Sins of Omission

by Irina Shapiro

  “Yes, she did, but I can’t imagine that Sister Angela had much call for rue, being in a convent.”

  “Rue is not just for causing miscarriages, milady,” the doctor replied. “It can be used for other medicinal purposes, but in very small doses and brewed into tea. Frances has taken a large enough dose to abort a colt, not just a child.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Neve said. “Is there anything we can do for her?”

  “Frances is out of danger, but she is very weak. Try to get her to drink as much as possible, and don’t allow her to get out of bed for at least a week. Once she’s back to eating solid foods, I recommend beef and liver, to regenerate the blood she’s lost. If you can get fresh blood from the butcher, mix it with a bit of milk and have her drink it at least once a day.”

  Frances couldn’t see Neve’s face, but she heard the sharp intake of breath at the mention of that particular remedy. Neve didn’t reply, but Hugo assured the doctor that they would do everything necessary. Frances wished that everyone would just leave and let her sleep. She was so tired. Perhaps she’d dream of Gabriel again.

  “I trust there will be no more life-and-death emergencies this week,” the doctor said with sarcasm as he prepared to leave. “Lord Everly, back to bed with you. You are looking rather green around the gills. And you, Lady Everly, have a hearty breakfast today. You need nourishment for your baby. You’ve lost a considerable amount of weight since I saw you last week. I will be back this evening,” he added. “I think I will go home now and have a well-deserved rest.”

  Frances heard the door close as everyone finally left. It was quiet and peaceful, and she drifted off again, thankful to be alive. The sound of a door opening woke her up, but she kept her eyes closed in the hope that whoever it was would just leave her in peace. Sooner or later she would have to face the consequences of her actions, but she simply wasn’t strong enough to deal with Neve’s unconditional forgiveness, Hugo’s condemnation, and Archie’s guilt.

  “Frances, are you awake?” Sabine whispered urgently. “Frances, I know you can hear me. Don’t tell anyone I gave you the rue, or I will be punished. Lord Everly is furious; he’ll have me whipped. Don’t tell anyone, or you’ll be sorry,” Sabine hissed and pinched Frances’s arm.

  I’m sorry already, Frances thought as she drifted away. The last thing she heard was Sabine’s yelp of pain.

  **

  Sabine struggled against Archie as he dragged her out into the corridor. She hadn’t expected him to be standing behind the bed-hangings, unseen, but not out of earshot. He’d heard what she said to Frances, so there was no denying her guilt. Archie clamped a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, and his hand felt like a vise on her arm as he shoved her unceremoniously. Archie removed his hand from her mouth, but continued to drag her until they were downstairs where Archie pushed her into the parlor and closed the door behind them.

  “I knew you’d come.” His voice was quiet, but Sabine shivered with fear at the menace in his tone. “Frances had an accomplice, and it had to be you.”

  “She asked me to help her,” Sabine retorted. “I would have never suggested it.”

  “And how do you know about this remedy?” Archie asked conversationally.

  “I heard the maids talking at Versailles. They said it works every time.”

  “So, you’ve never used it yourself?” Archie demanded.

  “No,” Sabine whispered. She could have lied, but she knew that Archie would see right through her. Frances would believe anything, but Archie wasn’t someone you toyed with, not if you valued your life.

  “Why did you give her so much?”

  “Frances wanted to make sure it worked,” Sabine replied.

  Blaming this on Frances was her only form of defense. Perhaps Archie would only give her a tongue lashing. After all, it’s not as if she’d gotten the stupid girl pregnant, she’d done that all on her own. Frances was so naïve and trusting that she’d never even asked Luke to make sure there were no consequences, and Luke was only too happy to try and ensure a desirable outcome for himself. Why did Archie care for her so much? Sabine raged. Frances was just a silly child, not even a woman.

  Even in her defensive state, Sabine couldn’t help noticing how handsome Archie was with his wide blue eyes and hair the color of burnished copper. She’d warm his bed any day if he asked her, but he only had eyes for that idiot upstairs who had every man eating out of her hand. Even Lord Everly couldn’t resist Frances’s charms. He doted on her as if she were his own daughter, and would probably do no more than scold her gently for what she’d done. Sabine’s own father would have horsewhipped her if she’d come home pregnant and unmarried, but no one would lay a hand on Frances. Instead, they would wait on her hand and foot until she was recovered.

  “Now, you listen to me, you little bitch. You will pack your bag and leave this house immediately. You will not tell anyone you’re going, nor will you get any reference for future employment.”

  Sabine squared her shoulders and glared at Archie defiantly. “You have no authority over me. You did not hire me, so you can’t dismiss me. I only did what Frances asked me to, so don’t you go blaming me. I’m not going anywhere without my wages and a good reference, so do your worst, Archibald Hicks; I’m not afraid of you.” She was afraid, but she’d be damned if she let him see it. She wasn’t leaving this house without what was due to her.

  “My worst?” Archie chuckled bitterly. Was he actually laughing at her? “You don’t want to see me at my worst, my girl.”

  Sabine stood her ground, ready to spar with him, but Archie wasn’t in the mood for arguing. He was upon her in an instant, his hand over her mouth and his arms across her middle as he lifted her off her feet and carried her through the kitchen and to the back door. He kicked the door open with his foot and carried her out into the street where a pile of horseshit lay steaming in the road. Archie tossed her into the dung as if she were rubbish, and rubbed her face in the horseshit until she was gagging. Tears of humiliation streamed down Sabine’s face, and her mouth was full of shit.

  “Come back and I will do much worse than this. Don’t test me, girl,” he said as he held her face down. Archie turned on his heel and strode back into the house, leaving a sobbing Sabine lying in the middle of the road.

  June 1686

  Paris, France

  Chapter 57

  Max found his job as a tutor to be surprisingly flexible. Madame Benoit was only too happy to have the house to herself for a few hours, allowing Max to take the boys on field trips, as long as they returned in time for their dinner. The children loved the outings, during which Max pointed out various sights and taught them the English words and phrases for what they were seeing. They were happy to have a little adventure and leave the stifling schoolroom. Max, on the other hand, used the outings to familiarize himself with seventeenth-century Paris, and mentally file away useful information which would help him formulate his plan. He’d have only once chance to get it right, and this time he wouldn’t be creeping behind Hugo with a rock. This time, nothing would be left to chance.

  Max usually made sure that the boys were falling-down tired by the time they got home, so while the children napped, Max availed himself of the opportunity to study the Everly residence which was a forty-five-minute walk from the Benoit’s house. After a week of observation from a strategically selected vantage point, Max was disappointed to say that he’d learned very little. He’d seen a red-headed young man come and go, as well as several servants, and a boy of about ten, who strongly resembled Hugo. An older man came by once, and left a short while later. Otherwise, there was very little activity of interest. Max hadn’t seen Hugo or Neve, so wasn’t even entirely certain that he was watching the right house. At this rate, he’d still be planning his revenge a year from now.

  Max decided that perhaps he might need to change the location of his stake-out. He walked around the block; his hat pulled down low and his manner unhurried. There was no
need to attract attention. He was just a respectable tutor out for a walk during his free time. Max sauntered around the back of the house. There was a sizeable garden surrounded by a tall iron fence. The garden was lush at this time of year, but Max could still see several benches placed beneath the trellis dripping with roses. A little fountain, more a birdbath, was in the center of the garden, and a path led from the door to the birdbath and to the gate built into the fence. Max gingerly pulled on the gate, but, of course, it was locked. The good thing about the garden was that it wasn’t a typical, well-ordered English garden where the flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges outranked natural chaos. This garden was slightly more unkempt, perhaps because the inhabitants didn’t employ a gardener. Therefore, it was much easier for a person who wanted to observe the family to stay hidden.

  Max pulled out the spyglass he’d borrowed from Captain Benoit’s study. The captain had departed a week before and wouldn’t be home again for several months, so Madame Benoit invited Max to use the captain’s study to work on his lessons, which couldn’t be better if he’d planned it himself. Max trained the glass on the windows of the upper floors, hoping to catch sight of someone in the bedrooms. It was late afternoon, and the slanted rays of the summer sun reflected in the wide windows, making it difficult to make anything out, but Max remained in his position, certain that if he waited, he’d see someone. He’d positioned himself in such a way that he wouldn’t be seen either from the street or from the house, hiding behind a large lilac bush. The blooms had died away, but the leafy branches offered excellent cover.

  Max stepped from foot to foot, tired of standing in one spot. He still hadn’t seen much after skulking about for nearly an hour. It had to be going on six p.m., and he was hungry and tired after spending most of the morning herding the boys around town. He’d give it another fifteen minutes, then call it a day. Max was just about to unlace his breeches to take a piss when he noticed movement in one of the upstairs rooms. He forgot all about his need and pointed the spyglass at the window. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he saw Neve. She approached the window, holding a small child. The baby looked remarkably like her, but Max couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl since it was wearing a white gown, the type that could be worn by either sex. Children in the seventeenth-century were dressed like girls regardless of the sex until they were toilet trained, at which point their clothes resembled that of the adults.

  Neve seemed to be talking to the child as she threw the window open. Max couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the cadence of her voice carried, and he closed his eyes as he listened to her familiar voice. It was strange to see Neve after all this time, especially with her hair swept up and wearing a period gown, but she actually looked even more beautiful than she had when wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater, with her hair loose about her shoulders. The gown and hairstyle gave her a certain maturity, but did little to hide her natural sensuality.

  Neve turned away from the window and Max lost sight of her, but it took him a few minutes to slow down his heart. He finally relieved himself, put away his spyglass, and drifted back out into the street. He now knew several things: he had the right house; the baby was thriving, and Hugo had to be somewhere nearby. What he didn’t know was why he hadn’t seen Hugo or Neve leave the house, or how to go about achieving his objective. Perhaps he had to watch the house in the morning rather than in late afternoons. Perhaps they liked to rest before supper, and that’s why he’d been unable to make any progress.

  Switching up the schedule with Madame Benoit would be easy enough. She was a remarkably flexible woman, probably due to the fact that she’d had to get used to living with a husband who always came and went, rather than stayed at home and ruled the roost. She liked the freedom to make her own choices, and having the boys out of the house in the late afternoon would give her an opportunity to rest after her morning chores and social calls. There weren’t many, but Vivienne had a couple of friends who came by for a cup of chocolate, a pastry, and a gossip. They were all wives of the captain’s associates, so they had much to talk about, and Max heard them laughing through the closed door of the parlor. At times, he envied their camaraderie. He missed having friends. He missed Simon, and even Mrs. Harding. She’d often given him a cup of tea and a biscuit when he was a boy, and talked him through his adolescent trials when his own mother couldn’t be bothered. It’d been a long time since anyone cared about him, and Max felt a bone-deep loneliness steal over him, especially at night when he was alone in his room.

  Max decided to watch the house several times a week, and his initiative eventually paid off. He watched with trepidation as Neve emerged into the garden with the baby each morning. The child seemed to be ready for a mid-morning nap, so Neve positioned the baby in her lap while she enjoyed an hour outdoors. Sometimes she read, and sometimes she just sat quietly, her face turned to the gentle sun. Although her features were relaxed, Max noted a tension about her which hadn’t been there before. Neve was no longer the young woman he’d known in the twenty-first century. There was a certain wariness about her, as if she’d been through a lot, and was now preparing herself for some unseen danger. Was life with Hugo not quite what she’d bargained for? Max wondered as he watched her.

  A young woman joined her outside on the second day, her golden curls framing her lovely face, which despite its classical beauty looked wan. The girl sat next to Neve, and they chatted quietly, so as not to wake the baby. The girl must have recently been ill since she moved a little slower than normal and was terribly pale. The red-headed man made an appearance as well, smiling at the girl in a way that suggested that their relationship was something more than lady/servant, or just friendship. She rested her head on his shoulder as he sat down next to her, and his arm came around her, loosely, but with a hint of possession, nonetheless. But where was Hugo? Was it possible that he wasn’t here at all?

  It had taken Max three more days of observation before he finally spotted his prey. Hugo came out into the garden with Neve and sat on the bench. He reached for the child, and Neve carefully placed the baby into the crook of his arm. Max was shocked by Hugo’s appearance. This was not the man he’d met a year ago. That Hugo had exuded physical strength and robust health, but the Hugo who sat in the garden now looked pale and drawn, and his movements were careful, as if any sudden jolt would cause him great pain. Max trained his spyglass on the man and watched him with rapt attention. Hugo seemed in good spirits despite his physical discomfort, and Max could see the genuine affection between him and Neve. She did seem to be fussing over him though, which made Max wonder if Hugo had been ill as well. Perhaps there’d been an outbreak of something in the house, which would explain the lack of activity and the less-than-blooming appearance of the occupants. Max turned the glass back to Neve. She appeared to be well enough, but she looked tired, and there was a constant look of worry in her lovely eyes. What had happened to make her look so concerned, and what was wrong with Hugo?

  Max kept up his vigil for two weeks, familiarizing himself with the routine of the household. The one thing that remained constant was Neve’s outings with the baby. Hugo came outside from time to time, as did the other girl, but Neve made an appearance around the same time every day. Max couldn’t help noticing that both Hugo and the girl appeared to be recuperating from whatever it was they’d suffered from. Hugo was moving with more assurance, and his color was healthier than it had been two weeks ago. He was still mindful of his left side, but he was obviously on the mend, which meant that Max had to act soon. He didn’t want Hugo at the top of his game.

  Max returned to his stuffy garret, threw open the dormer window and took a sip of warm red wine. He’d been biding his time long enough. It was time to put his plan into action. Strange how sometimes small, insignificant things suddenly took on new meaning based on the events currently taking place in a person’s life. Max had hated visiting the Paris catacombs with his friends when he took a backpacking tour of France shortly after gradua
ting from the university. He’d tried to opt out of that particular excursion, but his friends ridiculed him for being scared, and to prove them wrong, Max had reluctantly gone along. He’d hated every moment of being submerged beneath the ground, surrounded by millions of dead eyes, boring into him as he tried not to focus on the fact that these people had once lived, loved, and suffered. The catacombs had been the ultimate oubliette, a place of forgetting, but had eventually become a tourist attraction since people couldn’t stay away from the haunting experience of walking through a graveyard of bones and skulls.

  Now, in the seventeenth century, the catacombs were not yet a graveyard, but a series of abandoned mines used to extract limestone which had been used to build most of the city; a warren of tunnels which would soon be ordered to be inspected for fear that they might undermine the city above them. No matter, the mines were as good as the catacombs. All Max needed was a secluded, dark place to carry out his plan. He hadn’t taken the children beneath ground, but he’d made sure to take several walks in the vicinity of what would one day be the entrance to the Catacombs de Paris and find a way in. Most of the mines had been closed off, but Max eventually found one that would serve his purpose very nicely. He marked it on a crude map he’d drawn, and mapped out the quickest route from the Everly house to the entrance of the mine.

  Max paced the floorboards until they groaned with protest, so he stretched out on his bed, put his hands behind his head, and went over every detail of his plan again. He needed two days to get everything in order, then it was show time.

  Chapter 58

  I breathed a sigh of relief as Valentine finally fell asleep. She’d been crying on and off all night, and this morning I’d noticed that her gums were swollen, and two tiny white lines had appeared where her bottom teeth would be. I thought it was too early for her to be teething, but some children cut their first teeth sooner than others. I wished I could give her something to relieve the pain, but I had nothing at my disposal save alcohol, and I wasn’t going that route just yet.