tiny in his strong arms. He placed her on the bed next to Marley as she watched her pretty lips closed in silent sleep.
“She is mute,” he said. A statement, not a question.
She blinked the sadness from her eyes.
He leaned across her and stroked Rain’s head with his large hands. “I will return in an hour. I have chores to do.”
As he rose from the bed to leave, a thought struck her. “Mr Porter, how did you feed Rain?”
He seemed awkward when he looked back and his gaze fell to her breasts.
Then she blushed she had never blushed before.
She awoke to the morning light. Rain was in her cradle thrashing her arms and kicking her feet. She pulled herself up and placed her legs over the side of the bed, but when she put her weight onto them, she fell in a heap to the floor. Just at that moment, Porter came into the attic parlour. He rushed to lift her up as if she was weightless and then placed her gently back onto the bed. Their faces were so close, their eyes locked as if a bond had been made and would never break.
Tearing away that look in his eyes, he said “You won’t be able to put weight on your leg for a few more days. I should have told you. Let me look at your wounds.”
She gasped at the thought of him seeing her naked leg, but her modesty gave way to the realisation he’d seen it many times, and other parts too. She allowed him to lift the bottom of her nightgown when she suddenly realised it didn’t belong to her. She tugged at the sleeves edged with fine lace. “Where did you get this?”
He was unwrapping gauze from her thigh, going between her legs as she protected her modesty as much as she was able. “You were bleeding badly. I didn’t want to risk using anything from the attic, in case it was unclean. I went to the mistress’s chamber and took some nightgowns from her closet.”
She gasped. “Now, I truly will be thrown in gaol,” she said.
“No, Marley. I’ll fix it, so you mustn’t worry.”
“But…” then she saw her wounds for the first time. The whole side of her leg, from her hip to her knee was coloured blue with tiny round wounds peppering the skin. They were bright red with no sign of infection.
“The only way to fight infection is to use clean bandages. I found that out during my time in the Boar War when I watched men having their limbs amputated and dying in the process.” He worked as he spoke, dabbing her skin with gauze dipped into a bowl of warm water gone milky white with Dettol. “I was fortunate to meet a doctor who taught me to clean my own wounds. He was a brilliant surgeon. He saved my life.”
Porter took a large roll of bandages he’d made from torn up linen. “These have been sterilised,” he said. “I wash and change your bandages twice a day.”
She wanted to reach out her hand to thank him, but since he was working the layers around her thighs and between her legs, a touch would have been too intimate. Instead she just said it. “Thank you.”
He shook his head. “Just repairing the damage I’d caused.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Mr Porter.”
“What were you doing out there? I found the store unlocked with the key still in it.”
Marley nodded. She couldn’t recall how she had left the store. She’d just panicked. “I was looking for a pair of boots.”
“Why?”
“I was going to leave. I needed them.” Quickly, she added. “But, I would have returned them, as soon as I was settled.”
He smiled. “Once, last winter, when I’d looked up to the top of the house after I heard the sound of pigeons scattering from the terrace up here, I noticed part of the roof was showing its tiles when the rest was covered in sn
ow.”
She didn’t understand him.
“It must have been the heat you were generating from the attic. The snow wouldn’t settle. I was about to come up and investigate when I got called away and I forgot about it after that.” He finished wrapping her leg and tied two ends of the bandages together to form a neat knot. “I wish I had investigated. I could have saved you months of having to live here in these conditions.”
“But I was comfortable, honestly, I was, Mr Porter. I had Celia, the most precious of friends.”
“What happened to you, Marley?” He pulled down her nightgown and smoothed the sheet over her body. He was a gentle man. Not like the black-haired lout.
She came right out and said it. Now wasn’t the time to be secretive. “I was molested.”
He closed his eyes and shook his head. He looked at Rain as Marley reddened with embarrassment. “I see.”
“Do you?”
“I heard the last time anyone saw you was at the village fair. It was said you’d fallen in the river Mells and drowned, but a lot of people didn’t believe it.”
She blinked as the memory of that night intruded her thoughts. “You were there.”
“What?”
“You went past us on your horse. You didn’t stop.”
He shook his head trying to remember. Then he said. “I thought you were both drunk from the fair. You were staggering over the road…”
“Yes, I was trying to help him, but he deceived me.”
“Who was the blaggard?” His cheeks turned red as his anger grew.
“I won’t tell you that,” she said plainly.
“Why not?”
