Sins of Omission

by Irina Shapiro

  “Yes, you did. You wanted someone to practice on, someone to use. I couldn’t do that, Frances. If I’d allowed myself to touch you, I’d wanted to claim you for my own, and it wasn’t me you wanted. You wanted to be ready for the likes of Luke,” Archie retorted.

  “You daft fool,” Frances cried, overcome by his inability to see what she’d really been offering. “I came to you because you are the only one I trust, and you are the only one I care about. You rejected me; you humiliated me, and you took away my hope. And now I’m carrying another man’s child, and everything is ruined.”

  Frances fled from the stables, tears streaming down her face as she ran toward the garden. She just wanted to be alone, to lick her wounds, and rage at the utter stupidity of the situation. This was just like the Greek mythology that Hugo was so fond of teaching to her and Jem, where Gods sat atop Mount Olympus and played with the fates of man for their own amusement. Well, she hoped the Gods were amused, because there was no way out of this situation. She could marry Luke and go to Constantinople with him. Luke would be happy, and her child would have a father, but she would be miserable yet again, married to a man she didn’t love and torn from the only family she knew. She could stay here, try to work things out with Archie, and expect him to raise another man’s child, which is not something she had any right to ask of him, even if he was up for it. Or, she could just have the baby alone, and pretend she was a widow once they returned to England, in the hope that perhaps one day she might meet someone who loved her for who she was, and not give a toss about her past transgressions.

  Frances fought back as Archie caught up with her and pulled her into his arms.

  “Leave me alone,” Frances cried. “There’s nothing more to say. I will tell Lord Everly that you lied to protect me. There’s no need for him to be angry with you. I will handle this on my own, as I always have.”

  “Franny, I meant it; I will marry you tomorrow, and I will be a father to your baby. I will love it as my own and never, ever hold its paternity against you. I was too blind to see what you were feeling, and I’ve made a mess of things, but I will do anything it takes to fix it between us. Will you let me?”

  Frances shook her head against his chest. “Oh, Archie, it’s too late. This is no way to enter into a marriage. This is all wrong. We are all wrong.” She wrenched herself away from him and ran into the house, leaving Archie to stand in the middle of the garden looking hurt and confused.

  June 1686

  Aboard the La Belle

  Chapter 44

  The day was warm but overcast, the sun hiding behind thick clouds as the La Belle finally came within view of land. Max stood on deck watching the distant shore grow closer, his heart thumping against his ribs. He thought he’d be thrilled to see Europe again, but all he felt was apprehension. What was he to do now? He had no money, no friends, and no skills which would enable him to make enough to live on while saving for his passage back to England. Had this been the twenty-first century, he’d just whip out a credit card and get on the first flight to London, but here, he needed real coin, earned by real labor. Max’s ordeal was far from over.

  Banjo stood next to Max, perched on a coil of rope that enabled him to see over the rail. “Is that it? Is that France?” he asked.

  His voice was small and filled with dread. The fun of the voyage was nearly over, and he would go to his new life, to new masters who might, or might not, be kind to him. No matter how frightened Max was at the prospect of being on his own, he knew that Banjo was far more scared. Max couldn’t imagine being five years old and already alone in a world of strangers, dependent entirely on their goodwill and compassion. Banjo was being awfully brave. Had this been a five-year-old Max, he would have cried and hid away somewhere on the ship, in the hope that the crew would take him along on their next voyage.

  “Will you be coming with me to Paris, massa?” Banjo asked, his voice full of hope.

  “Yes, I will go with you as far as Paris, but then you will go on to your new home,” Max replied, moderating his tone to sound encouraging. The child didn’t need to feel his apprehension; he was scared enough already.

  “Will you go to yours?” Banjo asked. “Can I come and visit you?”

  “In time, but first I will spend some time in France,” Max replied uncertainly.

  “Will you come and see me?” Banjo asked.

  “I don’t think I will be welcome, Banjo, but I will look out for you. Maybe I will see you one day, riding in a fine carriage, dressed in silks and velvets, and smiling with contentment.” Max felt a catch in this throat, but attributed it to the dampness in the air. He laid his hand on Banjo’s head, and the boy leaned against him. They stood like that for a few minutes until Captain Benoit came upon them on his way to the bridge.

  “Run along, Banjo,” he said kindly, and gave the boy a slight shove in the direction of the quartermaster who was waving for him to come up on the bridge. Banjo’s mood instantly lifted, and he ran along, eager for a turn at the wheel. It would be his last time, so he wanted to make the most of it.

  “So, how does it feel, milord?” the captain asked with a sly smile. “You are about to disembark as a free man.”

  “Yes, a free man with no money, no contacts, and no home to go back to,” Max replied, suddenly feeling sorry for himself. Where was he to go once he got off the ship? Perhaps he could get some work on the docks, loading and unloading vessels, and get a room in one of the shorefront taverns. They were bound to be cheaper than anything in the center of town since they catered to sailors and stevedores.

  “I’ve been considering what you said a few days ago,” the captain began, his eyes fixed on some distant point on shore. “The dynamics of trade are changing now that the American Colonies are a player, so perhaps learning English could benefit me in my trade.”

  “But you already speak English,” Max replied.

  “My English is not very good, but it serves my purposes,” the captain agreed. “However, I have two boys, aged seven and eleven. I hope they will join me one day. I fancy having a fleet of ships at my disposal,” the captain confided with a wistful smile. “It would serve my boys well to know English, especially if it will be the language of commerce, as you so eloquently stated.” The captain chuckled at such a fanciful notion before continuing.

  “I will offer you a position in my household. You will have room and board, and a modest wage, which will go a long way toward paying for your passage home. You can tutor my boys in English, mathematics and astronomy. They will need to learn to navigate once they go to sea,” the captain elaborated as if Max might wonder why children would need to learn those subjects.

  “I must admit that I find philosophy, Latin, and Greek to be something of a waste of time in my line of work. The only time a captain gets truly philosophical is when there’s a chance of his ship going down, and the oaths that pour from his mouth are rarely in Greek. So, let’s give it a few months and see how things progress. What do you say, milord?”

  “Do you live in Le Havre?” Max asked, suddenly dismayed. He needed to be in Paris where the Everlys were, but he supposed staying in Le Havre for a few months would not make too much of a difference. He needed to have some money before he undertook any decision.

  “My wife hates Le Havre,” Captain Benoit snorted. “She says it’s dingy, ugly, and utterly devoid of culture. My family lives in Paris. It’s not a very fashionable neighborhood, but we have a comfortable house and several servants. I think you’ll find it to your liking. And, you will be close enough to visit family,” he added with a touch of sarcasm.

  “I accept with pleasure,” Max said as he held out his hand to the captain. “I just hope your wife doesn’t object.”

  “My wife does what I tell her to,” the captain replied, surprised that Max would even worry about his wife’s reaction. But then again, the man wasn’t married, so he wouldn’t understand a wife’s devotion and obedience.

  “I’m expected on the bridge,
” the captain said as he turned to walk away. “We’ll speak more later on, over supper at the tavern. They do a fine oyster stew, and their claret is not half bad. Don’t worry, mon ami, supper is on me. You can pay me back by being good to my boys.”

  Max stared at the fast-approaching shoreline as a slow smile spread across his lean face. He’d suffered greatly over the past eight months, but things were finally looking up. The stars were aligning at last, and he would make the most of his newfound fortune. A roof over his head, meals, and proximity to Hugo and his family were all he needed.

  June 1686

  Paris, France

  Chapter 45

  “You are a silly, silly girl,” Sabine said as she surveyed Frances, hands on her hips. “Why did you not tell me right away? I would have helped you avoid all this -– she waved her hand in the air while searching for the right word -– drama.”

  “And how would you have done that?” Frances asked, irritated by Sabine’s attitude of superiority. What right did she have to scold her like this? She was only a maid, for God’s sake, not a member of the family. Frances was too tired to even care. Her world was falling apart once again, and she just couldn’t bear to deal with the consequences of her own foolishness. If she had never succumbed to Luke’s caresses, she wouldn’t be in this predicament. But then, she also wouldn’t know how Archie truly felt about her. What a mess this was turning out to be.

  “I have gotten with child twice,” Sabine confided in a low voice, although they were quite alone. “I have taken care of the problem, and no one was the wiser.”

  “How?” Frances asked, intrigued. Sabine was a wealth of information when she wanted to be, so Frances swallowed her irritation and gave Sabine all her attention.

  “Frances, you really are a babe in arms, you know that?”

  “Yes, I suppose I am. I know there are ways of avoiding unwanted pregnancy, but I have no idea what they are.”

  “Well, you might have asked before you tumbled into bed with Luke Marsden. Besides, considering that you are not married or even betrothed, he might have used his wits and taken care of things himself,” Sabine fumed as she paced the room.

  “Is it up to the man then?” Frances asked innocently. No wonder Archie never got anyone with child. He clearly had more “wits” than Luke.

  “For the most part, yes. There are some decoctions women can take, but they are not always reliable. If the man loves you, he will take measures to protect you,” Sabine droned on. “He can greatly reduce the risk of pregnancy by pulling out just before he finishes, but most of them are too damn selfish to want to interrupt their pleasure, which brings us back to the problem at hand.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” Frances mumbled to herself, wishing she was anywhere but here, anything but pregnant.

  “There are ways to get rid of an unwanted child, especially early on in the pregnancy. How far along are you?”

  “About a month,” Frances replied miserably.

  “Do you want it or not?”

  “I haven’t really figured that out yet.”

  “Well, do, and when you decide, let me know.” With that, Sabine left the room, carrying a pile of dirty linens, her head held high as if she were a noble lady and not a lady’s maid. Frances really did like her spirit and wished that she had half the fire the older girl had.

  She climbed into bed and hugged her knees to her chest. She’d told Sabine the truth; she wasn’t sure if she wanted the baby or not. Gabriel’s death left a gaping hole in her heart, and she thought that having another baby might fill it, at least partially, but she didn’t want to have a baby by a man she didn’t love. And she didn’t love Luke; she knew that now. She liked him very much, but what she felt for him wasn’t love. The idea of Luke leaving took her by surprise, but caused her no great emotional upheaval. She said goodbye to him only a few days ago, but already he felt like a distant memory, a pleasant dream that had dissipated with the coming of dawn. Perhaps she should feel guilty for allowing him such liberties, but after Lionel, she felt she deserved a little bit of affection. And now that affection had led to another baby, a baby she didn’t really want. Of course, she hadn’t wanted Lionel’s baby either, but she loved Gabriel fiercely once he was born.

  Frances closed her eyes and tried to imagine Luke’s child. It would be a beautiful baby, of that she was sure, maybe another boy, but the imaginary child in her arms had red hair and bright blue eyes. That was the child of her heart -– Archie’s child. Yes, she wanted another baby, but not this one. She wanted to marry Archie, if he’d still have her, but not while carrying another man’s child. Archie said that he would never hold it against her, but in time he would, especially if the child were a boy and looked like Luke. Archie was only human, after all, and a constant reminder of his wife’s liaison with another man would haunt him day and night. Archie might have an easier time adjusting to a girl, but it’s not as if she could choose. It was a gamble, one she wasn’t too eager to take.

  Oh, what she wouldn’t give for a miscarriage. Frances leaped off the bed as a wave of nausea assaulted her, and she retched into the chamber pot. Her insides were churning, and so was her mind. Frances angrily pushed the pot under the bed and crawled under the covers, pulling the blanket over her head. There was no one in the room, but she still felt ashamed of her tears.

  Chapter 46

  Hugo rose early, unable to sleep after the scene with Frances the day before. Neve was still asleep, her face shadowed in the confines of the great bed. She looked remarkably peaceful, enjoying the well-deserved sleep of one who’s often woken during the night. Valentine was sleeping for longer stretches now, but she still woke up for a feeding at least once a night. Hugo gazed adoringly at the baby before pulling on his clothes and letting himself quietly out of the room. He needed some air, and the May morning was too fine not to take advantage of. Had he been in Surrey, he would have gone for a gallop through the countryside, but Paris was no place to go galloping. He would have to either ride in the Jardin de Tuileries, which wasn’t open enough for what he had in mind, or go beyond city limits toward Fontainebleau. A brisk walk would have to do.

  “Where are you going, my lord?” Jem asked. He was sitting on the bottom step, munching on a freshly baked roll smeared liberally with butter and honey. His face was sticky, and he was licking his fingers with grim determination. Jem was normally the happiest when he was eating, but this morning he looked forlorn and dejected, his eyes veiled with sadness.

  “Why are you sitting here, Jemmy?” Hugo asked as he lowered himself next to Jem and accepted the bite of roll which Jem generously offered.

  “Cook threw me out of the kitchen. Said I’m always underfoot. I just like watching her make things. Is that so wrong?”

  “Do you have aspirations of becoming a great chef?” Hugo asked with a chuckle. Jemmy’s love of food could be the path to a lifelong career.

  “No, I just like to watch. And eat,” Jem confided. “And there’s other stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?” Jem offered Hugo another bite, but he politely waved the roll away, not wanting to take it away from the boy.

  “No one is ever happy anymore,” Jem grumbled. “Frances is in her room crying her eyes out; Archie looks like he’d like to punch someone, and you and Lady Everly are always busy with the baby and going off to Court. No one wants me around,” Jem said, his eyes filling with tears. “Where are you going anyway?” Jem asked.

  “I thought I’d take a walk by the river. I need some air, and the women in this house are driving me insane,” Hugo replied, lowering his voice to a confidential whisper.

  “I know just how you feel,” Jem replied, licking the last of the honey from his fingers. “Can I come with you? I can use a break from the women too.”

  “Of course you can. We need man time. Why don’t you bring some stale bread and you can feed the birds, if you like.”

  “Should we invite Archie? I think he’s borderline crazy too,” Jem offered
.

  “Normally, I would invite Archie, but at the moment he’s contributing to my bout of insanity, so let’s leave him at home, shall we?”

  “All right,” Jem conceded. “Can I have a cup of chocolate after our walk? In that café I like?”

  “Of course. And a pastry. It wouldn’t be a proper walk without stopping for a treat afterward.”

  “Frances will be so jealous,” Jem whispered happily, his good humor restored.

  Jem bounced happily off the step and ran along to get his hat and coat by way of the kitchen. Hugo heard Cook berating him in rapid French as he grabbed some bread for the birds and returned to the foyer ready to go. Hugo couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sadness as he remembered that he might be parted from the boy in the coming months. He hadn’t said anything to Jem, but eventually Nicholas would either write or come in person, at which point Jem would find out the truth. Hugo sighed and followed Jem out the door.

  The morning was too fine to remain in low spirits. The sun warmed their shoulders and sparkled on the water, making the Seine glow like a ribbon of silver. Cotton-ball clouds dotted the azure sky, and the smell of the river, cut grass, and freshly baked bread permeated the air. Several fancy carriages rolled by, taking their occupants home after a long night of debauchery, and wagons rumbled down the streets, delivering fresh milk and produce to taverns and shops.

  Before long, Hugo and Jem were watching boats on the river, feeding the ever-hungry birds, and eating hot crepes bought from an old woman who made them right on the banks of the Seine, and chatting like magpies. Jem was happy to have Hugo’s undivided attention, something that had been in short supply over the past months. Hugo wondered if he should tell Jemmy the truth of his paternity, but decided to wait. Jem was so happy just being with him that he felt a piercing stab of guilt at not paying more attention to the boy. He was just a child; he couldn’t understand the complexities of Hugo’s situation, or the all-consuming needs of a baby. Normally, Archie stepped in when Hugo was unavailable, but Archie had his own troubles of late, if Frances’s pregnancy was anything to go by. Decisions would need to be made, but for now, Hugo just wanted to enjoy Jem’s company.