‘As for Alice,’ she went on, ‘I think it might be better to wait until Richard is here before you see her. I don’t want her alarmed in any way, and it is for Richard to decide how this should be approached.’
I nodded. Truth to tell, though I longed to see my little daughter again, I could not help but agree that this was not the right time. Not only must I be a dreadful fright to look at, I was exhausted physically, mentally and emotionally. I could give no guarantees as to how I would react in front of her, and my senses would, for the moment, take no more.
A maid showed me to the room Lady Avonbridge had allocated me. I washed myself, I fed Daniel, and settled him. Then I lay down on the great four-poster bed with him beside me, and though for a little while the terrifying events of the day spun round my head like a flock of startled birds, they seemed to be going further and further away, and I was drifting, drifting.
I slept.
Nineteen
‘Rowan.’ The voice was soft, a part of some dream.
Someone was holding my hand; it felt good and safe. Lips touched my face, fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from my forehead, their touch gentle, soothing the insistent throbbing in my temple.
I opened my eyes, still drowsy, and saw him there, and for a blissful moment it was as if the last years had never been at all. Rather it was as if I was waking in my bed in our little house in Watchet to find Richard home from his voyage; as if everything that had happened between his leaving me there and my awakening to find him at my side had been some fevered dream. Then Daniel whimpered and I knew it had been real, all of it, in every unbelievably terrifying detail.
‘Richard!’ I whispered. ‘Oh Richard, I am so sorry…’
‘For what?’ His voice was rough, yet at the same time tender. ‘It is I who should be sorry, Rowan, for leaving you at the mercy of those who would use you, not just once, but twice. I shall never forgive myself.’
‘You had to go,’ I said. ‘It was what you had set out to do. And I am glad – and proud – that you fight for the rights of those who cannot fight for themselves.’
‘You know? You have remembered?’
‘Lady Avonbridge told me. But yes, I am beginning to remember for myself too.’
It was true. I was remembering. Richard’s brave mission, the love we had shared, Theo’s mad obsession with me. Everything. I had not yet had time to examine my memories in detail, but I knew they were there now, waiting for me when I had the time to explore them.
‘That is good,’ he said. ‘But, oh Rowan, I should have been here for you! No matter what, you are the most important thing to me in the whole world. The most precious. I should have been here for you.’
‘It doesn’t matter now,’ I said. ‘It’s all over now.’
And that, too, was true. I was safe. Daniel was safe. And terrible though the events were that had made it possible, there was nothing now to come between Richard and me. My body ached from the punishment it had taken this day, my heart ached for John, struck down before his time by my own cousin. But my soul yearned only for my one true love.
‘Please hold me,’ I whispered.
He clambered on to the great four-poster bed, lay down beside me, and wrapped his arms around me. With Daniel still tucked into the crook of my arm, I turned my face into Richard’s shoulder, with the fine lawn of his shirt soft against my cheek and the faint familiar scent of his skin in my nostrils, and knew contentment and something closer to peace than I had known in a very long time.
* * *
He did not ask me then, but later he did. ‘Have you come back to me, Rowan?’
I looked at him, puzzled that he even needed to ask.
‘Of course! Surely you must know that?’
His hazel eyes were shadowed, his expression a little rueful.
‘I have learned, my sweet, through bitter experience, to take nothing for granted. As John’s widow, and the mother of the heir to his fortune, your future is assured. You have a fine house, servants, wealth… all I can offer you for the foreseeable future is a little cottage such as the one I took for you before, and a host of enemies made by me through working for the cause.’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ I exclaimed. ‘What do servants and a fine house matter to me?’
‘They are your son’s birthright.’
‘The most important thing for any child is a happy family!’ I said. ‘And in any case, all those things will be waiting for him. I shall not spend a penny piece of his inheritance, and when he is grown he can do as he likes with it. But I hope that the upbringing we can give him will mean that he will use it wisely.’
A sudden worrying thought assailed me. ‘You haven’t changed your mind, have you? You are still willing to take him?’
‘Of course I have not changed my mind! The very idea! I shall treat Daniel as if he were my own son – and teach Alice to look upon him as her brother. She will love him, I know – a real live doll for her to play with.’
A little nerve of anticipation at the thought of the happy days ahead jumped in my throat.
‘Just so long as she doesn’t chase him around when he begins to crawl, as she chases that poor cat!’ I joked.
‘Undoubtedly she will. It will be up to you to teach her to be gentle and patient with him.’
‘Yes.’ I raised my eyes to Richard’s. ‘May I see her now? Can we tell her who I really am?’
And: ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘If you are ready, I’ll take you to her.’
* * *
We found Alice in a big, sunny room at the top of the house. She sat astride a wooden rocking horse, her little legs dangling some inches short of the stirrups whilst she held on tight to its mane of real horsehair. Her nurse was with her, steadying her with one hand and gently pushing the horse on its rockers with the other.
As we went into the room, Alice’s face lit up.
‘Papa! Papa! Look at me – I’m riding!’
Richard laughed. ‘I can see you are! But I have brought someone to see you. Do you remember meeting this lady once before?’
Alice fixed me with a solemn blue stare. ‘Yes.’
‘And you liked her, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’ That was a little less certain. I felt a lump of nervousness constricting my throat.
‘Then I think you should get down from the rocking horse for a moment or two. I have something very important to tell you.’
‘Oh Papa…’
‘Come along now.’ He lifted her down, she wound her arms around his neck, blue eyes and hazel were both fixed on me.
‘Alice,’ Richard said gently, ‘have you not asked me sometimes why you have no mama? And I told you that she had to go away? Do you remember that?’
She nodded.
‘Well, I am very happy to tell you that she has come back into our lives, yours and mine. This lady is she, Alice. This is your mama. And she is not going to go away and leave us ever again.’
Alice regarded me solemnly. My heart was full. All I wanted was to take her in my arms and make up for the lost years, but I knew I must restrain myself. I must not alarm her; I must not force her in any way. I must wait for her to accept me and build and nurture the bond between us with patience and with love.
‘And you have a little brother too,’ Richard went on. ‘His name is Daniel, and when he is bigger, the two of you will be able to play together. You’ll like that, won’t you?’
Alice’s thumb went into her mouth, then, still puzzled, still wary, she nodded.
‘Mm.’
‘We are very lucky, are we not, that your mama has come back to us.’
‘Mm.’ Another long, thoughtful look, then she wriggled impatiently. ‘Papa…’
‘Yes, sweeting?’
‘Can I ride my horse again now?’
Richard smiled, all the harsh lines of his face softening with love.
‘Yes, sweeting, of course you can.’
He settled her back on the horse, holding her securely in t
he leather saddle and rocking her gently. And as she laughed with delight, the warmth inside me grew and swelled until I thought I would burst with it.
Yes, I must be patient in gaining her trust and her affection, but I could allow myself that luxury. For did I now not have all the time in the world?
* * *
There was a sense of unreality about those first days with Richard as we rediscovered each other and put together the first building blocks that would form the basis of our new life, our family.
Lady Avonbridge had kindly agreed that Daniel and I could stay at the Hall for the time being, for it would not be right for Richard to move into Mr Paterson’s house and I could not face the thought of going back there alone. Her own coachman drove me over to Clifton to collect the things we would both need, and I brought Perrett back with me too, to provide continuity in Daniel’s care and attend to my own needs. The rest of the servants remained behind to run the house until I had had time to decide what should be done with it.
With my blessing, Richard took care of all the arrangements for the two funerals that had to take place – Mr Paterson’s and Theo’s both, for there was no one but me left to bury Theo, and I could not countenance throwing the responsibility upon my grandparents’ shoulders. But aside from this, he put all his other duties to one side and spent the time with me.
‘Are there not things you have to do?’ I asked, reluctant to have him out of my sight, yet anxious he was neglecting his self-imposed mission.
‘They can wait,’ he replied firmly. ‘There will be time enough for them when I am sure you are recovered fully from your ordeal.’
And, grateful for his concern, I did not argue.
Lady Avonbridge was very kind in her brusque way, and very discreet. She ensured we were left alone, and we spent many hours talking – and simply holding hands, for we could scarcely believe that, after so much, we were truly together once more.
With my newly recovered memory, I was able to tell Richard what had occurred with regard to Theo whilst he, Richard, was away on that fateful voyage, leaving myself and my mother in Watchet.
He knew, of course, that Theo had attempted to woo me before he and I had met. Our troupe had been performing in Bristol, and he had recognized my mother and made himself known to her. At first, she had been pleased. ‘I never thought any of my family would ever speak to me again,’ I recall her saying. But her pleasure soon turned to consternation when she realized he was taking far more interest in me than she thought suitable.
‘He is your own cousin, Rowan,’ she had said. ‘And in any case, he is far too old for you. I don’t care for the life he leads, either.’
I had laughed at that. Considering that we were the ones who led what most people judged to be a less than respectable life, I thought it amusing that she should criticize the habits of a man who had followed his father into the trade. And in any case I had not taken Theo’s attentions seriously. To me, he was simply a rather exciting diversion. He flattered me, he spent money on me, he was fun to spend a little time with, and nothing more.
It was only when we moved on and Theo kept appearing at the venues we were playing around the countryside that I began to realize his interest was more serious than I had thought – or wished for. I told him in no uncertain terms that there could never be anything between us, and, when I met and fell in love with Richard, I thought, mistakenly, that was the end of the matter.
I was, of course, wrong; Theo refused to give up so easily. He tried to warn me off Richard, telling me he was nothing but a troublemaker and an adventurer. He even used the very words that he was later to attribute to Richard.
‘If I cannot have you, no one else will.’
I was frightened, but defiant. What, after all, could he do to me with Richard to protect me? And it was, in any case, I thought, an empty threat. Mere words. Again, I was wrong.
Whether Theo was indeed behind the firing of our cottage at Watchet, I shall never know for certain. It may well be that it was indeed Richard’s enemies who were responsible, but certainly my mother believed that it was Theo who set the torch.
‘He is a dangerous madman,’ she said, beside herself with anxiety. ‘He believes that if you no longer have a roof over your head, you will have to accept his offer. He’s obsessed with you, Rowan, and now that he has found you again, he’ll never let you go.’
‘But I am having Richard’s child!’ I had objected. ‘Surely if he knew that…’
‘I fear it would only serve to madden him the more,’ Mama had said. ‘God alone knows what he would do, Rowan. And we have nowhere to live, nowhere we can be safe from him.’
‘Can we not return to the strolling players?’ I suggested.
‘In your condition? No! And in any case, he’d find you, and they would be able to offer you no protection. No, there’s only one place you would be safe – one place where he would not dare touch you… I shall have to swallow my pride, take you to my parents’ home, and plead with them to take us in and give us refuge until Richard returns.’
I had not known what to make of that – though, in truth, the idea of a family rather appealed to me. And I was, in any case, in no position to argue. And so we set out on that last fateful journey, by hired carriage.
Night was falling when we reached the rectory; my first sight of it was not encouraging. In the grey half-light it looked a bleak, oppressive place. My mother bid the coachman wait and we approached the front door along a path overhung with heavy foliage. She was nervous, I could tell, for she walked briskly yet stiffly ahead of me, her head erect, her shoulders set, and she hesitated for a moment before rapping sharply on the door.
My grandfather himself answered. With the dull glow of the lamp behind him and the last dim light of the day on his face he made a forbidding figure.
‘Yes?’ he said. ‘How can I help you?’
I realized that we were to him merely dark, shadowy figures.
‘Papa,’ my mother said. ‘It’s me – Elizabeth.’
There was a long silence. He did not open his arms to her; there was to be no killing of the fatted calf here.
‘Elizabeth,’ he said at last, quite tonelessly. ‘And who is this?’
‘This is Rowan, my daughter. Papa… we need your help…’
Another long silence while his eyes ran over me in the half light and I almost shrank under his fierce, critical scrutiny. Then: ‘So I see. I always knew it would come to this, Elizabeth.’
‘Papa…’
‘Your daughter, I see, is no better than you. She is shaming you as you shamed me.’
‘Papa, please! I am proud to call Rowan my daughter! Don’t judge her. You have no knowledge of her circumstances.’
‘No shame!’ he boomed. ‘No shame then, and none now. Well, it’s no use coming running home now that things have gone wrong for you. I won’t allow this household to be sullied and used so. You made your choice long ago, and it seems this daughter of yours has made hers. With as little honour and decency! And she, like you, must take the consequences.’
‘Papa…’
‘Fornication, Elizabeth, is a sin I cannot – will not – condone. How could I? It is against the laws of God which I preach. What would my parishioners say if my own family is shown to be as wicked as the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah? You have sinned grievously, and so has your daughter, and until you are prepared to confess, do penance, and resolve to live a pure life, well, there is no place for you here.’
My mother was now trembling, I knew it, even though she stood tall and straight.
‘I understand, Papa.’
‘Elizabeth – you have never understood, nor tried to…’
‘Oh, I have, believe me! You call yourself a man of God, Papa, but you have not one ounce of Christian charity in your veins. You pray each day to be forgiven your trespasses, as you forgive those who have trespassed against you. But you don’t know the meaning of forgiveness! Don’t worry, we won’t trouble you any f
urther.’ She touched my arm. ‘Come, Rowan!’
I was angry then. Angry not for myself, but for my mother, who had humbled herself to ask for her father’s mercy, and found none.
‘How can you treat your own daughter so?’ I cried. ‘Don’t you know what it cost her to come to you? Well, may your God forgive you for your heartlessness, for I surely never will!’
And so we returned to our carriage and set out on that fateful last journey.
There were still things I did not know, of course. I did not know how Theo had come to accost our carriage, or why. I was only certain that he had done so. His face at the window was something which, now that I had remembered it, I could never forget.
All this I told Richard, and he listened, grim-faced.
‘I knew he was a rotten apple,’ he said. ‘I did not realize, though, the extent of his madness. If I had, I would never have left you for a moment.’
‘We could not have lived like that,’ I said. ‘I would not have wanted it so. And neither would you. There are things you had to do – you would quickly have come to resent me as a millstone around your neck if I prevented you from working for the abolition of the slave trade.’
‘You a millstone, Rowan? Never!’
‘You would not be the man you are if you were robbed of your purpose in life,’ I said. ‘You would not be the man I love. And I am as anxious as you to see an end to this most barbaric practice. It is abhorrent, Richard. It is evil. It has to be stopped.’
Richard sighed, running a hand around his jawline.
‘Sometimes, Rowan, I despair of being able to make the slightest difference. Those who make the laws are in the pockets of the wealthy traders – they have a vested interest in ensuring the money continues to roll in.’
‘Things will change!’ I said passionately. ‘They must! When enough right-minded people are prepared to stand up and be counted, Parliament will have to listen! And, in the meantime, we must all do what we can.’ I paused. ‘I have been thinking, Richard. I want to give our slaves their freedom.’
Forgotten Destiny Page 29
