by Cheryl Holt
When she’d lain in Mr. Hubbard’s bunk and gleefully despoiled herself, she’d whispered a prayer that it would occur. What if—this one dangerous time—her prayer had been answered? How would she explain herself?
Initially she’d thought about quietly waiting to determine the result then, if she’d escaped unscathed, she could simply continue on as if she’d never transgressed. But what type of decision was that? She wasn’t a deceitful or dishonorable person. She knew right from wrong, and after her scandalous fling it was definitely wrong to stay on and pretend to be a pious, dedicated servant of the Lord.
“You have news from your family.”
Sister Ruth yanked her out of her pitiful reverie, and Faith frowned. She never had letters from her father, and she had to assume it would contain awful tidings.
“What news?”
“A letter came for you.”
Sister Ruth handed it across, and Faith’s frown deepened as she saw that the wax seal was broken.
“It’s been opened,” Faith said.
“Yes, I read all the mail,” Sister Ruth coldly stated. “Your father died.”
Faith shielded any reaction. It seemed as if Sister Ruth was trying to goad her into a response, as if she’d glean a petty pleasure out of witnessing a display of upset so as Faith perused the words, she was careful not to exhibit any distress. And she wasn’t really distressed.
She and her father had never been close. He’d left her with servants for months at a time, and he’d been more like a distant and unlikeable cousin than a parent.
Still, he was her father, and she should have been suffering heightened emotion, but she wasn’t. After her aborted liaison with Mr. Hubbard, she couldn’t feel any anguish. She was numb and no topic could disturb her.
The date showed her father had been deceased for ages so his demise wasn’t recent, but her stepmother, Alice, was begging her to come home. Evidently there were many issues only Faith could repair or unravel.
Alice wouldn’t have a clue how to manage on her own. Lambert had likely inherited the whole estate, and the notion of his being in charge, of lording himself over the property and businesses as well as Alice and her twins, irked Faith very much.
“Your stepmother wishes you to visit,” Sister Ruth said.
“Yes.”
“You won’t be allowed to attend her.”
“Why not?”
“Nuns are no longer permitted to maintain their connections to the outside world. It distracts us from what’s important, which is prayer and devotion.”
“Yes, it certainly distracts us.”
Faith was being sarcastic, but Sister Ruth didn’t realize it. She stared at Ruth, wondering why she was so dour and dreary. What purpose was served by such a stern attitude? It was a horrid way to carry on, but Faith didn’t need to worry about it or fret over it.
“I have a few things to tell you,” she said to Ruth.
“What are they?”
“While I was away, I pondered my future.”
“And…?”
“I won’t take my vows after all.”
“Very well.”
At Ruth’s swift acceptance of her decision, Faith was aggravated. She’d tortured herself, questioning and reflecting. She’d finally announced her choice aloud, and Ruth was completely unmoved.
“Aren’t you interested as to why?” Faith inquired.
“No. I never thought you demonstrated much commitment.”
“You didn’t?”
“I often informed my predecessor that you weren’t cut out for this life. You’ve never belonged here, and you’ll only cause trouble if you remain.”
“There’s no beating around the bush with you, is there?”
“With the regimens I’ve implemented, you’d be miserable. I’d rather not gaze upon your grim face every morning.”
Faith actually laughed. Of the two of them, there was definitely a person in the room with a sour disposition, but it wasn’t Faith.
“Heaven forbid,” Faith retorted, “that I ruin your breakfast with my dismal outlook.”
“Yes, heaven forbid.”
“When would you like me to depart?”
“Immediately.”
“Immediately?”
“Yes.”
Faith studied her, anxious to protest, but wasn’t it best to go at once? Why prolong the agony?
“I don’t have any money,” she said.
“I’ll pay the coach fare to convey you to your relatives.”
“You must want me gone very, very badly.”
“I wouldn’t claim that I’m eager,” Ruth replied, “but there’s no reason to delay.”
“No, I suppose not.”
Faith sighed and pushed herself to her feet.
It was too abrupt, and she was terribly conflicted. The convent had been her home for eight years, and she had a store of marvelous memories. It felt as if she was being evicted when she didn’t deserve such despicable treatment. She wasn’t normally contrary, but she nearly demanded to stay—merely because she was being told she couldn’t.
“I’ll say goodbye to everyone,” Faith said, “then I’ll pack my bag.”
“There’s no need for you to say goodbye.”
“What?”
“I’d prefer you not cause a huge fuss.”
“But…but…this is madness. I have friends here. I have Rowena and Mother Superior’s nieces. We’re very close.”
“First of all, Miss Newton”—she’d already been demoted to miss—“I am Mother Superior now, and we follow my rules. Second, there is no point in stirring up the emotions of those who will be left behind. Particularly Rowena. She’s having great difficulty adjusting to being back. If she hears that you’re leaving, it will simply make her yearn and covet.”
“I’ll take her with me. I’ll take the girls too.”
Faith didn’t know if she should have voiced the suggestion. With her father deceased, there was no predicting what she’d find at home, but if the tables had been turned, Rowena would have offered the same. And Faith shuddered at the notion of abandoning the three girls at the convent.
Typically there were many children in residence. One of the nuns’ duties had been to shelter unwed mothers and orphans for whom adoptions were arranged. It had always been a safe spot for those who were experiencing hardship, but Faith had a sneaking suspicion that—under Sister Ruth’s tutelage—the obligation would be changing.
“You will not take them,” Ruth said. “You will depart, and they will remain and begin to acclimate.”
“Will you let me write the letter to their uncles in India? I spent such an enormous amount of time with them. I should tell their relatives what happened.”
“Your continued services with regard to the girls are neither wanted nor necessary.”
“You’re being deliberately cruel.”
“I am not,” Ruth indignantly responded. “I am saving Rowena and those girls the horrific prospect of a distressing goodbye. The girls especially have suffered many losses. We will not give them another reason to mourn.”
“You can’t stop me from speaking to them. I’ll simply walk down the hall and seek them out.”
“I don’t think you will.”
Ruth stomped over to the door and yanked it open. Four of her minions were there. They were older nuns, part of Ruth’s group of leaders. They formed a human barrier between Faith and the rest of the grounds.
Faith could have wrestled herself by them, could have brawled on the cobbles like a drunken tavern wench, but she couldn’t imagine engaging in such crude conduct.
“If you’ll come with us, Miss Newton?” one of them said. She gestured across the courtyard to the front gate.
She had Faith’s portmanteau—it had already been packed—and she shoved it at Faith along with an envelope. Faith grabbed the bag and peeked in the envelope, seeing that it was money for the coach.
She glanced at Sister Ruth. “You seem awfully
certain I’d go.”
“Nothing about you has ever surprised me. I knew you’d flee the minute you were provided the opportunity.”
Faith hovered, wanting to hurl a spiteful remark, wanting to be as snide and surly as Ruth was being. But what was the point?
Another of the nuns held out her cloak. “It will be cool tonight, Miss Newton. Don’t forget to wrap up.”
Faith draped the cloak over her arm. Then she marched to the gate and stepped through. It clanged shut behind her, the heavy beam plopping across the wood, sealing the nuns in and Faith out.
And…just like that, it was over.
For a moment, she nearly called out to Rowena in case someone might hear and pass on any message. There were still many kind and decent women trapped inside the walls, but she wouldn’t act like a harpy, wouldn’t stand in the road and bellow like a lunatic.
Sister Ruth’s ascension to power had been incredibly swift, and Faith would hope her tenure would be brief and that the situation would rapidly revert to normal. She’d connect with Rowena then, would offer to bring the girls to her home. But Ruth was a dictator in her petty kingdom and until she was cast down, there weren’t many options.
She turned and started for the village where she could ask how a single female could get to England in the fastest possible way.
* * * *
Rowena’s letter to Ralston was short and direct:
Things are dangerously bad here. Hideous leaders and very strict rules. Faith left or was kicked out. I’m not sure what happened, but I wasn’t allowed to say goodbye to her and she’s gone. I’m praying she went to her father’s, but I have no idea where she is. I have a month to take my vows or leave. They’re feeding us bread and water twice a week to keep us humble. Please, dearest Ralston, rescue me in the next thirty days. If you don’t, they’ll make me cut my hair!
She sanded the missive, then sealed it. Sister Ruth had locked them in to prevent the evil influences of the outside world from corrupting them. So it would be tricky to smuggle the letter out and have it mailed, but there had to be a deliveryman in the kitchen who would do her a favor.
Now she had to sit and wait. It was quite a distance to London, and she pictured her letter journeying all those miles, being conveyed into Ralston’s eager hand.
Temporary panic assailed her. What if he never received it? What if he never came?
Well, she wasn’t a prisoner and could go whenever she liked. The thought of it was scary though. She didn’t have any money and would have to figure out how to travel to England on her own. What if Ralston had moved? What if she arrived only to be apprised that he’d changed his mind about marrying her?
The notion was frightening, and she shoved it away. He was loyal and faithful and devoted. He would never forsake her.
She spent several minutes envisioning how he’d ride up on a huge stallion like a knight in shining armor. They’d trot off into the sunset, and she would laugh and thumb her nose at the gloomy nuns who’d never escape their dreary lot. She’d shout that she wasn’t one of them, that she’d never been one of them. She’d brag as to how she was forging a different path with the man of her dreams.
Though she had very few belongings, she packed a bag and stuffed it under her bed. When he appeared, she intended to depart immediately. She wouldn’t glance back. Not once.
* * * *
Chase hurried up the stairs to his rented rooms. He burst in, then shut the door and locked it.
Ralston was over by the window and had probably been watching Chase as he’d furtively flitted down the block and sneaked into the building. A humiliating state of affairs!
“What has you running?” Ralston asked.
“I wasn’t running. I was walking quickly.”
“It looked like running to me. Are you still being followed?”
“Yes. Everywhere I go, that bloke has been there before me, badgering people as to my whereabouts.”
“Have you discovered any clues as to what he wants?”
“No. He won’t divulge why he’s hunting for me, and I’ve been away from England for most of two years. I don’t remember fleeing any creditors when I headed for Egypt, and I hadn’t seduced any maidens. Not that I recollect anyway. What could he want?”
From practically the moment they’d stepped off the ship, they’d learned that someone was searching for Chase. Descriptions painted the fellow as educated and articulate. He might have been a rich man’s clerk or a lawyer, and he was probing into incredibly personal issues about Chase’s name and ancestry.
There was no good reason for a stranger to be asking those sorts of questions.
After all he’d endured in his circuitous route home to London, he wasn’t about to be taken up as a debtor or philanderer. It hardly seemed fair, but then as he often lamented, the world wasn’t fair and never had been.
Ralston was dressed for traveling, off to the country to visit his family, and at the prospect of being separated from his young friend, Chase was inordinately distressed.
Ralston would be away for only two weeks, but it might have been an eternity, and Chase was terrified that—once he was with his kin—they wouldn’t permit him to return to the city. Chase realized his fears were absurd. If Ralston didn’t return, Chase could certainly manage without him, but he was ridiculously alarmed by the idea of being alone and on his own.
“Let me guess why he’s hot on your trail,” Ralston said.
“Why?”
Ralston grinned. “Perhaps your luck has changed and you’ve inherited a fortune from an unknown benefactor. Or perhaps there’s a delayed bequest from your father.”
“You’re hilarious.”
“It could happen.”
“In a fairytale maybe.”
“You should be more positive.”
“Ha! If my father left me anything, why would it have taken twenty-five years for me to receive it?”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways, Chase.”
“Spoken like a vicar’s son.”
“Well, that shoe definitely fits me so I’ll wear it.”
Ralston peered out the window again, and Chase went over to their sideboard and poured himself a whiskey. He slouched in a chair, sipping his libation, lost in contemplation.
For the next few months, their situation was stable. He had some of his Africa money remaining, and he was gambling already, earning a bit here and there so his nest egg was growing. It wasn’t growing very fast or very large, but it was growing.
Ralston had to begin searching for a job. His inquiries at his prior place of employment revealed that his old boss, Mr. Fitzwilliam, was presumed deceased. His heirs were closing down the business so Ralston’s position was ended.
But he was an optimist and thought his brothers might help him find a new post. Chase assumed it would occur. Ralston led a charmed life with tons of kin to guide him through the rough patches.
Chase just had his sister, Amelia, who was now married to that bounder, Lucas Drake. He’d called on Lucas’s brother, Aaron, figuring Aaron could tell him where Amelia was living, but Aaron was out of the city, his house shuttered. So Chase had written to Lucas’s father, Lord Sidwell, hoping he could provide Amelia’s address, but Sidwell was an ass so the chance was very high that he wouldn’t respond.
In the meantime, Chase was dropping comments everywhere, apprising others he was back, asking them to inform Amelia if they saw her, but so far he hadn’t located her.
He downed his whiskey, then poured himself another and as he seated himself again, Ralston spun around.
“I miss Rowena,” Ralston said. “I miss Sister Faith and the girls. Don’t you miss them?”
“Of course, but it’s pointless to mope over it.”
“It was horrid of you not to say goodbye.”
They’d plowed this ground on several occasions, and Chase wouldn’t dig in it again. He shrugged. “I hate goodbyes.”
“Faith seemed particularly upset.”
“What happened at the coaching inn when she dragged you off for your private talk?”
“She had a bee in her bonnet over some little issue. You recollect how she was. She wanted to harangue at me about it.”
“You were awfully upset too when you returned to the carriage.”
“Why would you think so?”
Ralston assessed Chase in that annoying manner he had, as if he recognized each of Chase’s faults, as if he felt duty-bound to act as Chase’s conscience.
“Rowena told me an interesting detail about the two of you.”
“If that irksome girl pondered me for a single second, she obviously had too much time on her hands.”
Ralston was undeterred. “She claimed you and Faith were in love.”
“I can’t imagine where she’d come by such a spurious notion.”
“You were swimming with Faith.”
“Yes, I was.”
“And…?”
Ralston stared so intently that Chase was reminded of a headmaster he’d once had, and Chase couldn’t abide such powerful scrutiny. He sipped his drink, transfixed by the liquid in the glass, but he didn’t open his mouth to remark. If he did, all sorts of hideous drivel would flood out and he didn’t dare voice any of it.
He was so despondent!
He’d abandoned Faith without a moment’s hesitation because he’d been convinced it was for the best. She’d been seduced by the possibility that he was different from how he really was, and he’d briefly bought into her fantasy.
It had been despicable to ruin her. He’d known better, but had proceeded anyway. For a few fleeting minutes, he’d actually believed his own promises. But the cold light of day had yanked him to his senses. He couldn’t marry her, and he’d been a fool to pretend he could.
“We were just swimming, Ralston. Let it go, would you?”
“I suppose you consider it’s none of my business.”
“It isn’t.”
“If you love her, why don’t you fight for her?”
Chase remembered how she’d slapped him, and he wasn’t bothered by it. He’d deserved the blow. He’d been a total ass to her, but he’d behaved repugnantly on purpose. He’d wanted her to detest him, had wanted her to be jolted into accepting reality, but oh, how it hurt!
