WHEN FATE STEPS IN
by
SHIRLEY A. ROE
TheEbookSale Publishing
Copyright© 2012 Shirley A. Roe
All rights reserved including rights of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Short sections may be reproduced for review and promotional purposes.
This is work of fiction. Any similarity to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental. All historical facts and historical characters are added purely for the reader’s enjoyment and enlightenment. Any interaction with these characters is purely fiction.
Other books by Shirley A. Roe
Trilogy:
Dreams and Nightmares: The Martha Whittaker Story
The Whittaker Family Reunion
Return to Whittakerville
A Call to Faith and Freedom
Snow Eagle
Now My Life Begins
All available in ebook or print.
Published by:
TheEbookSale Publishing
Limerick, Ireland
First Edition
2012
ISBN: 978-1-84961-148-0
Dedication:
This book is dedicated to Lanee, my serene, calming companion in the herb garden of life. She was the inspiration for this book and I am truly thankful for her friendship.
To my grandchildren: Haley, Erik, John, Angela, Shyanne and Adrina. May you conquer life’s trials and come out shining and strong. May you always feel love and gratitude.
You only have power over people as long as you don’t take everything away from them. But when you’ve robbed a man (or woman) of everything, he’s no longer in your power -- he’s free again. -Alexander Solzhenitsyn, novelist, Nobel laureate (1918-2008)
CONTENT
ChapterOne -1860
ChapterTwo FIFTEEN YEARS EARLIER - 1845 England
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen 1860
ChapterEighteen
Chapter One- 1860
The garden grows wild without tending; how tall the herbs have grown. Oh Lord, I have missed this. The fragrance, the soil, the sun on my face; how glorious it is to be alive. Never again will I take my freedom for granted.
Elana busied herself with the cutting of the tender shoots, placing them in a large willow basket. Carefully she trimmed the rosemary, the aromatic scent filling her nostrils with each cut of the blade. She paused, allowing the fragrance to soothe her. The thorny raspberry canes had grown wild and she moved cautiously to the left avoiding the sharp thorns. Her hands rested for a moment on the warm brown earth connecting to all that is nature. Memories of a cold, lonely cell filled her mind. Suddenly, the smell of mildew and stale urine assaulted her senses and fear gripped her heart. Stop, I will not remember those days. I will not. She looked up to the sky shaking her head as if to empty it of thought. Her fingers lifted the brown earth to her nose and she inhaled the earthy smell of herbs and peat before resuming her chores. Picking up a large stick, she loosened the soil removing any small rocks that appeared from below the hard crust. Crushing an oval mint leaf between her fingers she inhaled the delicate scent of mint and earth. The herbal scents of the garden seemed to permeate her very soul as she toiled lovingly. Kneeling in the garden connecting to the God of nature, she felt humble and peaceful. Basil, thyme, sage and lavender quickly filled her basket as the morning hours drifted away and soon her garden was restored to its former order. She leaned wearily against the cool stonewall, admiring her handiwork. A soil covered hand pushed the long, auburn hair back from her face, leaving dark streaks against the perspiring, alabaster skin. The faint bleating of the sheep could be heard in the distance. I must go and see the new lambs before I go to the cliffs, she thought to herself as she lifted the overflowing basket. Elana made her way down the path to the stone cottage with the thatched roof.
The melodic sound of singing filled her ears as she approached and she stopped to listen. As sweet as the bird’s song are the sounds from your lips; you are happy at last, my sister. Stopping at the well, she slowly turned the crank and watched as the bucket of cold fresh water made its way to the top. Unhooking the wooden vessel, she set it on the ground and washed her hands and face, drying them on her apron. Water splashed on her long wool skirt. She casually brushed the drops away. Two small wrens began to twitter on the rhododendron bush as if joining her sister in song. A smile graced Elana’s face and her eyes sparkled with happiness as she lifted the iron latch on the large oak door. It had been a long time since she had heard any sound of joy from Mary Margaret, a long time indeed.
The inside of the tiny cottage could only be described as spotless. A huge hearth filled the far wall, the flames flickering under a cast iron pot. A colorful tied rag rug lay on the plank floor in front of the fire between two wooden rocking chairs. The aroma of lamb, vegetables and mint filled the small area making it a most welcome setting.
To the left a tall, thin woman with flowing, dark hair, lightly streaked with gray, was setting the long wooden table. She wore a simple, but elegant blue dress and white apron. A starched white linen cloth covered the table. The lace trim had been lovingly repaired in places; the material grew thin with age. The fine china plates were out of place in the tiny cottage, but the gentleness of the hands that placed them on the table, reflected a refinement and grace befitting the elegant dinnerware. The woman turned and smiled at Elana. “I see you have been taking care of that overgrown mess, at long last. We shall add some rosemary to the stew, because it is almost ready.” Elana noticed the far away yearning in the other woman’s face, as she turned back to the table, her fingers caressing the tiny rosebuds on the white china plate just a second longer than necessary. You will never forget those days long ago; he haunts you still my sister.
Many times Elana had been tempted to smash the china into a thousand pieces, seeing them only as a constant reminder of a painful past. But she knew in her heart how important those memories were to Mary Margaret, memories of pain and terror, but also memories of a sweeter time when love filled her heart. No, Elana would never do anything to hurt her sister; they had both experienced enough pain and agony for a lifetime. Wanting to create a distraction, she began discussing her plans for the garden. “I think I shall plant roses next to the path. It will add color and enhance the entrance to the cottage. Yes, yellow roses to brighten our days.” Mary Margaret smiled at her sister. She knew that Elana was trying to distract her and she loved her for it.
“Personally, I prefer pink roses, but plant whatever you like. I take care of the cottage and the garden is your responsibility. Unless of course, you would like to sweep the floor and empty the hearth.” She laughed at the thought of Elana doing anything domestic. How wonderful to have you back in my life, Elana. Her sister’s laughter mingled with hers and the cottage was filled with tinkling joy and a sense of deep and enduring love that only two women who have been to Hell and back can share.
Elana made her way to the cliffs early the next morning. Keeping the promise to herself, she stopped to watch the tiny lambs in the field. Small white balls of fluff leapt and played together. Faint bleating could be heard as their mothers tried to keep some semblance of order.
The carefree lambs ignored them, tumbling and leaping over each other. The scene made her smile. Making her way up the gentle slope, following the narrow path worn by sheep’s hooves, she
arrived at the rocky cliffs. The sun was just beginning to appear over the dark blue sea and an eerie mist covered most of the hills. Illuminated colors dotted the hillside, a symphony of purple, green, brown and yellow, magically mingling with the gray mist. Elana paused to appreciate the beauty of the morning. The bleating of the sheep could be heard in the distance. The gulls swooped and glided on the air currents as their cries blended with the sheep in a strange symphony of nature. Elana sat on the grass near the edge. Her hand moved in the dewy blades of grass beside her. How I miss you Daniel. We would sit here for hours watching the gulls and the fishing boats, planning our life together. Much has happened since that day on the dock when our lips touched for the last time, my darling. Her eyes instinctively searched the horizon for any sign of a ship. I know you will come back to me one day, my love.
Daniel Dryfess had been gone to sea for more than three years. Daniel’s adventuresome spirit drove his desire to explore the world. Signing on as a sailor was his way of fulfilling his dreams. If only he had taken her with him, but of course it had been impossible. Elana understood, but she missed him terribly and wanted him to come home. It had been months since she had a letter from him. Where are you my love?
Chapter Two
FIFTEEN YEARS EARLIER
-1845 England
Doris Madison folded the last of Lady Birmingham’s petticoats carefully. Her ladyship was very particular about her clothes. Doris looked down at her own long gray skirt and white blouse. The uniform was the best garment she owned. Doris was not an envious woman. She knew her lot in life and she was content. Through the window, she could see that the sun was setting. Doris had been working since sunrise. Soon it would be time for her to go home to her cottage and her daughters, Elana and Mary Margaret. At sixty-one on her next birthday, she thought she was getting too old for her job as head housekeeper.
“Are you not finished yet, you lazy woman?” roared Lady Birmingham, who arrived in a flurry of handmaidens. The tall woman was in her forties. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a stark chignon, and she wore a long flowing navy blue skirt. Her blouse had large balloon sleeves and the collar rose high on her neck. Doris turned to look at the three youngsters as they carried a tea tray, a bouquet of flowers and a pile of firewood respectfully. Although none were older than twelve years, each one looked tired and drawn. The girl with the flowers quickly set them on the bedside table and went to fetch water for the vase. The second girl set the tea tray on the small rosewood table beside the large Victorian lounger and the third busied herself starting the fire in the huge fireplace at the end of the room. The room was a flurry of activity. “I asked you a question. Are you deaf woman?” Doris looked at Lady Birmingham. Her ladyship’s face was pinched and thin, her nose pointed. Doris did not like her mistress. After working in this household since she was ten years old, Doris had watched as the generations of Birminghams changed. She was very fond of Lord Birmingham, although his wife was another matter entirely.
“Yes your Ladyship, I am finished now. Excuse me please.” Doris curtsied and backed out of the room. Her ladyship continued to snap orders.
“You girl, I want my tea with lemon. How long have you worked here? Go and get me some lemon immediately.” The youngster sprinted from the room in search of lemon for her ladyship. The stately woman lowered herself regally onto the lounger, arranging her full skirt around her legs. She scowled at the handmaidens. All three were terrified of Lady Birmingham.
Doris stopped to chat with the cook and the kitchen staff before taking her coat from the long rack by the door. The kitchen was a large room with two stoves, three large ovens and wash sink with pump. A large cutting table sat in the center of the work area. “Goodbye Maude, see you in the morning.” The cook waved to her over a pot of boiling stew. Perspiration dripped from her wrinkled forehead and she wiped it with the back of her chubby hand.
“Goodbye Doris, don’t forget those cakes for your girls.” Doris turned and lifted the parcel from the table. Maude was a blessing to Doris and her family, always slipping them food whenever she could. Doris shuddered to think what her ladyship would say, if she knew.
Walking the two miles home, Doris relished the beauty of the moors with the patchwork fields separated by short stonewalls. She had lived here all of her life, never wanting to leave. It was dark when she arrived at her small stone cottage on the hillside overlooking the valley. “Girls, are you home?” There was no answer. Doris took off her woolen coat and hat and set the cakes on the table. Before doing anything else, she climbed the narrow stairs to her room. She changed out of her uniform. It was imperative that she keep it clean and pressed. She pulled her comfortable wool dress over her head and tied a fresh white apron around her waist. Carefully she hung her uniform in the wardrobe.
Once back in the small main room, she walked to the fireplace and ignited the shavings that were neatly arranged and ready to light. “Mary Margaret, you are so orderly,” she said to herself. She was reminded of how efficient her eldest daughter was when it came to household chores. Her two daughters were as different as night and day. Her younger daughter was much better equipped to work on the land.
Mary Margaret arrived home first. She was a tall, willowy young woman with dark hair and eyes. She too wore a uniform. “How was your day dearest?” Doris thought her daughter looked tired. As tired as I feel, she thought.
“Splendid, Mother. Lord and Lady Douglas are very good to all of us. It is odd to work for people so young. Did you know that Lady Douglas is only five years older than I am? Imagine, so young and with so much wealth.” There was a slight tone of envy in her voice. Mary Margaret started to prepare the meal, singing as she chopped the vegetables. Her mother smiled, pleased to hear her daughter’s voice. It was a soothing, melodic sound that always helped her relax. “Did you know that Lord Douglas is going to Africa?”
“No, nevertheless that sounds very frightening. Imagine all of those wild animals!” Doris relaxed by the fire. She picked up her mending, her needles clicking rhythmically, while her daughter prepared the meal.
“He is going hunting, and Lady Douglas thinks it is cruel and heartless to kill defenseless animals.” She continued singing as she put the vegetables in the large cast iron pot.
“You seem to be in a very happy frame of mind today, Mary Margaret. Did anything special happen?” Mary Margaret blushed, turning away from her mother. Doris knew something was responsible for this merriment. “Mary Margaret?”
“I was walking home, when Mr. Charles Birmingham stopped and offered me a lift. I didn’t want to accept, but he insisted. Oh Mother, the carriage is so elegant. The seats were as soft as eiderdown and the horses, so proud and stately.” Her face took on a faraway dreaming look
“Mary Margaret, I don’t want you seeing that young man again. He and all of his kind are nothing, but trouble. Do you hear me?” Mary Margaret looked at her mother sadly.
“Really, Mother, it was just a lift. Can you not let me enjoy my few minutes of daydreaming without ruining it?” She turned and chopped the vegetables with more force, angry with Doris. Doris shook her head and stoked the fire. The Birmingham’s and their kind were nothing but trouble, why couldn’t her daughter see that? Men of the aristocracy used servants and working girls to satisfy their carnal needs, except when it came to marriage, only one of similar standing would do. Her daughter liked fine things, but they could not afford them. Doris worried that she would be lured, by the temptation of wealth, into a bad situation.
“Mother, Mary Margaret, are you home?” Elana burst into the room. At fifteen, she was just beginning to show signs of her womanhood. She was shorter than Mary Margaret, with the same slim build. Her hair was the color of copper, wild and wavy. Her eyes were green. She wore a long wool skirt that was covered with a long apron. The apron was covered in dirt and stains. Her boots were caked in mud.
“Elana, must you stomp into the room like a street urchin?” Mary Margaret barked at her sister. Elana
looked at her mother questioningly, shrugged her shoulders and went to the washhouse to get cleaned up. Working on the farm was hard work and she loved it because she enjoyed the feel of the earth and the satisfaction of watching the crops grow.
Back in the cottage Mary Margaret snarled, shooting another angry look at Doris. “You should be worried about what will become of that one, and leave me alone.” Doris remained silent, focused on her mending.
Several weeks later, Mary Margaret found herself in the company of Charles Birmingham once again. She was leaving the Douglas Manor when a horse and rider appeared over the hill. The rider was silhouetted against the setting sun. She held her hand over her eyes to shield them from the direct rays and watched him ride toward her. She recognized his straight aristocratic posture. “Mary Margaret, you are looking very lovely this evening.” He removed his hat, bowing from his perch on the large black stallion.
“Mr. Birmingham, how are you sir?” She smiled her most beguiling smile. He took in her lovely face and her shiny hair. The curve of her young lithe body made him want to take her in his arms.
“Very well, thank you. May I walk with you?” She blushed and cast her eyes downward. He climbed down from his mount and took the reins softly in his left hand. He hung his riding helmet on the saddle. Smiling, he strolled along with her. Looking up at him, her heart beat loudly in her chest. She could not help but think that he was very handsome. His hair was blond and wavy, resting just above his collar. His eyes were the deepest blue. The red riding coat and light breeches fit his muscular form to perfection. He reminded her of the Roman Gods she had seen in a book. The two walked and chatted for over an hour. When they reached the bend in the road that led to her cottage, she bid him farewell. She definitely did not want her mother to see her with Charles Birmingham.
Elana was coming from the opposite direction when she saw her sister and Mr. Birmingham. She remained unseen, behind the rhododendron bushes when he rode past. What was her sister doing with him? She ran the rest of the way home, confronting Mary Margaret at the door.
When Fate Steps In Page 1
