“I will send Peg to the cottage with a basket of food. She’ll leave it on the doorstep. Get some rest.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you in a few days,” James said as he handed Mercy her bundle and took his horse by the reins. He wouldn’t be leaving it at the house stable, not when Edward could return at any moment. James’s eyes softened when he took in Elise’s rounded belly, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he raised his hand in farewell.
“And I will see you,” Elise replied and hoped it was true.
Chapter 58
Elise spent the next few days in a state of acute anxiety. She kept waiting to hear that James had taken ill, and she asked Peg several times a day if she’d seen anything when she delivered the food basket to the cottage. Peg assured her that all was well. James promised that he would keep the curtains open as long as he and Mercy were well, and he would close the curtains as a signal if one of them displayed any symptoms. Peg often found Mercy looking out the window and waving vigorously when she spotted Peg walking toward the cottage.
Elise thanked God that Mercy didn’t seem to be infected, but it was James to whom her thoughts strayed a thousand times a day. She’d never imagined what it would feel like to lose him, but now that the possibility was real, Elise realized that life without James in it held no interest for her. She’d hated him for so long that she hadn’t realized how much she’d grown to care for him. James never spoke of his feelings, nor did he ask anything of her, but Elise knew with an unwavering certainty that James cared for her and their baby. Had the circumstances of their meeting been different, they might have enjoyed a courtship, but their entire relationship had progressed backward, starting with consummation and creeping slowly toward love and respect. And if James took ill, she would lose him as well, as she had lost everyone she loved.
Elise recruited Peg to walk with her to the church. She had no right to ask God to spare James; he didn’t belong to her. But she prayed for him nonetheless. She hadn’t asked Edward to bring James to her bed, nor did she give herself leave to care for him, but now that her feelings were crystal-clear to her, the fear of losing him was overwhelming. They belonged together; they were a family, and Edward was the outsider. Surely in the eyes of God she was wed to James, wasn’t she?
The household breathed a collective sigh of relief when a week went by and no symptoms of the plague manifested. Elise and Peg walked to the cottage, eager to see James and Mercy. Mistress Benford tutted with disapproval as they prepared to set off, reminding Elise of Dr. Samuels’s sage advice, but Elise waved her off. She was tired of sitting around and brooding. A walk would do her good.
“How are you feeling?” Elise asked Mercy who looked well rested and adequately fed after a week of doing little more than moping about the house.
“Bored,” Mercy said with feeling.
“Then you must be well.”
“Can I go to the ’ouse? I’ve never been to a grand ’ouse afore, and I . . .” Mercy grew silent, believing to have overstepped the bounds of propriety.
“Of course, you can go. You can walk back with Peg. I’d like a word with your uncle, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” Mercy said. “He is surly and won’t play with me.”
“Well, maybe if you’re nice to Rob he’ll play with you after he’s finished his work in the stables. He’s only a few years older than you, and he knows all kinds of games.”
Mercy’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes. But will ’e want to play with me? Boys don’t like playing with girls, do they?”
“Depends what the game is,” Peg replied with a wicked chuckle. “Come along, Mistress Mercy. We’ll find some way of lifting yer sagging spirits.”
Mercy skipped in front of Peg as they walked down the path leading toward the house. James remained in the doorway, looking at Elise as a slow smile spread across his face. He looked well, and Elise breathed out a sigh of relief, certain now that he wouldn’t take ill.
“It’ll take more than the plague to get rid of me,” he said as he moved aside to let her through. Elise hesitated for a moment, then followed him inside the cottage. She’d expected to find squalor, but the cottage was clean and tidy, the clean dishes stacked on a shelf and a pot of something savory bubbling over the fire.
“Did you make that?” Elise asked.
“No, that was Mercy. Quite the little madam, that one. I have some ale. Would you like a cup?”
Elise shook her head. What she wanted was for James to take her in his arms, but the distance between them felt too great for some reason. Nothing had really changed but everything had. Elise looked up to find James watching her. His head was cocked to the side, and there was an odd expression on his face. Confusion mingled with longing as he took a step closer. This was her moment, and Elise seized it with all the impetuousness of the young. She walked into James’s arms and laid her head on his shoulder. “James, I . . .”
James held her close and kissed the top of her head. He smelled clean, as if he’d recently bathed, and Elise could feel the warmth of his body through the thin linen of his shirt.
“It was inevitable, you and I, wasn’t it?” he said quietly.
Elise nodded into his chest. Her heart thumped with a joyful rhythm as she turned her face up, smiling at him. “Will you not kiss me, Master Coleman?”
James lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers. They were soft and gentle, and her heart beat as if it might gallop straight out of her chest. She’d lain with James many times, but this was entirely different. This time she was a willing participant and not a pawn in a game she didn’t know the rules to. This time she had a say.
James kicked the door shut with his foot and led her to the bedroom. The bed was narrow and hard, and the linens none too fine, but Elise didn’t notice a thing as James helped her out of her gown. His hands shook with impatience as he undid the laces of the bodice and nearly ripped the ties of her skirt. At last she was standing in front of him in her chemise, and James sank to his knees and pressed his lips to the swell of her belly as he held it with his large hands. Elise felt a wave of tenderness for this man who’d never really known love. He would have it from her and their child; she’d make sure of that. Edward would have his heir, but Elise would have her love.
This time, their lovemaking was slow and tender. There was no rush, no ultimate goal. They had time, and they had each other. They explored each other’s bodies in ways they’d never done before, taking pleasure in giving the other joy. Strange how something they’d done numerous times before had taken on a whole new meaning, and when they finally came together, it was as if they were two pieces of one whole, joining together seamlessly in a conclusion that had been inevitable from the very start. Instead of the tension that Elise usually felt, she experienced a pleasure the likes of which she’d never known. James wasn’t just doing his duty, he was making love to her, and she soaked up his devotion as dry earth soaks up the first drops of long-awaited rain.
“How could something that was so wrong feel so right?” Elise asked as she nestled into James’s arms. Her back was to him and he laid a proprietary hand on her belly, his fingers splayed over the child they created.
“We must be very careful, Elise. Don’t think for a moment that my father didn’t imagine this might happen.”
“Well, he is not here, is he, and there’s no one to tell him our secret.”
“No, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep it to ourselves.”
“May we walk by the sea?” Elise asked James shyly once they got dressed.
“As you wish, my lady,” he replied with a smile. “Have you been to the beach since I left?”
“No, Peg wouldn’t come with me. She’s scared.”
“I suppose it can be intimidating to someone who’s never seen anything grander than the Thames.”
James gave her a bow and offered her his arm. “Shall we?.”
Elise accepted his arm and they walked in companion
able silence, each one lost in their own thoughts.
“What will happen after our walk?” Elise asked as she followed James down the narrow track. They had to walk single file, but James held his hand behind his back, Elise’s fingers in his.
James turned to face her. He looked momentarily puzzled, then lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it reverently.
“You will go back to the house, and I will return to the cottage. You’re Lady Asher, and I am your servant.”
“But what will happen with us?” Elise asked innocently.
“Nothing.”
They had come to the sea and Elise stopped, staring at the sparkling water, James momentarily forgotten. A lovely breeze blew off the sea, and she turned her face into it and closed her eyes. The baby kicked, as if suddenly aware of her awe. The coast looked deserted and wild but also majestically beautiful. Elise turned her face toward the breeze. It was bracing and cold and smelled of brine and seaweed. Elise took off her shoes and stockings and allowed the surf to rush over her bare feet. She gasped as the cold water swirled around her ankles, but the feeling was exquisite.
“Be careful,” James said as he took her by the elbow. “Wouldn’t want to endanger the Asher heir.”
Elise pulled her arm out of his grasp and turned to face him. “I am not your plaything,” she exclaimed, wounded by his lack of initiative concerning their future.
“No. You are my love,” he replied softly, his eyes caressing her flushed face.
“Did you know that people from this very town sailed to the Massachusetts Bay Colony nearly thirty years ago? They wished for freedom, James. And they found it.”
“Many of them died,” James replied, uncharacteristically pessimistic.
“And many of them didn’t,” Elise retorted.
James seized Elise by the elbow and pulled her away from the churning water. “Elise, I am a bastard. I am no one. I have no name and no fortune. I might snatch a few moments of happiness from this world, but I will never—you hear me?—never have a place in society or a comfortable life. Is that what you wish for our child? Yes, we can run away. We can even sail to America, but you will still be my father’s wife in the eyes of God, and I will still be a penniless bastard. What kind of life will our child have? What hope for the future?”
“So, what do you suggest?” Elise exclaimed, “That we just go on as we are?”
“For now, yes. Once the child is born, my father will no longer be able to disown it. The humiliation would be more than he can bear, especially in front of the king he so worships. Our child will have a title and a handsome inheritance. And a future. And I’m prepared to put my own wishes on hold to see that happen.”
“And what about me?” Elise demanded.
“What about you? You are a great lady. You have comfort, wealth, and an absentee husband. You also have a man who loves you and is devoted to you. Can you not make peace with the situation and just bide your time for now?”
Elise considered the wisdom of James’s words. He was right, of course. She was too stubborn and too proud. She wasn’t owed happiness, nor was she owed a livelihood. She didn’t care about making sacrifices, but it wasn’t fair to sacrifice their unborn child and condemn it to a life of penury and obscurity. If Edward openly disowned the child, it would have no name and be forever a bastard. James knew what that was like, and it had left an imprint on his soul that no amount of acceptance would ever erase. He wanted better for his son, and who was she to blame him?
“So, we sneak about?” Elise asked, but the fire had gone out of her, and she felt ashamed of her outburst.
“We bide our time,” James replied. “And we wait for an opportunity.”
“Do you really love me, James?” Elise asked, turning her face up to his.
“I do. And I swear to love you until my dying day.” He bent down and kissed her. The kiss deepened and James drew her against him. They were so caught up in the moment that neither one of them realized that they were being watched.
Chapter 59
Elise suggested that Mercy stay with her at the house. James couldn’t be expected to take care of a little girl, and Elise found pleasure in Mercy’s uncomplicated company. She was articulate and surprisingly observant for a child of seven. Edward had never met Mercy, so if he returned unexpectedly Elise would just tell him that Mercy was Mistress Benford’s granddaughter. He wouldn’t care one way or the other, and Mistress Benford had taken a liking to the little girl and treated her as if she were indeed her granddaughter. Mercy had even managed to charm Barbara, who lit up every time the child walked into the room. Barbara liked to show Mercy her embroidery and listened intently when Mercy talked, mesmerized by the cadence of her childish voice.
Mercy’s quick mind and desire to learn reminded Elise of her own sisters. She missed them so much, and she railed silently against her father for taking them away without so much as a good-bye. She’d loved and respected him, but he couldn’t be happier to be shod of her, especially since the debt to Edward had been deferred. Elise strongly suspected that Hugh de Lesseps had no intention of ever returning to England. Edward would hardly follow him to the West Indies to collect what was owed to him. Her father had used her to pacify Edward and defaulted on the rest of his debt.
“Is there anything you’d like to do?” Elise asked Mercy as they sat in the parlor, a plate of sweetmeats in front of them. Mercy had helped herself to three already, and her fingers were sticky with sugar, but her eyes were filled with sadness.
“I’d like to bring some of these to my sister,” she whispered. “She’s never had anything like it, and now she’ll go to ’er grave without ever knowing what she was missing. And me mam too. Will I ever see ’er again?” Mercy asked. She didn’t allow herself to cry, but her hands were clasped in her lap, the knuckles white with tension.
“Mercy, I won’t insult you by lying to you. You know as well as I do that I don’t have the answer, but I will tell you this: Many people who are exposed to the illness never catch it. It just passes them by. No one knows why, but they live on. I will pray for your parents and sister every day, and you must too. It will give them a better chance.”
Mercy scoffed at Elise’s words. “Pray? God doesn’t care.”
Elise was shocked to hear such a sentiment coming from one so young. “Who told you that?”
“I heard me mam saying it to me da. She said that God took ’er mother to punish ’er for ’er sins and took ’Arry because ’e visits the sins of the parents onto their children. And now ’e will take Beth and me, and even Uncle James. Mam said that God is cruel.”
Perhaps he is, Elise thought. She was overcome with sympathy for this little girl. God was a symbol of hope, love, and forgiveness, as long as one didn’t question the word of the ministers too closely. There were people who saw God’s mercy in everything, but there were those who railed against a deity they believed to be a despot. Of course, they did so in private because to question the Church could result in a trial for heresy. Was Molly one of those people who questioned the very existence of God? Was she a heretic? Or was she just a woman who was so crippled by her pain that she needed someone to blame? Many lost their mothers in childbirth, and many lost children. There were families whose graves took up whole rows in local cemeteries.
Elise placed a hand on her belly, suddenly aware that she wasn’t immune to the whims of fate. Would she survive the birth? Would her baby? And if it did, would it live to see adulthood? So many didn’t. Molly lost a child only a few months ago, and now she was about to lose another, if she hadn’t already. Mercy might survive this round of the Black Death, but it would come back, as it did every year to claim more lives and decimate more families. Where was God when so many were dying? Were they all guilty of something and paying for a crime, physical or imagined? Or was death random, with nothing at all to do with the commandments of the Lord? Did it sweep through the streets of London, claiming anyone who crossed its path and laughing at the kind, lovin
g God who could do nothing to stop it?
“What will happen to me if my parents die?” Mercy asked, interrupting Elise’s thoughts. “Where will I go if Uncles James dies too?”
“I will look after you. You have my word.”
“And do you have leave to make such a promise?” Mercy asked wisely. “Your lord might not agree.”
My lord is your grandfather, Elise wanted to shout, but she kept silent and rearranged her features into an expression of calm and reassurance.
“My lord need never know,” Elise replied. “I will keep my word, Mercy.”
“You two are getting awfully maudlin,” James said as he entered the parlor. He must have overheard the tail end of their discussion and was saddened by Mercy’s questions. Mercy knew too much for a child—she could see right through Elise’s hollow promise.
“It’s a fine summer’s day out. What do you say we ask Cook for a basket of food and take a walk to the beach? Would you like to see the sea up close, Mercy?”
Mercy’s eyes grew round in her thin face. “Oh, yes, Uncle James, please. I would like to see the sea. Is it really vast? Can I wet my feet?”
“Yes, it’s vast. Yes, you can wet your feet. And yes, you can run along the shore and look for treasure.”
“What treasure?” Mercy gasped.
“Well, there are all kinds of things that wash up on the shore—mostly shells and small stones, but sometimes there are coins and bits of jewelry, carried on the waves from the treacherous depths of the sea, stolen by pirates who still rest in their watery graves as punishment for their Godless deeds.”
Mercy squealed with delight as James scooped her up and twirled her around. “There are no pirates,” Mercy said once he finally put her down.
“Are you sure? Will you not see what you can find?”
Mercy gave this some thought. “I s’pose I’d better. Just to be sure.”
The Lovers (Echoes From The Past) Page 33
