Chapter One – John Thornton, manufacturer and magistrate

It was December the 20^th and, for weeks, an Arctic winter held Milton in its clutches. Snow lay 20 inches thick, frozen solid as the temperature didn’t rise above minus 15 C by day.

John Thornton was sitting at his desk in his ice-cold office, trying to work on the Mill’s books.

Many worries were keeping him from his work. There was, of course, Marlborough Mills and its many problems. At least the Mill was prospering, bringing in a steady amount of money from the selling of cotton to the draper’s shops and clothes factories. Yet, when a factory made profit, its workers started clamouring for a raise and that was something John was not prepared to grant. It was far too early to be handing out too much money now. The profit had to be consolidated first, at least over an entire year. Knowing this and making his workers understand were two very different things.

An icy gust blew in when the door opened letting Nicholas Higgins in. He shook the snow from his shoulders and grumbled:

“Bloody ‘ell! What a foul weather it is! And it’s not much better in here, is it? Why don’t you light a fire when it’s that freezing?”

John chuckled.

“Would make the place all nice and cosy, wouldn’t it? No, Nicholas, I need to keep focused in here and a fire would make me doze off which I can’t afford with all the amount of work on my desk. Now, tell me, how’s the mood among our workers?”

“Bit turbulent, I’d say. They know the Mill is making good profit. Moreover, prices of food are exorbitant and coal is unaffordable for most of them. Once Winter will set in for good, and that’s not going to take long, their children will grow sick. Then, they’ll be clamouring for higher wages.”

Sighing deeply, John rubbed his hand through his face.

“I can’t blame them, Nicholas, but I can’t give in either. We’re still staggering between profit consolidation and bankruptcy as it is. I need all the money I can get right now.”

Higgins sharply sucked in his breath and looked John in the eye, in a way that reminded the latter of the man Higgins really was, first a union committee man, before anything else. The glimpse of fierce awareness he caught in Higgins’s glare made John brace himself. Inwardly he prepared himself for battle.

“Master, you know I’ll have to take the workers’ side when it comes to a strike. Me being your Administration Manager must come second to their welfare, I’ve warned you about that.”

With a pinch of disappointment in his heart, John rose from his seat. Higgins always switched back to “master” when he was in union mode, instead of using John’s given name when he was not.

“You do what you have to do, Higgins, I cannot discuss raises right now, it’s out of the question!”

Higgins suddenly grew red in the face and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well, in that case, sir, prepare yourself for another strike!”

Anger welled up in John and he too crossed his arms. Just when he was about to give a caustic response to Higgins’s words, the door opened again and his wife entered.

“My God, how cold …,” Margaret began but stopped when she saw the grim expressions on the two men’s faces. John, she noticed had his “master” face on and Nicholas … well, it had been a long time since she’d seen the union man on him.

“It’s the wage demands again, isn’t it?”, she said softly, loosening her scarf and coat.

John looked at her now but his mouth didn’t relax into a smile.

“Margaret, don’t get involved in …”

“Stop! Don’t go there, John!”, she interrupted him in a trembling voice, “I have a right getting involved! It’s my money supporting this mill, isn’t it? I’m a share holder so let me have my say!”

The sudden hurt in John’s eyes nearly did her in but it was necessary to shock him before he did something stupid like ruining the fine understanding he had with Nicholas Higgins. Margaret took a deep breath and turned towards the older man with a sad smile on her face.

“Nicholas, dear Nicholas, listen. I have a proposition for you.”

At least she had his attention and his goodwill, Margaret saw.

“I want you to speak to the workers tonight and ask them for patience,” she said.

She raised her hand quickly when she saw him open his mouth to retaliate.

“Yes, I know about the meeting you’ve planned at the Lyceum Hall, Nicholas. I talk to people and I listen to them as well. I know there’s much suffering amongst them, especially when the weather is as cold as it is now. At least we can try and relieve part of it, so I’ve hired a dozen women with small children to help out at the infirmary and soup kitchen. There’s Jenny, who can come in and bring her newborn baby with her. It will allow her to feed him at the required times and he’ll be kept warm. Betty will come too, bringing little Alice with her, and she’ll be able to keeping her strength in the last trimester of her pregnancy. These are just a few I’m thinking of. There are loads of women too weak with or after a pregnancy who cannot work. I hope you see my point here, Nicholas? Me and Mary, we are organising an income for the weakest members of our society, allowing them to survive when they are not fit to do factory work.”

She’d got him to listen, Margaret saw, with an avid interest. So she went on.

“Nicholas, talk to them about that at the meeting. You, with your talent to reach out to their hearts, must make them see that it is important to keep funds free for this kind of work first. Later, when things are going to pick up, we can talk about higher wages. First we must care for the weakest members of our society. Our workers will understand when winter lasts and children and mothers grow sick.”

Higgins was smiling at her now and she returned his smile fully.

“Margaret, thank you,” he replied, “you’re right and I will do as you ask. But, John?”

John involuntarily startled when his attention was snatched away from the enthralling sight of his beloved holding up a torch for his workers.

“John,” Nicholas enquired, “give me your word that wages will be raised in time, when Margaret’s projects will be properly organised, because that’s the only thing I’m willing to plead for with my men tonight, that they withhold their demands until the weak are provided for.”

Margaret’s heart clenched in fear seeing all these conflicting emotions crossing John’s face. How come he still didn’t trust Nicholas, or her, for that matter? When it came to Marlborough Mills, John still had a one-tracked mind on letting it come before everything else. She still had a long way to go before he would open his heart for his workers and see their needs.

“Okay, Higgins,” he replied, mouth set in grim determination, “you have my word on those wage raises if you can guarantee me a winter without strikes. Take it or leave it.”

Higgins wetted his lips, drew himself up to his full six feet and said evenly:

“It’s a deal, Master!”

He offered his hand to John who took it in a strong grasp. Turning on his heels Higgins then stalked out of the office room. Margaret felt so relieved that her legs started shaking beneath her. She hastily sat down on one of the wooden chairs and wiped her brow with her handkerchief, only now realising she had been terrified that Nicholas would bristle on John’s haughty reserve.

John’s voice, harsh with suppressed fury, startled her:

“So, Mrs. Thornton, tell me? Which side are you really on? I need to be sure that you’re on mine if I’m to put your money to good use!”

Author: luce@justperioddrama.com

Chapter 20 – Jane, I knew you’d do me good

Prayers are good for mental support but they don’t actually help you out when you are physically in trouble. So I concentrated on trying to revive my husband. I rubbed his chest as hard as I could and I blew into his mouth, hoping to keep him alive with my own breath. How long I kept doing this I don’t recall but eventually I stopped. I was exhausted and my spirits were very low. We would die, all three of us. However, we would not be separated in death. Determined to be as close to him as I could, I positioned myself lengthwise on top of his body. I laid my head on Edward’s chest and closed my eyes.

“Damn and blast, woman! What are you doing, you are choking me!”

A violent fit of coughing sent me sliding off Edward’s body. He sat up abruptly, I could feel it, and shook himself like a wet dog, sprinkling me with a shower of dirt.

“Stop, Edward, stop!”

Then I was laughing and throwing myself against him and kissing him, I was so extremely happy!

He kissed me back and chuckled:

“And I love you too, Jane, don’t worry!”

We laughed and kissed like there was no tomorrow. That’s why we didn’t hear the shouting voice above us at first.

“Sir? Sir, are you there? Mr. Rochester, sir, is that you?”

Norton! They found us! A stream of earth was raining upon us and we hastily crawled away.

“Damn it, Norton! You’re busy burying us alive, would you please take care?”

“Sorry, sir!”

Light! Lovely yellow light from a lamp, no, from many lamps!

“Seems like we’re not yet in St. Peter’s book just now, my little witch! You’d probably scare the wits out of him anyway!”, my rake of a husband said and I swear I could see him smirking, even in the feeble light from above.

A few days later we were all gathered in the drawing room of Ferndean Manor.

There was me and Edward, Adèle, Edwina, Charles Mason and John Eshton, Alice, Keithley and Norton. Also present was Special Constable Jeremiah Jones, acting on behalf of Mr. Justice of the Peace Lord Brackenberry of the Newcastle Royal Court. He had a story to tell.

As soon as Edward had made a formal complaint about the attack of the Ingram women on his life, His Lordship had ordered their arrest. Edwina’s testimony provided him with sufficient ammunition to bring on a lawsuit against them. The two women, however, had made full confessions because it seemed that they were not entirely to blame for the whole miserable affair. The present baron of Ingram Park, Geoffrey Ingram, Blanche’s brother, was Edwina’s father. Apparently he raped poor Adelaide Eshton during a party at her father’s estate when she was barely sixteen years old. He had threatened the innocent, unworldly girl in keeping silent over his despicable feat, convincing her that she would never be believed if she told the truth. Later, when Adelaide and her daughter fled the Blackthorn house and came to live at Ingram Park, he again threatened the poor woman saying he would ravish her daughter if she breathed a word over what had happened. It had been Lady Adelaide’s death. She succumbed, both physically and mentally destroyed.

So, of the once so proud family Ingram, only poor young Mary remained out of His Majesty’s Prison. She was to go and live with an aunt in Hampshire for the rest of her days as it was very unlikely she would make a suitable marriage now.

So, we had reasons enough to celebrate the outcome of all this uproar. Edward cracked several bottles of champagne and we toasted with friends and family.

Edward took me by the hand after Mr. Jones had departed, claiming he was not feeling well enough to stay up too late. Ignoring my mild protests about the presence of our guests, he dragged me with him to our bedchamber. Closing the door firmly behind us, he scooped me up into his arms and carried me to our bed.

“Now, Jane,” he murmured, “will you be so good as to clarify something to me that I do not fully understand?”

His green-grey eyes were full of mischief and I knew where this would lead us.

“Edward,” I answered, “if you want to have marital intercourse with me, just say so. You know I could never deny you.”

It seemed I was wrong. He cupped my face and looked into my eyes in a very serious way.

“No jesting now, Jane, I’m serious. I heard you say something, my adorable little wife, when we were buried in that cellar. Now, since I was in a state of semi-unconsciousness, I do not know if I heard you correctly. You said, and I quote: ‘Don’t leave us, Edward!’ Us, Jane, whatever did you mean by that?”

“Well, Edward, it is all your doing, you know. You have been doing things to me that will have a result in approximately seven months from now and …”

He silenced me with a kiss and I let him.

“Oh, my precious witch, this is the best of news! I insist on you seeing Dr. Woodhouse as soon as possible. Being buried cannot be good for my son!”

“Your son? Why not my daughter? The chances are equal, you know?”

Edward threw his head back and roared with laughter, which vexed me a bit. He seemed so confident!

“No, Jane, you are so wrong in this! We Rochesters do not breed daughters! After all, we are a weak and degenerated lot so we only produce males! A shame for I’m convinced a daughter of ours would be as beautiful as her mother! Now, my sweet own Jane, have I already thanked you for saving my life, again? It seems that I cannot stay alive without your rescue operations, so from now on, I’m not leaving your side anymore. It might prove fatal for me one day!”

“No,” I answered in a dignified manner, desperately trying not to laugh, “you have yet to thank me, Edward.”

My words had barely left my mouth before he pushed me onto our bed, pinning my arms above my head and shoving my skirts upwards with his powerful knee. Then, however, he checked himself. Instead he laid himself down beside me and took me in his arms.

“Jane … how long do you think I can … thank you before …”

“I don’t know for sure, my love, but I think we still have some months full of thanking ahead of us.”

That was all he needed and he applied himself in thanking me most thoroughly.  

 So after a considerable period of time we lay in a close embrace, resting from our exertions and Edward chuckled:

“Jane, I knew you’d do me good. I knew you’d make an honourable man of me, eventually.”

The End.

Author: luce@justperioddrama.com

From tomorrow on I start with a new North & South fan fiction, called “The Milton Chronicles”.

It picks up where “Mr. Thornton takes a wife” ended.

Postings on Thursdays and Fridays on Just Period Drama Blog.

Author: Kat (blueeyedbookworm)

Part 7

I had never seen such compelling eyes…they met mine for a space of time that was probably no more than a couple of seconds, but which felt like much longer. I felt as if they had been able to discern who I was and what I was about, just in those short moments.

As he looked away, I took in the rest of him. He was some few years over twenty, by my guess, and was dressed in the attire of a farmer – his garb was simple and outdated, but clean – and carried a burlap bag over his right shoulder. His build was slim yet strong; he looked accustomed to long days and hard work. He had the dusky, berry-brown skin of someone who spends many hours in the sun, and his head of heavy, dark hair was slightly wavy and complemented his dark coloring. And his face…he did not have the obvious good looks that Mr. Raleigh possessed, but there was something intriguing about his features that made me want to look at his face longer, to figure out the mystery it held.

But I did not so. I gave myself a little shake – what nonsense was this? It was only the novelty and surprise of his coming that made me take notice of him, nothing more. I busied myself with the dinner again as the man walked over to greet his seated cousin after gently fending off the excited attentions of his younger relatives. He leant to give Mrs. Randall a kiss on the cheek and said, “How are you today, dear Nellie?”

“I’m alright, Harris; thank you. My cough is a little better.”

“I’m glad to hear it! I’ve brought you some more potatoes – they should help to keep you for a while.”

“Thank you, Harris! I’m obliged to you, as always.”

I must have been looking in their direction, because Mrs. Randall’s eyes shifted over to me. “Oh! Forgive me, I have not introduced you. Harris, this is Miss Mary Bennet, the one you told me about. Miss Mary, this is my cousin, Harris Fletcher.”

He gave me a cursory glance, and came over to greet me. I hastily wiped it on the rag nearby, and took his hand to shake it. “Well met, Miss Bennet. I thank you for coming to help.” He dropped my hand quickly.

“Please, call me Miss Mary. And it’s my pleasure,” I said. “I’m only glad that I could do my Christian duty.”

“Indeed,” he said, and looked me straight in the eye, making me feel pegged again by his bright green gaze. I found myself blushing unexpectedly, feeling as if my very thoughts were on display for his perusal. A myriad of emotions rose up inside me, attraction not the least among them. But what was I thinking? I did not even know this man, and he didn’t seem to care for me much at all, though he had an even smaller basis on which to judge me than I had of him. Such instant coolness ought to have repelled me, but much to my vexation, it did nothing of the kind. Mr. Raleigh’s face suddenly flashed through my mind and I became angry with myself. How could I even entertain such thoughts of this new man? I already had a suitor; surely that ought to drive thoughts of others from my mind.

Mrs. Randall’s soft voice soon relieved me of Mr. Fletcher’s scrutiny. “Will you stay for supper, Harris?”

“I would like to have the company, but are you sure there will be enough for all of us if I stay?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that; Miss Mary has graciously brought more than enough for everyone, by looks of it.”

“Ah, I see – may I help with the supper, then?”

“Thank you Harris, but I believe Miss Mary has got it sorted already. She and Henry were finishing the vegetables when you knocked.”

“Very well. So you’re going to become a cook, eh, Henry?” He crouched down to the young boy’s level and ruffled his hair. The boy giggled and said, “Miss Mary taught me real good! We made lots o’ fine things!”

“I don’t doubt it, my lad!” said Mr. Fletcher. Suddenly, he said, “Shall we set the table?” His question was directed toward me, his expression somewhat cool.

I dithered for a moment after his abrupt query, and then replied “Oh! Yes, of course. I will help you, and then I must get home for my own supper.”

“But Miss Mary, why do you not stay and sup with us here? We’d love to have you join us.” Mr. Fletcher’s sudden stiffness at Mrs. Randall’s words made me suspect that he did not share this sentiment.

I had expected this invitation, but knew it would be better if I left. For one thing, I did not want to eat any of the food I had brought, as I knew they were in need of all of it. And for another, I had only just met this family – I could not bear the awkwardness of trying to make myself fit into their close-knit circle. It was certainly not the time for such familiarity –, Mr. Fletcher certainly seemed to think so as well, and I had no wish to aggravate him. And, as I told myself, it would not do to spend a length of time across the table from the compelling person of Mr. Fletcher – my thoughts were already out of hand and did not need such encouragement. I would go home, eat with my family, and forget about my wild fancies. I would remember how I ought to comport myself. I was beginning to fear that I had lost reason altogether. This act of charity, originally an attempt at grounding myself, seemed to be having the opposite effect.

I told my mind to hush, and answered Mrs. Randall. “Oh, no; I couldn’t impose upon you in that way. I thank you for your kind offer, but I have come here to help, and do not wish to make a burden of myself.”

Mrs. Randall looked a bit disappointed, but said “If you insist, then, Miss Mary. Perhaps another time.”

I made a noncommittal noise and went about helping to set the table with Mr. Fletcher, who had already half-finished the task. I was reaching across the table to set down some silverware when Mr. Fletcher reached in the opposite direction to put down a tumbler. As I drew back, my hand brushed against his by mistake. He pulled his hand back quickly, though his expression did not change. I tried not to feel offended by this swift motion, but it was difficult.

The job was soon done, and I packed up my things to leave. “Well, I must be going now – I should try to get home before dark. Thank you so much for allowing me to visit you.”

“Thank you, Miss Mary!” said Mrs. Randall warmly. It was so nice to have your help.”

“I’m only glad that I could provide it, Mrs. Randall. I’ll be back on Thursday to see how you are.”

“Until Thursday, then. Children, say goodbye to Miss Mary, please!”

They did so quietly. I received a kind farewell from Mrs. Randall and a short nod from Mr. Fletcher, and I was on my way.

There was plenty to keep my mind busy on the walk home – pity for Mrs. Randall and her two dear children, a wish to get to know them better in the future, satisfaction at a job well done. And, of course, complete confusion about Mr. Fletcher’s behavior, and about my reaction to him. What had caused such aloofness? I couldn’t imagine that I had done anything to offend him. Why had his bright eyes pierced me so accusingly? And why had those same eyes stirred feelings in me that I could not begin to describe or explain?

I was soon in my own home again, and I breathed a sigh of contentment upon my arrival. It was good to be among familiar things. It seemed as though I had been gone longer than just a few hours. And to think that, only this morning, I couldn’t wait to leave the confines of these echoing walls. It seemed that this new project was indeed exactly what I needed. I congratulated myself on my apt choice.

I could hear the sounds of supper beginning in the dining room, and made my way there with haste. All the walking I had done today had built up quite an appetite. Before I reached the door, however, I was stopped by my father’s man, who was holding something square and white in his hand. My heart started beating excitedly. Ah, yes, my heart. Now you remember. Now you put your attentions where they ought to be.

“Miss Mary,” said the servant, “you’re come so late that I couldn’t give you this before, but this arrived for you earlier today.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hill!” I took the missive from him eagerly. Sure enough, there was Mr. Raleigh’s smooth, elegant hand on the front of the envelope. God bless him…just when I most needed a reminder of him, a new letter had come. I ate my dinner hurriedly and rushed off to my room to read his message. It had the same happy and mildly flirtatious tone as always, and it warmed my heart. Especially when I read this line – “Our business in London continues to go well. I find myself less busy lately than I was a few weeks ago. This circumstance has made me dare to hope with more strength what I have tried to keep myself from hoping ever since I arrived here – that perhaps, in a few weeks, I may see your face and the fine neighborhoods of Meryton and Longbourn once again.”

Could it be? Would he really visit soon? How wonderful it would be to see his handsome face and hear his laugh as it cheered up this too-quiet place. All thoughts of the enigmatic Mr. Fletcher were forgotten, and I went to bed that night with a light heart and a hopeful spirit. Thank goodness things felt as though they had been put to rights once again.

End Part 7

Chapter twenty-six

A dark sunrise

Our trip so far wasn’t as bad and dangerous as I thought it would be. No one tried to kill us or… rape me or any of that awful stuff, at least not yet.

When we passed the dangerous villages we just tried to stay shaded and out of trouble. We never entered a battle field or even passed close by it. We would walk as far away from it as possible. And we did the same thing even in the peaceful villages; always stayed away and quiet. We went to all the shelters and houses and asked quietly about my parents. But there seemed to be no trace of them anywhere. No one heard anything about them or saw them.

The worst part of it all was when we had to stop and sleep at night. We couldn’t ask people to let us in their houses for two reasons; first we already knew how hard and almost impossible for people to take two strangers in, in these crazy times. The Schelldens were an exception as they were really the only people who accepted us. Second; because it might draw special attention towards us if we stop for one or two nights max in someone’s house or at a shelter and then leave and keep doing that in so many villages. it will be a norm that will leave trace and rise a lot of questions; and that we did not want happening.

I was once again forced to sleep in dark, scary, forests, full of creepy voices and sounds. I hated that most and feared it a lot. I had the worst memories of previous experiences in such situations.

Although Christopher was always beside me and so close to me I still felt uneasy… he would stay awake until I went to sleep. I woke him up so many times as soon as I wake up after hearing some strange sound around. He would get up and look around and tell me that it’s most probably some kind of a squirrel, that there is nothing I should be worried about and that I should just try to relax and get back to sleep.

Nothing worked, nothing made me feel better or less scared but I had to endure and continue for the sake of finding my parents and seeing their faces again and feeling their warm and loving arms caressing me.

“So, it isn’t very bad is it?” said Christopher smiling at me

Before I replied, a man came running towards us; an old man. He came and started screaming at Christopher.

“Shame on you boy, shame on you” he shouted.

“What is it?” I shouted at him angrily.

Christopher grabbed my hand and hid me behind him. I tried and failed to… appear again and talk to the man.

“What is it old man?” said Christopher calmly.

I was very impressed with how he handled it and how calm he was able to speak with a man who was shouting at him and speaking to him in a very impertinent manner.

“You are here just walking around while you’re brothers are dying out there, you can help son, you can help, we don’t want to lose this war”

Christopher suddenly said angrily “They are not my brothers… I have no one old man… you seem to have lost people in this vicious war; otherwise you wouldn’t be as angry as this… I have no one to fight for and I will not fight” Christopher said and started walking ignoring the old man while I followed of course and the old man kept shouting from behind us “Shame on you, shame on you, you will regret this one day young man”

I didn’t speak about it at all with Christopher as I could see the anger and uneasiness in his eyes.

I didn’t know how to feel about what Christopher said to the old man. I didn’t know if I should hate him or admire him, agree or disagree with him… I just didn’t know, I didn’t think about it and I didn’t want to think about it as I was just grateful to have him safe with me… Humans are selfish… we only care about those whom we love… … No, that’s not true… I care about people, I swear I do but what could I do and what could Christopher do. War was happening and no one could stop it… one man can do nothing facing the huge numbered armies of the enemy. That’s enough; I must concentrate on my parents now.

The part I despised was here again. I had to endure yet another night in the forest beside the village we were in… We hadn’t finished looking for my parents in this village yet; we still had just a few more places to search in.

We went to sleep and I did too, I was able to sleep as this forest was closer to the village than usual. It wasn’t very… isolated.

This time what really bothered me and made me feel uneasy was the morning after I woke up. I usually felt good in the mornings. I felt such a relief that we were safe still, that the dangerous night time was finally over. Sunrise has always had a great soothing effect on me but this time it was different, it was the opposite. This time I was terrorised as soon as I opened my eyes as I heard screams and cries instead of the beautiful whistling of birds.

Christopher woke up a short while after I did.

“What is it, what’s that?” he asked worriedly looking at me with barely open and sleepy eyes.

“I don’t know; it’s coming from the village, let’s go and check” I said starting to stand up. Christopher grabbed my hand preventing me from standing and said.

“What happened to being safe and away from danger?”

“We can just take a look from behind the trees, no one would see us” I replied.

I just couldn’t ignore the loud screams. Women were very painfully screaming and children crying.

“I just couldn’t go without at least trying to see what the cause of it was. Who knows we might be able to help, even if just a little… besides, what if my parents were there, amongst the screamers?” I explained to Christopher with nervousness showing strongly on my face.

“Alright, we will just take a look from far away and you stay behind me” he replied.

We walked towards the voices and looked from behind the trees. It was very hard for me to look. Men were lead by soldiers to be hanged. There were at least twenty of them. People screaming and crying all around them, begging the soldiers to let their sons, fathers, friends and husbands go but it was hopeless. Soldiers were all over the place… there were at least fifteen of them surrounding the men who were to be hanged from every angle. Men were going to be hanged in front of the whole village; how brutal and inhumane it was. I can imagine how these screamers and criers feel as I put myself in their shoes.

Tears started falling down my cheeks. It was such an unpleasant scene to witness. I started scanning the crowds with my eyes in the hope of finding my parents. I prayed that my eyes wouldn’t spot them, not now, not here. I prayed that I wouldn’t see my father in the line of the -to be hanged men-.

“Do not try to stop me or follow me Abigail, just go back to where we slept and wait for me there. I promise to be back soon” Christopher whispered and started running away from me and closer towards the dead men walking.

I didn’t have time to say or do anything as it took me a while, a long while to understand what he meant. He whispered those words very quickly and left even more quickly that I didn’t have time to reply or react in any way. Once again I was left behind, but this time I could see him, my eyes were not covered with my hands, they were wide open and free to witness the image of the back of Christopher walking away from me.  I was watching Christopher walking away from me and… Leaving me, once again I was helpless and scared and… Alone.

Chapter twenty-five

An unpleasant surprise

Things were very strange. It wasn’t like we were visiting different villages and towns in the same country. It was as if we were moving between worlds so apart and so very far away from each other. One village would be a battle field, firing up with the sounds of sharp swords. The ground is drowning with blood and the air poisoned with the ugliness of war. While the situation is very different in another village were peace and quiet are what occupies it. I wonder what will happen to our village; where Christopher and I have been living for the last long months. I wonder what will happen to my dearest Mr and Mrs. Schellden

We were arriving at a peaceful village. And as usual, we were asked to show our papers as all the peaceful villages were so far sadly occupied by The Normans and they would inspect every single person to leave or enter the village. As soon as I lifted up my eyes and looked at the soldier while handing him my papers I lost the ability to breathe. I was frozen and way more scared than I have ever been before.

It was Artus; that man who almost killed Christopher; that man whom Christopher killed in front of my eyes. That man whose blood was all over Christopher’s face and clothes. It was him and there was no doubt about it.

“Do you want me to come closer to you sweet heart and take your papers myself?” These were the first words he mouthed and it made me even more horrified. It was Artus; the same looks, the same big and potent body, the same voice. I could never forget this harsh unsettling voice.

I was still frozen with the papers stuck in my hand when Christopher took the papers from me immediately and handed them to Artus or Artus’s ghost as far as I was concerned. Christopher grabbed my arm and squeezed it strongly with his hand. I looked at him and took a breath when he looked at me with his soothing eyes and nodded. I was very confused, why was Christopher acting very normal and cool? Why was Artus acting that way? Why didn’t he recognise us but then I understood everything in a rush of thoughts. Artus didn’t die that day. He must have had amnesia as a result of Christopher’s hits with that mighty rock and now he has recovered everything but he still can’t remember anything.

I was much relieved to think that way and understand everything. I was still terrified just by the look of him but well; at least he didn’t remember us. I was barely able to breathe the whole time until Artus and the other soldier gave us back our papers and we were free to go. I looked at Christopher as soon as we started walking away from the two soldiers. He didn’t look at me; he only held my hand strongly and dragged me behind him faster and faster. I kept going silently not to draw anyone’s attention to us specially Artus’s, but when we we were far enough and when I made sure that he and the other soldier couldn’t hear us or even see us anymore, I stole my hand back and let go of Christopher’s.

“What, you have nothing to say, you aren’t a bit surprised?” my voice must have been very loud as people around us paused for a moment and looked at us. Once again Christopher dragged me. This time he whispered “Come, we’ll talk there”

He lead me to a small bench in a very quiet and empty side of the village.

“It’s not Artus” Christopher whispered as soon as we sat down.

“What?”

“I know you think it’s him and I sure trembled for a second when I first saw him but it’s not him so…”

“Christopher what are you saying?”

“Artus is dead; this is his brother… his twin brother”

“What?” that was the only word I was able to say as I was shocked and confused.

“Artus is dead, I killed him remember?” Christopher reassured.

“Yes, yes of course I remember. How can I ever forget that?”

“So what’s the problem then?”

I thought for a while and I knew what the problem was as things started coming back to me.

“Christopher… how do you know his name?”

“What?”

“You called Artus by his name that day and you… he… he said you used to… share things… with him and… and now you know about a twin brother! …” I didn’t know what else to say, I didn’t really understand anything, I didn’t conclude anything either. I was confused and lost. As I asked these questions I couldn’t believe that it was just the first time I ever asked them. I must have been very strongly shocked when these unfortunate and… … Deadly events took place that I didn’t even notice anything weird or unexplained about Christopher and Artus’s relationship.

Christopher was very silent. He had lowered his head and covered it with his palms.

“Christopher look at me please… answer me”

Silence controlled over for minutes but then Christopher lifted up his head, looked at me and started talking.

“Artus was one of the soldiers who… occupied our village” he started explaining.

“The village where I used to live with… with my parents… and he… well, I used to… he used to come into my house and take whatever he wanted, he slept in my house and ate their and, he was practically living there as if it was his house more than it was mine…and it was done by force… I couldn’t do anything about it. It was either that or death so… … … you see I was… we lived together for a long time and he used to talk to me… all the time and tell me things… he told me about his twin brother but I never met him before… that’s why he didn’t recognize me which is really very fortunate… I’m so glad to have never met him before… … … after a while of sharing my house with him I couldn’t take it any longer, so I left… … and the rest is history”

I listened to Christopher without interrupting and I felt sad for him. I tried to imagine how hard it must have been for him to have a stranger, not any stranger but an enemy taking over his village and his house, his own house. I sympathised with him and I just wanted to do something, to somehow try to make him feel better. The only thing I could do was leaning closer to him, holding his shoulders, and whispering “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through” in his ears.

I felt strange. Christopher and I have shared a long time together and we barely knew each other. I wanted to know more about this fearless and strong yet very sad and mysterious man.

Chapter 19 – Our Father who art in Heaven

The words of the prayer whispered through my befuddled brain and I kept repeating them because it gave me mental strength.

“Our Father … who art in Heaven … hallowed be Thy name …”

I could not possibly be dead!

My body ached with cuts and bruises. I was cold and wet and … oh Heaven, I could breathe again!

However, it was pitch black all around me and I was shivering. I was also still bound on hands and feet. I moaned with pain in my back and shoulders as soon as I tried to move.

“Jane … Jane?”

“Edward … is that you?”

Suddenly his mouth was on mine and, of all things, we kissed. We just kissed and our kiss was dear to us like life itself. After a long time we had to draw breath eventually but we lay panting against each other and laughing and kissing again.

“Where are we? What happened?”, I asked.

“We are in a cellar under the cottage, darling. I think the house has crashed above us and the floor must have collapsed. Are you alright? Can you move?”

To my astonishment I found that I could move! Now that the smoke was gone, I could again breathe properly and that seemed to have restored at least part of my strength.

“Yes, I can move, Edward. And, if my hands were free I would slap you! I thought they shot you, I thought you were dead!”

He laughed! He just laughed that infuriating laugh of his and I screamed, overcome with helpless frustration!

“Shhh! Shhh, calm yourself, my little cat! I sensed all along that Beaver’s long absence meant something fishy was afoot so I used a little trick I learned in my West Indies days. I put a piece of armour around my chest under my shirt and a cow blather full of cow’s blood above it. That’s what you saw when the bullet hit it. However, I was knocked unconscious with the bullet’s impact and it hurts like hell.”

I kissed him again, all too happy that he was alive.

“We must find a way to get out of this.”

“We will, Jane, we will. Listen, the first thing to do is to free ourselves from these wretched bonds but I have no idea how we are to do that.”

“Wait a moment, Edward. I am going to try something.”

 The way I was lying told me that I was facing Edward so I turned my back to him.

“There!”, I said, “Now try unfastening my bonds, Edward!”

My husband’s chuckle rumbled in the darkness but I could feel his fingers working on the rope around my hands. It took a lot of time but eventually my wrists loosened and I was able to wriggle them free.

“Oh, how wonderful! Give me a minute, darling. I must restore the circulation.”

“Not too long, I hope!”, Edward answered, “Untie me, Jane, my hands are tingling.”

It was not long before we had freed ourselves completely. We were even able to sit upright.

“Stay where you are, sweetheart, I’m going to make a little reconnaissance tour around this hellhole.”

I heard Edward moving about on hands and feet for a while. God! How tired I was! And hungry, thirsty, cold, damp and probably very filthy too. Then I remembered my sickness and the way I had vomited, so abruptly and so violently. I was still feeling weak and nauseated.

“Jane, come this way, please?”

When I reached Edward, he took my hand.

“Here, do you feel that? It’s a draft of fresh air. We must try and dig ourselves out. Can you help me? But, my love, do be careful, I don’t want to be buried alive.”

We started digging, plunging our hands in the dirt at the spot where the draft was coming from. It was hard work. This is how we did it; Edward peeled away the earth, gave it into my hands and I piled it up somewhere behind me. Slowly and carefully we worked until we could feel the draft getting stronger, as the hole grew larger.

“Back away, my darling!”, Edward croaked, his throat surely as dry as mine was.

“What? What are you going to do?”, I asked, suddenly unsure.

“Worm myself through this hole! I want to know where this is leading to.”

Without giving me the chance to say more, I heard his grunt when he heaved himself upwards. A dull thud, followed by a cloud of dust into my face, told me my worst fear had come true: the hole had collapsed!

“Edward! Edward, where are you? Speak to me! Edward!”

There I was, groping around blindly in the absolute darkness and encountering nothing but damp earth! It was like moving around in a grave! My husband was there, somewhere, buried alive! I had to find him! So I shook off every other thought. I probed and brushed, desperately trying to remember where I had heard his voice the last time. It looked like ages but eventually my fingers came upon his body and it was buried from the waist up! In frantic despair I began brushing away whatever dust and earth I could, mainly searching for his face. There! That was his head!

“Edward!”

I kept on screaming his name, I wanted him to answer me, to show me that he was alive!

His mouth, his nose! I hastily wiped my hands on my blouse and handkerchief as best as I could and started freeing his mouth and nose. It was the work of a madwoman; I could see nothing, it was pitch-dark. I could only feel and all the time my prayers went up to whatever God might deign to hear them.

“Edward! Please, Edward, answer me! Please, don’t leave me, don’t leave us, please …”

Yes, there was a chance that I might be with child. Were we to perish in this hole all three of us and was Edward never to know he was to be a father?

So I prayed, more than I had ever done in my life … Our Father, who art in Heaven …”

 Author: Luce

luce@justperioddrama.com

Chapter 18 – Burn the witch

A choking smoke was rapidly filling the small low-ceilinged room of the cottage and I knew I should try and get out. I did not move. My courage failed me for without Edward, lying dead beside me, nothing mattered to me anymore.

Why? Why was he taken from me? I could not understand why we were not allowed to enjoy a happy life together. Sobs were raking my chest as I realized only one thing: Edward was dead!

They had shot him through the heart and I was left alone to die a horrible death.

Lying on my stomach, unable to move, I felt the fabric of Edward’s wet coat under my cheek. At least I was grateful for that; I would die with my head close to Edward’s heart. I closed my eyes and tired to breathe. Smoke was choking me and causing me to cough but the coughing brought me no solace. My eyes were stinging now and a sudden impulse to fight made me move my head higher upon Edward’s chest. It only made me cough harder.

The heat from the flames was reaching a dangerous level now. The fire had set the thatched roof alight and pieces of it were falling down. I was now so terrified that I crept closer to Edward as if searching for protection. I was screaming in horror and sobbing and coughing in sheer panic!

“Damn it, Jane! Will you give me some space here? It’s hard enough to breathe in this vile smoke without you burying me with your body, no matter how lovely a prospect that may be!”

Violent coughing accompanied this outburst of Edward’s and I lifted my head. He was alive!

“Edward … how …?” A fit of coughing cut my words.

“Not now, Jane! Move over!”

He grunted and tried to sit up and only now I noticed that he too was bound hands and feet.

All I could see just then was the ugly red stain on his chest and the next second I was retching uncontrollably. The contempt of my stomach forced its way up into my throat and I was violently vomiting … water, for I had not eaten since breakfast. I gasped for breath and vomited again. Panting and heaving I lay with my face in the dust, sick and miserable.

“Sweetheart, Jane, darling, come on, we have go get out of here …”

I wanted to move, I wanted to follow Edward’s coaxing voice but the strength failed me. There was no air left in the room, only smothering smoke.

My husband turned his back to me and shouted between coughs:

“Give me your hands, darling! Alright, that’s it! Just cling to my hands, never let go!”

He grasped my bound hands with his and squeezed them tight. With a grunt of effort he then shoved himself forward, first thrusting his legs in the direction of the door, then pulling his buttocks towards his feet, and dragging me along with him in the process. I was a dead weight but could do nothing about it. I was so ill and weak I barely managed to stay conscious and the coughing was raking my body even more. The fact that he had to take my weight with him with every shove was considerably and quickly draining Edward. His laboured breathing became heavier by the minute.

“Jane … sweetheart … you have to help me, we’re not going to make it!”

“I … I … cannot … breathe …”

“Yes, you can! Take shallow breaths, come on, you can do it!”

I did as he asked and it helped … a little.

“Come on, my brave witch, we have to get on our feet now. Hold on to my hands. Good girl! Now put your back firmly against mine, yes, that’s it! Pull your feet up and … now push upwards!”

I failed, my legs were numb and my lungs ached from the lack of oxygen.

“Jane, will you please stop being such a weakling and do as I tell you to! Damn it, woman, I don’t want to die just yet!”

Fury rose in my chest when he spoke like that to me and well he knew it! The next time I succeeded and we were standing on our two, tightly bound legs.

But Fate had other things planned for us. With a rumbling sound like far away thunder, the roof slowly came crashing down on us and everything went black. 

Author: Luce

luce@justperioddrama.com

Author: Kat (blueeyedbookworm)

Part 6

It felt like an eternity had passed since the weddings. The Bennet house was now the quietest it had ever been in living memory. It was just my parents and me now – Kitty’s plan to leave home in “months” had turned into “two weeks after Jane’s honeymoon ended,” and I was now the only Bennet daughter still left at home. For a while, I reveled in it; I had plenty of space, quiet, and time whenever I wanted it, and was free to study and practice as much as I chose, except for the odd moment when Mama would ask me to help her with something. Papa left me to my own pursuits and I left him to his – nothing had changed in that respect.

As lovely as the novelty of being alone most of the time was at first, however, things quickly started to grow tedious. I would pick up a book only to get bored with it. I would take up my sewing only to get frustrated when it became a mess of knots because I wasn’t paying it close enough attention. And the silence, which was so welcome and comforting at first, soon became an annoyance – almost like a constant, grating sound in itself. When I couldn’t stand the quiet anymore, I would sit at the pianoforte and forcefully play a few of my most difficult pieces. But
even this was somehow disheartening; the music seemed to echo off of the walls with a harsh, lonely sound, the likes of which it had never before produced.

My ennui was lifted once in a while by the arrival of one of Mr. Raleigh’s promised letters. My heart leapt whenever the maid brought me one of them when the morning post came, and I struggled with inner arguments each time it occurred. Really, I ought not to let myself get so carried away. A few letters do not necessarily signify anything. One kiss does not a courtship make. However, when it is the only kiss a girl has received, it is difficult for her to put it from her mind. But I needed to keep my dreaming under control, for perhaps he would soon tire of me and then forget about me altogether, and then where would I be? Just a lonely, silly girl, waiting vainly on thwarted hopes. No, I must keep my wits about me so that I would not be crushed by the weight of disappointment when the letters, sooner or later, trickled to a stop.

In spite of my pessimism, however, the letters kept coming. The first had arrived a mere week after Mr. Raleigh’s hurried removal to London. Three more had followed throughout the course of the following weeks, and I alternated them with my own responses to him. I had made a point in my first letter to him to apologize for having forgotten to return his book to him before he left and to write that I would send it to him on the next post if he wished. And then immediately worried that he would think I were trying to have done with him by releasing this last tangible bit that he had left behind with me. Thankfully, he did not seem to think any such thing in his next letter; he pressed me to keep the book and finish it – as he was still anxious to hear my opinion of it – and saying that he would collect it from me when next we met. I tried not to be inordinately pleased by this last bit of information, but it proved quite difficult.

Mr. Raleigh’s letters were kind and occasionally teasing, just like his conversation. They were not overly intimate, which I was thankful for. But when he wrote things like, “I find myself already tired of London society. I long to be back with you, to talk with you and see you laugh again at my poor attempts at humor, and to spend time in the company of one with such a rare mind and steady spirit,” my heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster and my cheeks couldn’t help but feel a little warmer.

Indeed, the letters made little bright holes in the gray cloud obscuring my vision, but I still longed for real sunlight once again. I searched for it for many weeks, but did not find it in the dormant rooms of our home. However, in the midst of my doldrums, Opportunity winked at me unexpectedly one Sunday morning. It happened when the minister spoke to us about the tragedy of poverty in our society, and a need for us to take action to help our brothers and sisters to climb up out of the pit of need. He had made many a similar sermon before, and I had felt sad but had never thought more about it. For some reason, though, it made me sit up and pay attention that day, and I got to thinking. Of course – I could go into town to help a poor family! It would be just the thing to get me out of that dull, quiet house. And besides, it was only right for a Christian of my station to humble myself and offer what I could to those less fortunate. I wondered that I had not thought of it before.

I spoke with the minister directly after church, enquiring whether he knew of any family nearby that was in need of a service that could perhaps provide.

“As a matter of fact, I know just the one!” he said amiably, seeming delighted that his sermon had taken such an obvious effect. “A young woman by the name of Nellie Randall lost her husband recently, and took sick soon after. The grief has made her weak and slow to recover, poor child, and she is finding it difficult to care for her two small children. Her cousin comes to help her sometimes, but he has his own work to manage and cannot always spare the time. If you are able to visit Nellie a day or two a week and assist her with looking after the children and some of the cooking, I’m sure it would be a great help to her.”

“I would be delighted!” I said. “I felt compelled today by your sermon – I believe it is time to do my duty in this way.”

“Bless you, child,” said the minister. We talked over some more of the details, and by the time I left with my parents, I had a plan to make my first visit on Tuesday next. My heart lifted a little as I thought about this opportune chance to make myself useful and perhaps influence a life or two in the process.

~*~

Tuesday arrived before I knew it, and I set out from home with a burgeoning basket under my arm and determination in my mien. Mrs. Randall’s house was a bit of a walk from my own, but I was quite used to walking, just like my sisters, and was not daunted by this prospect. Once I arrived in town, I made my way toward Mrs. Randall’s home, noticing that the houses looked more and more worn as I went. My destination was a few minutes’ walk outside of the town limits, so I was obliged to walk by several groups of grubby children playing in the streets and neighbors shouting across the way to each other. It was certainly a different place than my own neighborhood. But it occurred to me that perhaps people who must work so hard for their living cannot spare the time to worry about manners.

Before long, I was at the end of a little earthen path, where stood a little grey and sagging cottage. I knocked briskly on the door, and it was opened, but no one appeared to be standing there. I was confused for a moment until I looked down and saw a little brown-haired boy of about five looking up at me with a solemn expression that said he was taking this job very seriously. I stifled the laughter that threatened to bubble up at the sight of his adorable, serious face, and said “Hello there – may I speak with your mother?”

He nodded, and turned away from me, still holding the door open. “Mama, there’s a girl here an’ she wants to see you. I dunno who she is.”

I heard a soft chuckle coming from the back of the room. “It’s alright, Henry, let her come in.”

“Mama says you can come in,” said Henry.

Again, I had to stifle a chuckle before saying “Thank you,” and entering the dim little room. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw that it was a clean, sparse place that looked reasonably well-kept in spite of the owner’s ill health. The lady of the house sat on an ancient-looking rocking chair, propped up with a pillow and shrouded in a couple of blankets that had seen better days. Mrs. Randall was petite and had a young-looking face that had probably once been round and cheerfully rosy, but which was now quite faded and pale. Her hair was limp, and she had a look about her of not quite fitting into her own skin which suggested that she had lost a fair bit of weight due to her illness.

“Hello, Mrs. Randall, my name is Miss Mary Bennet. The minister told me that you were in need of help and that I could be of some service to you.”

“Ah yes, Miss Bennet! He’s told my cousin to tell me you were coming. Welcome to our home! I’m sorry, I’m afraid it’s not much…I haven’t been able to tend it like before, you see.” She coughed a few times and then caught her breath again.

“Oh, that’s quite all right, Mrs. Randall. I’m told you’ve had some difficult times.”

She smiled sadly. “Yes, I daresay we have. But the good Lord sustains us.”

“Indeed,” said I, “God always cares for the needy, if their hearts are true to Him.”

“Yes…” she said. Her smile seemed strained now, for some reason.

I remembered the basket on my arm. “I’ve brought you a few things – perhaps they will do for a meal or two. Where shall I put them?”

“Just on the table there, Miss Bennet. Thank you so much for bringing them. And thank you for coming!”

“Oh, please, call me Miss Mary,” I said, walking over to the table and beginning to arrange various food items upon it. “And it’s my pleasure to help – I’ve grown tired of knocking about at home, and wanted to be of use to someone. Besides, it’s my Christian duty to help the less fortunate, as I have been blessed with more than enough.”

“Ah…I see,” said Mrs. Randall.

I heard a scuffling sound coming from one of the two other rooms in the house. Mrs. Randall turned her head in the direction of the noise and said, “Henry! Louisa! Come here and meet our visitor!”

More scrambling noises followed this request, and in a moment, there were two children standing shyly beside their mother’s chair. Henry still looked surprisingly businesslike for such a small child, and his younger sister looked wide-eyed and curious about this stranger in her home.

“You’ve already met Henry,” said Mrs. Randall. “And this is Louisa. Children, this is Miss Mary. She’s going to be visiting sometimes to help me. Can you tell her hello?”

They both did so quietly, looking at their mother to see if they had done a satisfactory job. She nodded at them and then looked over in my direction.

“Henry, why don’t you go and help Mary make some dinner?”

We began the dinner preparations – well, mostly I began them, and I taught Henry how to do little things here and there. We were starting to get quite absorbed in our work, talking with Mrs. Randall all the while, while Louisa played near her mother’s feet. I even got Henry to laugh once, which I felt quite proud about.

We were just finishing up the last touches to the meal when I heard it – a knock at the door. Henry heard it as well and ran to open the door. He looked rather less grave than he had with me – it seemed as if he knew who was coming. He flung open the door, saying excitedly “Cousin Harris!”

I looked up to see who this Harris was, whom Henry was so overjoyed to see.

And the most stunning, piercing green eyes I had ever beheld locked onto mine.

End Part 6

Chapter twenty-four

Promise

I was taking my first farthest steps away from the Schelldens’ home and out of their garden when my heart started achingly beating. The reason behind those unfriendly beats wasn’t only sadness for loosing another family and leaving yet another home behind once more but also fear, fear for not only my parents and myself this time as I had a third party to be worried about their safety. Christopher has become dear to me and the thought of losing him was too much of a burden. I was scared beyond comprehension, even more, much more than the first trip I had with Christopher. Why? Because the first time, I had no idea about what was ahead of me. I had no clue what dangers awaited me, what troubles and fears were yet for me to experience. But this time I knew everything, I knew what to expect. I still remembered the horrors I felt and the nightmares that came out to life and haunted me. I still haven’t fully recovered from them, not nearly recovered. I believe such horrors need a life time for one to recover from. So this time it is much worse, much harder, and much scarier.

It was also fear of the unknown and of the anticipated. I had no idea where my parents were and in what status they were either and that terrified me. I was eager to find out but also scared and not very enthusiastic because sometimes ignorance is a bless. I spent all the last months ever since I lost them preparing for this trip and praying for it to begin, believing that it’s a must. Believing that it’s the only way I could ever find my parents. I looked at this journey as a beacon of hope shining through and lighting my way until I find them and be with them again.

And now when it has finally arrived it was freaking me out. I wonder how I would feel if I find out that something bad happened to them, if they were on the face of the earth no longer. I don’t think I would feel anything as I truly believe that this dreadful news will be the death of me.

The two of us, Christopher and I were entirely on our own in this journey and I kept thinking that should anything happen to Christopher I would be all alone and so I will eventually fail on my mission. I kept thinking that Christopher is the one who is in danger as he always insists on protecting me and facing troubles and dangers instead of me. But I can’t let that happen, I can’t stand aside and watch him get hurt.  Not this time. I will do my best to protect him as much as he does me.

“So, where are we going?” I asked Christopher, breaking the long silence.

“Hmmm… We will visit all the towns and villages that we can enter of course and just look for them and ask around” he replied

Silence was back for awhile as I was thinking and then I said.

“Christopher, I want you to promise me something”

“What?” he said looking at me and slowing down.

I sighed and said “Promise me that you will not let anything bad happen to you”

Christopher looked away, stopped walking, held my hands and then whispered “Don’t be scared Abigail, I will do my best to protect you, I won’t let anything happen bad to you and I will always…”

“That’s not what I asked of you” I interrupted. “I said you; don’t let anything bad happen to you Christopher”

“Yes, yes sure”

 “No, no that’s not enough” I insisted.

Christopher let go of my hands and started walking again. I followed quickly and stood in front of him preventing him from walking.

“Do you have to give me a hard time all the time?”

“What, what do you want? I can’t understand you’re wish”

“Yes you can but you don’t want to”

“If you are asking me to not protect you as hard as I can then yes you are right I don’t want to understand”

I was angrier and even more worried than ever. This is exactly what I feared; Christopher putting himself in danger for my sake.

“Don’t do that to me Christopher… just give me some piece of mind will you?”

“When will you understand Abigail? … You’re safety is what matters to me. When you’re safe I’m safe, when you’re happy and comfortable I’m happy and comfortable”

Yes I was flattered by his magical, too good to be true words but I was still not satisfied.

“And I am when you are Christopher so let’s just say that we will both take good care of ourselves for the sake of each other… If anything happens to you I will…” I chocked while saying these scary words.

He looked at me smiling for a short moment, held my hand and started walking again. I followed asking him.

“What is it, why are you smiling?”

“Nothing I just remembered the beginning of our first journey and how different it was”

“You mean that I wanted you dead and that getting rid of you was my only wish?” I joked.

“I guess that sums it all up yes”

I smiled saying.

“So even now you have to vex me and argue with me on everything don’t you?”

“Where would be the fun if I don’t” he replied teasing. I couldn’t help but smile.

“I hope we find my parents soon… I wish that we searched for them a long time ago… Oh how guilty I feel for allowing such a long time to pass without…”

“Try to think positively Abigail” Christopher interrupted. “Stop being so very melancholy and start believing that you will be reunited with your family soon”

“I wish I can…”

“You can. You must… Abigail when you want something very badly and you believe that you will get it, you will get it… I believe that and so should you”

I stopped talking and thought about what Christopher said. I decided to try and start applying it, it took me some time to be able to, but after a while of pretending, it stopped being pretending and it became real, and indeed I found it very useful and helpful when I applied Christopher’s trick. I stopped being very sad and I was snatched out of the depths of despair. I was even less scared and much less worried about our journey.

Chapter twenty-three

Goodbyes

“Christopher… Are you ready to leave tomorrow?” I started with my conversation that was supposed to help fire the tension out of the room and get things back to normal or at least less abnormal.

“No, are you?” Christopher replied smiling. I smiled back.

“I guess you can never be ready for such a trip”

“I told you, you don’t have to go”

“I do Christopher. I do… you’re the one who really doesn’t have to go”

“Stop saying that”

“No I won’t… I feel guilty for… forcing this upon you, it’s like…”

“Stop…”

“I’m sure I can manage alone, I’ll try to stay away from danger and…”

“I’m going with you Abigail and the only thing that would ever stop me from that is death. So as long as I’m breathing I will be beside you, helping you all along the way”

“You’ve already done allot for me…”

“Abigail… …” Christopher interrupted me. Kept silent for a while and then continued.

“We will find them… together, Ok?”

“So you believe that we will find them, that they are alive still?”

“Yes, I do believe that, so just stop worrying”

I breathed in and looked into Christopher’s eyes and tears were starting to betray mine. I suddenly felt so much… … love for him and I unconsciously moved my face closer to his, so close and whispered.

“Thank you”

I kept moving closer and closer towards him. I glanced at his lips and at that moment I was ready, willing and able to feel the warmth of his lips on mine. To link our lips together and kiss him passionately but it didn’t happen as Christopher moved away before my face and my lips reached his and turned his back to me.

“Good night” he whispered.

“Yes, we should get some sleep” I replied closing my eyes while my mind stayed active and vivid for long afterwards. Once again my thoughts took me far, far away.

I got a bit angry, well no, not angry but confused. I believed that Christopher wanted to kiss me and even more but when I approached him and tried to touch him he pulled away and went to sleep. As much as I got used to Christopher I still felt confused about him most of the time. He was always full of mysteries, full of secrets and weird, things. He has always said and done things that were unexplained and unexpected. Sometimes I feel like he likes me, loves me even and some other times I could swear that he hates me. I hate that, I hate being confused and I hate not understanding the person I’m sharing my life with, even if I was sharing a small bit of my life with him, a very small bit that might not continue. My life with my parents was completely different. My life with them was simple, obvious and very, very open. We used to talk about everything. We had no secrets what so ever. I miss that; I miss the simplicity and safety… I miss the peace of mind and the unconscious, relaxing, and peaceful sleeping at nights. Well; my nights weren’t perfect there either, I’ve always been troubled by war and conflicts and danger around me but still it wasn’t as bad, it was always better because I was comforted by the fact that my parents were sleeping next door; looking after me, protecting me and being there for me whenever I needed them.

I miss life before the war although I can’t remember those times; it feels like there was never a time of peace, a time where people lived together in harmony, when people loved each other, didn’t hurt or kill each other, a time that had no invasions. I can’t remember a time without any greed or murders or any unspeakable things.

It was morning and I felt very happy when I opened my eyes, I felt happy that I slept. I actually was able to sleep and rest for a while, although there was allot troubling my mind.

This morning was very different than all the previous ones I had in this house.

Christopher was already awake. He was the first thing I saw when I first opened my eyes.

“Good morning” I whispered.

“Good morning” he replied with wide open eyes looking into mine

“Did you sleep well?” I wanted to know if he had a rough night like me. Did he sleep immediately or did he pretend to be asleep like I did; closing my eyes and thinking for long.

“Yes. You?” Christopher replied and I could sense a bit of dishonesty in his answer.

“Yes” I answered in the same manner and the same dishonesty.

‘Were you watching me sleeping?” I asked as soon as the image of him laying in bed beside me and staring at me when I first opened my eyes popped into my head.

“Yes I was” he answered confidently

“Ok… … we should get ready don’t you think?” stupid response I know but I didn’t know what else to say.

“Alright” Christopher left the bed and started getting ready.

We got ready and found Mr and Mrs. Schellden already awake, setting on the kitchen table, waiting for us obviously.

“Come join us for breakfast” called Mrs. Schellden

“This time we made it, for the first time we are being good hosts and… hospitable” said Mr. Schellden smiling an angelic smile.

“How can you even say that Mr. Schellden? You have been the best hosts, the best that can ever be… You’ve been so good to us that you made it unbelievably hard for us to leave you” tears started falling down my cheeks. Christopher walked closer towards me, held my hand and led me towards the table. We joined them; I wiped my tears and tried to stop more from falling. We had our last breakfast with our new family that we were about to let go of and abandon.

“We can never thank you enough for the great help you’ve bestowed upon us… we will always be grateful” Mr. Schellden said.

“It was nothing; the help you’ve given us was immense. I don’t know where we would have gone or what would have happened to us if you didn’t take us in” replied Christopher with obvious love and gratefulness in his voice.

“We got used to you, you’re like our own daughter and son, and it is very hard to see you going” the old woman whispered to me as I was hugging her and saying my goodbyes.

“It is very hard for us… We will never forget you” I started and Christopher continued saying.

“Thank you so much for everything”

“Please pray for us and remember us” these were the last words said by me to the Schelldens.

“We will, we sure will” replied Mrs. Schellden.

“And remember that you will always have a home and a family here… you can always come back” said the old man.

We hugged them both and set off on our journey, a journey that has a mysterious destination and even more mysterious results.

I never thought it would be that hard to say goodbye and leave. These people had become my family, the house became my home and I felt heartbroken to have to leave. But I had to, as I had my real family to find and love and take care of. Who am I kidding? I am just saying that but I don’t really believe in it inside my heart. I hate having to leave them; I hate not being there for them and not being able to help them anymore. But I found myself in a lose/ lose situation. If I stay I will never find my parents and I would be giving them up and abandoning them. If I leave I will be abandoning these good people and leaving them for the cruelty of life without any help or support. I had to choose one of these two awful choices and I chose the first.