Her body glowed every time he met her gaze, the sun turning his eyes topaz. What would it be like to greet every morning with the joy of him?
The afterglow of their passion was soon doused when they returned to the Siren Inn. Henry and Bethan entered to find it unnaturally quiet, except for the sound of Sabine retching in the corner.
“Oh, my poor dear!” Bethan rushed over, helped her up.
Sabine held a rag to her mouth.
“Go to bed, Sabine. I’ll take care of you.”
She gulped and nodded.
Just then, Lena stumbled into the room from her private quarters.
“Lena, are you ill?”
“No, I’m fine. I must feed the babe.” And without another word, she turned around and disappeared.
Henry stood above a sleeping George. “I’ll lend you a hand.” He peered at the big kettle over the fire. “The kettle’s full.”
“Thank you.”
“No thanks needed. I am at your service. I’ll go into the kitchen and see about making a broth.” As Henry passed by, he touched her cheek. “Bethan, love. We will face life’s troubles together, thee and me.”
She tried to smile, but the weight of what must be done had already doused the glow from her.
He kissed her lips lightly. “And we will share the joys as well.”
“We’ve no time to talk about it right now, when there’s so much to be done.”
And suddenly the evening in the moonlight seemed only a fairy tale.
“I must check on Elunid.”
****
Bethan opened the door to Elunid’s room.
“Elunid?”
The bed was empty, bedclothes strewn on the floor.
“Where are you?”
The ewer and basin lay in pieces on the floor, the armoire had been emptied, clothes littering the room.
In the far corner, Elunid crouched naked in the fetal position. Her anguished keening raised the hairs on Bethan’s spine, and as she rushed toward her sister, terror crashed into her like a rogue wave. She steeled herself against it and gathered Elunid in her arms.
Elunid stiffened and struggled, slapping Bethan across the face. Bethan struggled to hold her, arms burning with the effort. Elunid’s head hit her chin, and the sour scent of fear radiated from her. Bethan sought to find the words; their old language could sometimes break through the chaos of her mind.
“Sligh-manon, meecheh.” She crooned over and over, rocking her back and forth, panic smoldering in her chest. She willed her mind to reach her, at the same time afraid to fall into the abyss, into her sister’s agony. “Ellie, please. I’m here. Ellie.”
She didn’t know how long they remained there, rocking. Her voice ached from crooning; she pressed her lips against her sister’s forehead, tasted her sweat borne of fear. A nameless malignant presence hovered over them.
She managed to lift Elunid up and carry her to bed. She had stopped her keening but hissed like a snake with each breath. Now she was laid out, Bethan’s gorge rose at shallow scratches covering Elunid’s body. She grabbed a night rail on the floor and wiped the blood off as best she could. Had she done this to herself? She’d never harmed herself before.
She fought against the horror clawing its way up her throat. Breathe, Bethan. Think. You must help her. There was only one thing to do: tend to her wounds and dose her up with medicine.
“Sweet Sister.” She covered her shivering body with a sheet and reached for the ointment in her apron. She rubbed the ointment over the scratches. Perhaps the scent of the marigolds would soothe her. She found her night rail and dressed her, covered her with blankets, stroked her forehead, willing her to close her eyes. What horrible things had she seen to make her do this?
She dared not leave her, but she must put the medicine in something. Ah. A half empty teacup sat on the bedside table. Ian had said this batch was stronger, but she would double it. She kneeled on the bed and lifted Elunid into a sitting position. It was like moving a wooden doll.
“Sweeting, you must take this.” She pried her mouth open, poured the scant liquid into her, and closed it, pinching her nostrils shut.
Elunid sputtered and choked, but the liquid stayed down. Bethan waited. She curled up beside her and put her arms around her cold, still form. She fell asleep.
She awoke, disoriented and aching in every limb, but Elunid lay sprawled in bed, asleep.
She rose and pulled the covers up to her chin. The medicine worked. For now. And that’s all she dared ask for, wasn’t it? She set the room to rights again, picking up the broken shards of pottery, shattered like Elunid’s mind.
****
This one, he liked to whisper praise in one ear when she sewed a Beauty Stitch, and sew her finger to the cloth when her hands faltered. Marred the needlework with the blood. How was she to please them if he profaned her work? She’d had to start all over.
The second one had come when she was young still, to sever her from Sister. Hissing hate, praising hate. If she didn’t listen, he put boils on the young girl’s face, lifted the skirts of old women. Screamed obscenities now, for she had been too close to Chwaer of late. He loomed over her, the buzzing of flies around his head, red eyes seeing into the shame boiling inside of her, red eyes bidding her to answer his call. Threatened to ugly her Chwaer with sin, make her his. No. I am already ugly with sin. Take me. She let his darkness swallow her.
****
She returned to the main room to the sight of Henry at a table, holding little Josef, who stared at him, and with impressive strength, pulled his hair out of his tie. Despite her fatigue, the cozy domesticity of the scene did much to strengthen Bethan. She fetched them all a mug of ale and sat down with Henry.
“Bethan, are you ill?”
“No, I’m fine. It’s Elunid. But she’s sleeping now.”
“Why did you not fetch me? I could have helped.”
“I couldn’t leave her.” And besides, this was her battle to fight.
“I thought perhaps you’d fallen asleep. I’m a little tired myself, but not sorry.” He grinned, then paled when she didn’t smile, but merely kissed the top of her head. “Look at poor yon Vicar.”
Vicar Andrews sat morosely viewing a plate of fried kippers. “Mistress Bethan, may I be of use? Mistress Sabine, I could serve her some soup, perhaps minister to her.”
“I bet you could.” Henry concealed his smirk behind the baby’s head.
She poked him in the arm.
“Thank you, Vicar. But I fear it would be most improper of you to do so.”
“And you very well know that,” Henry said.
Vicar blushed. “Will Mistress Sabine be okay? She is very delicate.”
Sabine, despite her slight figure and quiet nature, was one of the strongest women Bethan knew. Everyone knew the vicar carried a torch for her.
Young Johnny burst into the inn. “Mistress Bethan. I’ve been sent to fetch Mr. Henry and you to the apothecary’s house.”
“Are Mistress Maggie and the baby okay?” She reached for her cloak.
“Yes, they’re well. But it’s something else. I was told not to say.” The boy waited, and Henry threw him a coin.
Bethan and Henry exchanged a worried glance.
“They would not summon us unless it was important.” Henry turned to George, who made himself useful by dandling Sabine’s baby on his knee. She giggled as he sang “Banbury Cross” to her, which made him laugh as well.
“It’s a big responsibility I’m putting on your shoulders. You are the man of this establishment, and must see to everyone’s needs as best you can. Check on Sabine, and put the babes in their cradles if need be. If anyone needs to be waited on, fetch their ale and use what’s in the kitchen.”
“Vicar can collect the coins and help with the babies. Give the girl to him,” Bethan said.
“Aye.” Eyes wide, George handed the baby to Vicar.
“Aren’t you just one of God’s sweet creatures,” Vicar crooned,
a look of mild panic on his face.
“She said you must hurry.” The boy still stood at the doorway.
Henry came and took her arm. “We’d best be on our way.”
When they got to the shoppe, Martha, the baker’s wife stood weeping over her daughter, Isadora.
Isadora lay on the divan, crying in great, ragged sobs.
“My poor Isadora! What’s happened to you?” Her mother, Martha embraced her.
“Don’t touch me.” She had a blackened eye and a ragged cut upon her cheek. Her bodice was ripped at the neck and hanging from her in tatters.
Ian approached. “Isadora, this will help calm you.”
She cringed. “No.”
“They found her staggering through the Landgate,” Maggie whispered. “She was insensible.”
Isadora hid her face in her hands, and rocked back and forth.
Martha wrung her hands. “Who would do this you? You are ruined, Isadora, ruined!”
“Martha,” Maggie said, in a tone commanding authority. “Go to your cottage and fetch her some food. I’m sure she’s hungry. And she’ll need to bathe in the tub.”
Martha nodded and swept out the door.
Ian took the crying babe from the cradle and followed Henry into the shoppe, closing the curtain at the parlor’s entrance. “Let’s leave the women alone to minister to Isadora. I sent my messenger boy to contact the constable.”
“Now then.” Maggie handed the tea to Bethan. “Martha needed something to do and will be the calmer for it when she returns, I hope. Isadora may not have wanted to say anything in front of her mother. Perhaps she will talk now.”
Bethan nodded. “Isadora, drink this. It will ease your pain. Here, I’ll help you. There now.”
“Someone has molested her,” Maggie whispered. “There is blood on her… I need to examine her when the herbs take effect, see if there’s anything I can do for her.” She shook her head.
“I’m soiled,” Isadora cried.
Bethan kept her demeanor calm and comforting, but inside she fought a rising panic. She took the cup from her and soaked a cloth in a basin of warm rose water. “Here, let me clean your face. It will feel good.”
After a while, Isadora threw off the blanket and straightened in the chair. She took a long, shuddering breath and sobbed again, tears pooling in the pockmarks on her cheek. “I thought he was different. He said I was beautiful. He said I was a rare jewel, one to be treasured.”
She laughed then, an odd choked sound, raising the hairs on Bethan’s neck. “He promised to take me away to exciting new places and give me children who would love me.”
“Who did, Isadora?”
“Freddy. I thought he loved me.”
“You thought he loved you,” Bethan echoed.
Isadora laid a hand on her womanhood, covered her breasts with her other arm. “But he didn’t, he hurt me. He ruined me.” And she wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth. “I’m a fool.”
“Can you tell us anything else, so we can bring this man to justice?” Maggie gingerly sat down beside her.
“No, I cannot talk about it. No.”
“Isadora, you must understand. This not your fault. You mustn’t blame yourself,” Bethan said.
“I will not hurt you, I promise. But I need to look at you, see how best to help you,” Maggie said.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Isadora nodded.
Maggie hurriedly examined her. “As hard as it is to believe this now, your wounds will heal. I see no permanent damage.”
At least physically. “Isadora,” Bethan said. “I must return to the Siren Inn, but I will come and visit you tomorrow, if you’ll permit.”
Isadora nodded.
Without warning, a jolting pain slammed into Bethan’s back. She stifled a cry of pain. Then, just as quickly, it subsided. Had the trials of the day, the excitement and distress finally caught up with her? No time for this, not when she had so many people to care for. At least Elunid was asleep, and likely would be for a while.
She said her goodbyes and stepped into the shoppe, where Ian puttered around, the babe in his arms.
“I have some herbs to ease Sabine’s nausea.”
“Ian,” Bethan said. “It seems as though your mixture might be of help to Elunid. She’s sleeping soundly after…well, she’s sleeping soundly.”
“Excellent.” His hearty exclamation had startled the babe, who wailed with impressive volume.
“We must be getting back,” Henry said. “I’ve left George in charge.”
“Good lad,” Ian said absentmindedly, his head bent toward his boy. “I’ve a song for you, wee one.”
Bethan grinned as they walked out, then sobered at the thought of poor Isadora.
Henry took her arm as they walked back to the Siren Inn, a brisk wind from the channel hastening their journey. “The poor girl.”
“Her life will never be the same,” Bethan murmured.
“She could be happy again.”
“How can you be so optimistic?” Bethan turned to him. “No one will ever have her, ruined as she is.”
“She may find a good man who will love her despite her past.”
“Not likely.”
He reached up to smooth her forehead. “Never doubt the love of a good man.”
She quickened her pace. “There are many who need our care right now. We can’t think of ourselves.”
They entered the inn to find George sound asleep by the fire.
“Poor lad,” Bethan said.
Upon hearing her voice, he jumped, then swayed. “Oh Da! I’m sorry. I tended to Sabine as you asked, and the babes are asleep, and I was so tired.”
“It’s okay, George. Go back to sleep. You did well. Have you seen Lena?”
“No, I thought she was asleep. Oh, I don’t feel so well.” He held his stomach and vomited.
Henry rushed to him. “George!”
Just then, a pair of dusty travelers walked in.
“Welcome,” Bethan said. “Can I fetch you some ale straightaway?”
They nodded and sat down by the window.
“I must check on Elunid,” Bethan said.
She hurried to the private quarters and into her twin’s room. The bed lay empty, her embroidery strewn in pieces on the floor. “Elunid!”
She searched the room, the armoire, the corners, under the bed. She stood in the middle of the room, gasping. Breathe, Bethan. She could be anywhere, in a corner of the inn somewhere, caught up in her visions. She opened her senses, reached out for her.
No. She may have just gone to find more thread. But her embroidery—she never would have thrown it on the floor. Her cloak was gone, though. The jolting pain in her back returned, and she gasped as the babble of tormented souls assaulted her ears. She must find her. Chwaer.
She searched the remaining rooms to no avail and found Lena in the ale room, holding her stomach.
“Elunid is gone.”
“What’s this?” Henry burst into the kitchen. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I can feel her. She needs me.”
“I’ll help you search.”
They searched the inn, to no avail.
“I must stay with George,” Henry said. “But if you wait, I’ll set him aright, then help you.”
“No, I must go now.”
She set off for the docks first, but no one had seen her.
“We must search the caves. Pray God she hasn’t gone down there.”
Some boys played on the beach.
“Lads.” She motioned for them over. “There’s coin in it for you if you’ll search the caves for a woman who looks like me.”
“Aye. Let’s go.”
“If you find her, one of you come and fetch us. I’ll be at the apothecary shoppe.”
“If she’s there, we’ll find her.”
Mayhap Elunid had gone to seek help from Ian. She hurried over.
Ian was in his wheelchair, readying himself to
go out, his face grim. “I was just coming to fetch you. Elunid is gone?”
“How did you know?”
“Go talk to Isadora. She…”
Bethan rushed into the parlor, followed by Ian. “Isadora, do you know where my sister is?”
Isadora burst into tears, crying in great gasps. “I’m sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”
“What are you talking about?” Bethan sat down beside her and rubbed her back.
“I just wanted Freddy to love me.” She grimaced. “And now your sister…”
“What are you saying?”
“He said he was only going to scare her. For talking about the wool they were smuggling. He said I would be doing the town a service, if I brought her to him, so they could talk to her.”
“They?”
“The Parson too. Freddy said he wasn’t going to hurt her.”
Unease prickled down her spine. “Where is she?”
As if she didn’t hear her, Isadora continued. “Charlotte and I snuck in and lured her to the Landgate, pretending to be her friend. I told her I had some special thread that had been blessed by the angels.”
Bethan removed her hand from her back.
“How could I be so cruel? And now anything could have happened to her, and I am ruined.”
“Stupid girl!” Bethan clenched her fists to keep from slapping her.
Maggie sat in the rocking chair, feeding the babe. “Isadora. Tell us what happened so we can find Elunid.”
“We’ve been putting ideas in her head, Charlotte and I, for sport. I thought what harm could it do. She’s touched anyway.” She glanced at Bethan, cringing at the look on her face.
“We snuck her out and led her to the Landgate. Freddy was there, and he took me into the woods, said he must ask me an important question.” She gulped. “Charlotte said she would tend to Elunid.”
A fine trembling coursed through Isadora. She moaned and rubbed her face, hard. “He had his way with me, hurt me. Said if I loved him, I would submit to him.”
Bethan fought her aversion toward the girl and grasped her hand, saw the skin in her fingernails. She was a foolish girl but hadn’t deserved to pay for her foolishness at such a price.
“He led me out of the woods, said he’d return for me. Then the Parson came with the gypsy wagon. When Elunid saw him, she began to scream. She fought like a scalded cat, knocked a tooth out of the parson, gave Freddy a black eye. Maybe if I’d fought like that…”
Echoes of the Moon Page 18
