The Passage (24 page)

Gossamer fingers of sunshine reached through the unshuttered windows and caressed everything in their path, a golden haze settling on the bed.  I stretched, smiled at the memory of last night, and promptly blushed, recalling some of the more intimate moments.  I felt unusually languid, reluctant to get out of bed and start the day, but as wakefulness returned, the enormity of what I had done came crashing over me like a ton of bricks.  Perhaps Hugo had experienced the same rush of panic since his side of the bed was empty and cold, as cold as my heart suddenly grew. 

Last night had been magical, but in the harsh light of day, I realized that I’d opened a Pandora ’s Box by acknowledging my feelings for Hugo and being weak enough to actually act on them.  What was I supposed to do now?  The plan had always been to make my escape as soon as we got back to Everly Manor, but how could I just walk out on Hugo without any explanation?  I’d seen the vulnerability in his eyes, and knew the pain he’d been through and was yet to experience, so how could I just break his heart that way?  Despite my growing love for Hugo I’d always known I’d go back.  There was never any doubt, but now the seeds had been sown, and I had to confront some very difficult questions, especially in view of what I knew would happen. 

It was mid-April, and the Bloody Duke of Monmouth, damn his eyes, would be landing in England to stage his rebellion in less than two months’ time.  Between now and then, something terrible would befall Hugo, and I would either be far away in my own time when it happened or right there beside him, watching helplessly as the man I loved was torn away from me.  And then what?  Could I do anything to help him?  Could I in any way prevent whatever it was that was about to occur?  And if I couldn’t, could I just return to my old life as if nothing had happened?  How could I?  Everything had changed, and truth be told, there was no one waiting for me back home; a thought that I’d tried to push away ever since I got here.  Apart from my job, which I’d no doubt lost by now, there were no pieces of my life to pick up.  I had no family and few friends.  Evan had been the center of my existence, but the thought of him made me angry and bitter, mostly with myself for wasting time on a man who didn’t deserve my love or my grief. 

I hadn’t known Hugo for long, but I knew deep in my soul that he was as solid as they came; a man who would die before he would betray his principles or his family.  Hugo was worthy of my love, but was I worthy of his?  Had he bolted this morning before I woke up, sick with the realization that he’d made a terrible mistake?  What did he know of me or my origins?  What could he think of a woman who just threw herself at him without so much as a thought for the future?  Of course, I knew that a future was impossible, but a man of his time would know the price of loving.  A man either had a mistress or a wife, or possibly both, but took responsibility for his women.  And the women did not give themselves lightly; they negotiated their surrender, making sure that they weren’t left used up and destitute when their lover grew tired of them.  I had asked for nothing and promised nothing in return, and now I had no idea where I stood.  All I knew was that if Hugo regretted last night, I’d be devastated, my heart torn to shreds after feeling the unbearable heat of his love.

I sat up and wrapped my arms around my legs, resting my head on my knees.  I felt wretched and confused; the afterglow of last night long gone and the reality bitter as ashes on my tongue.  I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn’t come.  I was physically and mentally holding myself together, knowing that if I finally gave vent to my emotions, I might not be able to regain control.  I knew that I should wash, dress, and make my way downstairs, but I simply couldn’t face whatever was waiting for me when I got there.  I wanted to hide, and this was as good a place as any. 

I was so enveloped in my misery that I hardly heard the door open, and only looked up with a start as a bunch of daffodils appeared in my peripheral vision.  Hugo was standing by the bed; the flowers frozen in his hand as he took in my expression.  I must have looked pretty haunted because he set the bouquet aside and sat down on the bed, searching my face for clues.

“I’m sorry, Neve,” he finally said quietly, confirming my suspicions.  He was sorry about last night, and he’d bought me a bunch of flowers to soften the blow.  I felt as if a dull knife had been driven into my gut, twisting and turning and leaving total carnage in its path.  I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.  All I wanted was to get away from his soft gaze and his warm hands, which took my frozen ones and were rubbing some heat into them. 

“There’s no need to be sorry,” I finally managed.  “I will leave as soon as we return to Cranley.  You need not worry.  I expect nothing from you.”

I risked a glance at Hugo’s face.  He was white to the roots of his hair, his eyes huge with shock.

“I don’t take your meaning,” he finally stammered. 

“Isn’t that what you want?  You just said as much.  You are sorry for last night,” I mumbled, suddenly unsure.

Hugo just drew me to him and rested his chin on my head.  “You foolish girl,” he said, stroking my back.  “That’s not what I meant at all.  I only meant that I was sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.  I couldn’t sleep and went for a walk along the canal.  I needed to think.”

“I thought you might,” I replied, waiting for the axe to fall.  He had to have been thinking along the same lines as me.  I pulled away from him so that I could see his face.  I needed to.  Whatever he was about to say wasn’t going to be easy for him, but I needed to let him say it.  He deserved that much, and I wouldn’t interrupt.

“Neve, after you fell asleep last night I just lay here, watching you.  I’d forgotten what it’s like to be happy, and the feeling took me utterly by surprise.  I was so wound up I couldn’t sleep.  All I wanted to do was wake you up and have you tell me again that you love me.”

“Is that all you were thinking?” I asked suspiciously.

“No, not quite.  I was thinking that I have no right to ask for your love when I can’t offer you either security or the protection of my name.  I was so sure that my cause was just, but if what you say is true, then everything I’m doing is in vain.  If Monmouth wins, we’ll have a Protestant king.  If Monmouth loses as you predict he will, William of Orange will eventually take the throne, and we’ll have a Protestant king.  I believe in what I’m doing, but I’m not fool enough to just throw away my life for nothing.”

“Hugo, what are you getting at?”

“After you went up last night, I sent Archie on an errand, and he returned this morning with a message from the Duke of Norfolk.  The rebellion is imminent; I have done what I set out to do.  Remember what you said to me when you came to warn me?  You said I should sail for France.  I wasn’t prepared to listen to you then, but I will listen to you now.  I still have time to get away, but I will only go if you come with me.  We can be married in France and start our life together.”  He looked so hopeful it nearly broke my heart.

“Hugo, you know I’m not Catholic,” I gently reminded him. 

“Yes, I know.”  He didn’t say anything more, but that was enough.  He was prepared to marry a Protestant.  That was a huge sacrifice for him and showed me the depth of his love for me. 

“Do you really want me that much, Hugo?”

“I want you that much.  And I would gladly prove it to you this minute if I didn’t have Jem waiting for me downstairs.  I’m taking him to the hospital.”

“Is he worse?” I asked, alarmed.  Jem had seemed so much better last night that I’d allowed myself to think that all would be well.  If Jem suffered any lasting effects, it would all be down to me and my confrontation with Lionel Finch.  I couldn’t bear the thought of that little boy being hurt because of my own stupidity.

“No, no,” Hugo reassured me as he saw my panicked face.  “Jem is in fighting spirit this morning and still reminiscing about the jam tart in the hope that I’ll get him another.  I just want to be sure that he’s recovering well before we leave Guildford.  There’s no qualified medical man anywhere near Cranley, so if Jem requires any treatment, this is the place to receive it.  We shan’t be long.” 

Hugo gave me a lingering kiss which made me wish he wasn’t in such a hurry.  He reluctantly drew away and gave me a stern look.  “And please, don’t rush to any conclusions while I’m gone.  Neve, I don’t give my love and take it away a few hours later.  That’s not the kind of man I am, and I know you know that.  I realize you have fears, but where there’s life, there’s hope, and I prefer to believe that we have some say in our destiny.  I’m not a marionette who dances to the bidding of its master.  I will decide what happens to me, and I’ve decided to live.”

“I’m glad to hear it.  Hurry back,” I called after him as he closed the door softly behind him.  Perhaps Hugo was right.  An hour ago I felt as if my world had come crashing down on me, but now, despite my reservations, a flicker of hope was shining like a beacon through the darkness, our future still unknown, but perhaps a little less grim.  I only hoped that Jem was all right, and that was one less thing we had to worry about.

I had no watch, but judging by the bright light pouring through the window it was already midmorning.  I finally got out of bed and opened the window to let in some fresh air.  Sounds of activity instantly filled the room; men calling to each other from their boats on the canal, water lapping gently at the sides as they rowed steadily, the boats filled with anything that needed transporting.  The innkeeper was loudly arguing with someone in the yard, a loaded wagon stacked with barrels just beneath my window and smelling strongly of hops awaiting unloading once the argument was settled.  His wife, ignoring the ruckus in the yard, was hanging out some washing on a line behind the stables and taking advantage of the fine weather to dry her laundry quickly.

I washed my face and hands, brushed my teeth with a willow twig, did up my hair, dressed, and made my way downstairs.  The dining area was deserted, most people having eaten already and either gone about their business or departed the inn for good.  The publican’s wife beamed as she saw me and invited me to sit down at a table by the window, overlooking the busy canal. 

“Good morning to you, Mistress Ashley,” she called out as she wiped her hands on a rag, “I was just hanging out some washing,” she explained, obviously eager for a chat.  “Can I offer you some porridge and a cup of ale?”

She saw my look of dismay at the mention of porridge.  I’d always hated it, doubly so since I’d been forced to eat it nearly every morning for the past two weeks.  It was either soupy and bland or thick and gluey from being reheated so many times. 

“Might there be anything else, Mistress… eh?” I asked timidly, belatedly realizing I didn’t know the woman’s name. 

“Fanny is my name,” she replied, dimpling at me.  “I’m not a one for the porridge either,” the woman confided, giving me a sympathetic nod.  “Does a trick on my bowels, it does, every time.  Why, I can barely make it to the privy in time.”  That was way more information than I needed, but I nodded in understanding, knowing exactly what she was referring to. 

“How about I make you a nice egg?  Would you like that?” 

“Oh, thank you, Fanny.  I’d like that very much,” I gushed, eager for something that wasn’t oats.  Now, if I could only get a cup of tea, I would be in absolute heaven.  I could see why tea had been such a success once it’d been introduced to the masses.  Drinking warm, bitter ale first thing in the morning didn’t compare to a soothing, fragrant cup of strong tea with some sugar and a splash of milk.  And toast.  What I wouldn’t give for a piece of toast.

Fanny was as good as her word.  She brought me a plate of eggs scrambled in bacon grease, a piece of cold pork and a thick slice of bread, liberally buttered and still warm.  I could have kissed her. 

“You enjoy it, love,” she said.  “I’m just in the kitchen if you need me.  Making a tart for the young master,” she said with an indulgent smile.  “He’s a sweet little lad.  Lord Everly was ever so particular about having it ready for him.  “He must have a treat,” he said.  It’s nice to see him take such an interest,” she sighed, conveying that most people didn’t, especially in those less fortunate and of questionable birth.  “Is there something wrong with him then?” she asked, eager for gossip.  “I washed out that bandage for him as his lordship asked.”

“He’d had a nasty fall and hit his head against the wall.”

“Poor mite.  Well, if anyone will sort him out it’s the medicks at the hospital.  I hear they practice all sorts of strange methods of healing.  Goes against God, if you ask me.  But they take care of the elderly, something most folk don’t care to bother with.  Once you’re no longer useful, you might as well be dead, I always tell my husband.  So, he’d better be useful to me for a good, long while.”  She gave me a meaningful smile and finally departed for the kitchen, leaving me to eat in peace. 

I was just finishing my breakfast when Archie came strolling through the door.  “Good morning, Mistress.  Hungry this morning, are you?” he asked, giving me a grin that spoke volumes.  “And his lordship running around looking for fresh flowers at the crack of dawn.  My, I do wonder what you fine folk get up to when we are not looking.”  I knew he was teasing me, but I blushed scarlet, confirming his suspicions. 

“No longer a mistress in name only?” Archie enquired, enjoying my discomfort.  So, he’d guessed.  I wondered if Peter and Arnold knew as well, but somehow I doubted it.  They didn’t seem like the type to question what they’d been told, nor would they care.  They were like a team of oxen: strong, immovable, and indifferent to their surroundings.