Sins of Omission (25 page)

Frances found Archie in the stables, brushing down his favorite horse as he murmured endearments to the chestnut mare.  He seemed to drop his gruff exterior around animals and children, allowing himself that which he couldn’t quite express to adults.  Even Jem, who could drive the calmest of people to distraction, frequently got a kind word and a pat on the back from Archie, which was a feat.  Archie didn’t turn around as Frances came in, but she could tell he was aware of her presence by the tensing of his shoulders and the defiant lift of the head.  Archie stopped talking to the horse, but didn’t turn around to face her.

“Why did you do it, Archie?” she asked.  “Why did you tell Lord Everly that the baby is yours?”

“To protect you,” he replied without turning.

“Protect me from what?”

“From whatever it is you are afraid of.  You have your reasons for not revealing the father, so either you are frightened of him, or you just don’t want to compound your mistake by marrying him.  By saying that the child is mine, I’ve given you a way out,” Archie replied.

“I don’t understand,” Frances replied, her frustration mounting.  Archie was talking in riddles, as usual.

Archie finally turned around and faced her across the dim confines of the stable.  “Frances, by coming forward as the father of your child, I’ve given you options.  You can keep the child without marrying the father and later on claim that you’d married in France and your husband died.  No one would be the wiser once we returned to England,” Archie explained patiently.

“So, you weren’t offering to marry me?” Frances asked, going from confusion to hurt.  For a brief moment, she thought that Archie was declaring his feelings for her, but he was simply doing a favor for a friend, nothing more.  He didn’t think that Lord Everly would approve of a marriage between them, so he was in no danger of ruining his own life.  Hugo’s anger would subside eventually, and they would all go back to normal, except Frances, who would be pregnant and alone once more, her life no longer her own.

Archie looked momentarily confused by the question, as if the thought had never occurred to him.  Was she really that repugnant to him?  Frances leaned against the side of the stall, suddenly feeling like her legs wouldn’t hold her up for much longer.  It was as if all the air had been sucked out of the stables, leaving her in some kind of vacuum with this man who wanted no part of her, and made a gallant gesture knowing there would be no long-term repercussions to himself.

Archie was by her side in a moment, lifting her into his arms in case she fainted, and carrying her out of the stall toward a bale of hay by the door where the air was fresher.  Archie sat down on the hay and settled Frances on his lap.  He brushed a strand of hair out of Frances’s eyes and finally looked her full in the face in the dim light of the stables.  The truth of what she was feeling was finally starting to dawn on him, and he lowered his eyes for a moment to compose his reply, likely one which would be a rejection coated in pretty words.

“Frances,” he began patiently, “I would marry you tomorrow if that’s what you truly wanted, but I’m a decade older than you, have dallied with a string of women, and have nothing to offer you other than a life of uncertainty and hardship.  Why would you want to marry the likes of me, unless you simply wanted a father for your baby?”

“You would marry me tomorrow?” Frances repeated, a shy smile spreading across her face. 

“That’s the only thing you picked up on from what I just said?” Archie asked, his eyebrows shooting up with incredulity.

“Yes,” Frances replied simply.  “Why?  Why would you marry me, Archie?” she demanded.

“Because I love you, you stupid girl,” he exclaimed, unable to hold back any longer.  “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you when you fainted in my arms the day Hugo abducted you from your husband.  You were battered and bruised, and barely conscious, and all I wanted to do was to hold you and look after you -– and love you.  I felt a damn fool, panting after someone else’s fourteen-year-old wife, but there you have it.”

“Why have you never said anything?” Frances asked, bemused.  She was no longer pale and faint, but flushed and glowing with happiness.

“When was I supposed to say it?” Archie demanded.  “When you just lost your baby?  Or when you were so frightened of me you were ready to walk to Portsmouth rather than ride on the same horse?  Or when I was chaperoning your outings with a prospective suitor who could offer you a life of safety and comfort?  There was never a right moment, and I was grateful for that, for what I had to say to you had no business being said in the first place.”

“I came to you, Archie.  I offered myself to you,” Frances argued, now really annoyed.  Why were men so obtuse? 

“Yes, you did.  You wanted someone to practice on, someone to use.  I couldn’t do that, Frances.  If I’d allowed myself to touch you, I’d wanted to claim you for my own, and it wasn’t me you wanted.  You wanted to be ready for the likes of Luke,” Archie retorted. 

“You daft fool,” Frances cried, overcome by his inability to see what she’d really been offering.  “I came to you because you are the only one I trust, and you are the only one I care about.  You rejected me; you humiliated me, and you took away my hope.  And now I’m carrying another man’s child, and everything is ruined.”

Frances fled from the stables, tears streaming down her face as she ran toward the garden.  She just wanted to be alone, to lick her wounds, and rage at the utter stupidity of the situation.  This was just like the Greek mythology that Hugo was so fond of teaching to her and Jem, where Gods sat atop Mount Olympus and played with the fates of man for their own amusement.  Well, she hoped the Gods were amused, because there was no way out of this situation.  She could marry Luke and go to Constantinople with him.  Luke would be happy, and her child would have a father, but she would be miserable yet again, married to a man she didn’t love and torn from the only family she knew.  She could stay here, try to work things out with Archie, and expect him to raise another man’s child, which is not something she had any right to ask of him, even if he was up for it.  Or, she could just have the baby alone, and pretend she was a widow once they returned to England, in the hope that perhaps one day she might meet someone who loved her for who she was, and not give a toss about her past transgressions.

Frances fought back as Archie caught up with her and pulled her into his arms.

“Leave me alone,” Frances cried.  “There’s nothing more to say.  I will tell Lord Everly that you lied to protect me.  There’s no need for him to be angry with you.  I will handle this on my own, as I always have.”

“Franny, I meant it; I will marry you tomorrow, and I will be a father to your baby.  I will love it as my own and never, ever hold its paternity against you.  I was too blind to see what you were feeling, and I’ve made a mess of things, but I will do anything it takes to fix it between us.  Will you let me?”

Frances shook her head against his chest.  “Oh, Archie, it’s too late.  This is no way to enter into a marriage.  This is all wrong.  We are all wrong.”  She wrenched herself away from him and ran into the house, leaving Archie to stand in the middle of the garden looking hurt and confused. 

June 1686

Aboard the
La Belle

The day was warm but overcast, the sun hiding behind thick clouds as the
La Belle
finally came within view of land.  Max stood on deck watching the distant shore grow closer, his heart thumping against his ribs.  He thought he’d be thrilled to see Europe again, but all he felt was apprehension.  What was he to do now?  He had no money, no friends, and no skills which would enable him to make enough to live on while saving for his passage back to England.  Had this been the twenty-first century, he’d just whip out a credit card and get on the first flight to London, but here, he needed real coin, earned by real labor.  Max’s ordeal was far from over. 

Banjo stood next to Max, perched on a coil of rope that enabled him to see over the rail.  “Is that it?  Is that France?” he asked. 

His voice was small and filled with dread.  The fun of the voyage was nearly over, and he would go to his new life, to new masters who might, or might not, be kind to him.  No matter how frightened Max was at the prospect of being on his own, he knew that Banjo was far more scared.  Max couldn’t imagine being five years old and already alone in a world of strangers, dependent entirely on their goodwill and compassion.   Banjo was being awfully brave.  Had this been a five-year-old Max, he would have cried and hid away somewhere on the ship, in the hope that the crew would take him along on their next voyage.

“Will you be coming with me to Paris, massa?” Banjo asked, his voice full of hope.

“Yes, I will go with you as far as Paris, but then you will go on to your new home,” Max replied, moderating his tone to sound encouraging.  The child didn’t need to feel his apprehension; he was scared enough already.

“Will you go to yours?” Banjo asked.  “Can I come and visit you?”

“In time, but first I will spend some time in France,” Max replied uncertainly.

“Will you come and see me?” Banjo asked.

“I don’t think I will be welcome, Banjo, but I will look out for you.  Maybe I will see you one day, riding in a fine carriage, dressed in silks and velvets, and smiling with contentment.”  Max felt a catch in this throat, but attributed it to the dampness in the air.  He laid his hand on Banjo’s head, and the boy leaned against him.  They stood like that for a few minutes until Captain Benoit came upon them on his way to the bridge.

“Run along, Banjo,” he said kindly, and gave the boy a slight shove in the direction of the quartermaster who was waving for him to come up on the bridge.  Banjo’s mood instantly lifted, and he ran along, eager for a turn at the wheel.  It would be his last time, so he wanted to make the most of it.

“So, how does it feel,
milord
?” the captain asked with a sly smile.  “You are about to disembark as a free man.”

“Yes, a free man with no money, no contacts, and no home to go back to,” Max replied, suddenly feeling sorry for himself.  Where was he to go once he got off the ship?  Perhaps he could get some work on the docks, loading and unloading vessels, and get a room in one of the shorefront taverns.  They were bound to be cheaper than anything in the center of town since they catered to sailors and stevedores.

“I’ve been considering what you said a few days ago,” the captain began, his eyes fixed on some distant point on shore.  “The dynamics of trade are changing now that the American Colonies are a player, so perhaps learning English could benefit me in my trade.”

“But you already speak English,” Max replied.

“My English is not very good, but it serves my purposes,” the captain agreed.  “However, I have two boys, aged seven and eleven.  I hope they will join me one day.  I fancy having a fleet of ships at my disposal,” the captain confided with a wistful smile.  “It would serve my boys well to know English, especially if it will be the language of commerce, as you so eloquently stated.”  The captain chuckled at such a fanciful notion before continuing. 

“I will offer you a position in my household.  You will have room and board, and a modest wage, which will go a long way toward paying for your passage home.  You can tutor my boys in English, mathematics and astronomy.  They will need to learn to navigate once they go to sea,” the captain elaborated as if Max might wonder why children would need to learn those subjects.

“I must admit that I find philosophy, Latin, and Greek to be something of a waste of time in my line of work.  The only time a captain gets truly philosophical is when there’s a chance of his ship going down, and the oaths that pour from his mouth are rarely in Greek.  So, let’s give it a few months and see how things progress.  What do you say,
milord
?”

“Do you live in Le Havre?” Max asked, suddenly dismayed.  He needed to be in Paris where the Everlys were, but he supposed staying in Le Havre for a few months would not make too much of a difference.  He needed to have some money before he undertook any decision.

“My wife hates Le Havre,” Captain Benoit snorted.  “She says it’s dingy, ugly, and utterly devoid of culture.  My family lives in Paris.  It’s not a very fashionable neighborhood, but we have a comfortable house and several servants.  I think you’ll find it to your liking.  And, you will be close enough to visit family,” he added with a touch of sarcasm.

“I accept with pleasure,” Max said as he held out his hand to the captain.  “I just hope your wife doesn’t object.”

“My wife does what I tell her to,” the captain replied, surprised that Max would even worry about his wife’s reaction.  But then again, the man wasn’t married, so he wouldn’t understand a wife’s devotion and obedience.

“I’m expected on the bridge,” the captain said as he turned to walk away. “We’ll speak more later on, over supper at the tavern.  They do a fine oyster stew, and their claret is not half bad.  Don’t worry,
mon ami
, supper is on me.  You can pay me back by being good to my boys.”

Max stared at the fast-approaching shoreline as a slow smile spread across his lean face.  He’d suffered greatly over the past eight months, but things were finally looking up.  The stars were aligning at last, and he would make the most of his newfound fortune.  A roof over his head, meals, and proximity to Hugo and his family were all he needed.