Page 49 of The Lovers
“Yes, I imagine it would. Can you control what you see?”
“To a degree. I seem to be privy to events that truly shaped the lives of the people I see. Sometimes the events are in sequence, and sometimes I find myself further down the timeline.”
“How marvelous,” Rhys said, shaking his head in wonder. “Will you tell me everything you see? We can create a completely realistic reenactment of Elise’s life, all the way up to her death. The viewers won’t know the story is real, but we will. What do you think?”
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, but how will we explain this sudden knowledge?”
“We don’t need to,” Rhys replied. “What we are selling is a dramatization based on the few facts we do know. We try to connect the dots and fill in the blanks to the best of our ability. And our ability has just increased a hundredfold. What do you say to bringing Elise back to life?”
“I think she would have loved that.”
THIRTY-THREE
JUNE 1665
London, England
Elise was surprised when Edward decided to join her for supper one night in June. She hadn’t laid eyes on him in days, and even then it was only in passing. Any other woman might have thought that her husband kept a mistress at court, but Elise knew better. It wasn’t the women that drew Edward to the palace—it was the men. He enjoyed the liveliness and intrigue of the court, and he seemed to feel most himself when distracted from his own troubling thoughts. Edward didn’t share much with her, but from the little she knew of him, she deduced that Edward Asher was not a happy man.
Despite the ever-present loneliness, Elise preferred her own company to Edward’s and felt more at ease when he stayed away. She didn’t know what brought him home this evening, but she simply asked for another place to be set at the table and waited for him to join her. Edward was tired and ill-tempered, having just returned from the palace. He hadn’t changed out of his finery, but he removed his wig and cleaned his face with a moist towel, wiping away any traces of the powder and rouge favored by some courtiers. It was almost as if Edward had removed a mask, allowing his wife a glimpse of what lay beneath.
“What news?” Elise asked as the first course was served. Elise had long since scaled down the evening meal to two courses, a broth and roasted poultry or baked fish. She didn’t care for meat, and Edward was so rarely at home that it seemed wasteful to keeppreparing dishes that no one ate. Once a week, Mistress Oliphant made Elise a sweet of some sort, claiming that if she stopped cooking puddings, she might lose her knack for baking. Elise had never been one for sweets in the past, but now that she was pregnant, she found herself craving sugary treats. She also liked tea. Edward introduced it into the household a few months ago, saying it was the fashion at Whitehall Palace, brought from Portugal by Catherine of Braganza. Elise disliked the strange drink at first, but sometimes, especially in the mornings, she found it more palatable than ale, which left a sour taste in her mouth and made her belch. Tea had a bitterness to it, but when taken with a bit of sugar, it was quite refreshing.
Edward frowned as he stared at his bowl of broth. He was accustomed to eating rich, multicourse meals at the palace, and the broth displeased him.
“This is peasant food,” he said scornfully and pushed the bowl aside. “Is there nothing else?”
“There’s some roast fowl with root vegetables.”
“Very well. I’ll have that.” He was surly, but beneath his gruff exterior Elise saw a man who felt frightened and helpless. “The news from the city isn’t good,” Edward said, finally responding to her question. “The death toll is rising. Some measures have been taken by the Lord Mayor, but they are too late. People are leaving London in droves. It took me nearly an hour to get home today. The streets are thronged with wagons and carriages. Many physicians and clergymen have chosen to leave at a time when they are needed most,” he added hotly.
“They fear for their lives,” Elise replied as a feeling of trepidation spread through her. No wonder Edward came home. Dread had replaced the gaiety of the court, and many had already fled the city, desperate to protect themselves and those they lovedfrom a pestilence that struck indiscriminately. The plague didn’t care about wealth or position. It simply killed.
“Should we not consider leaving?” she asked carefully.
“To flee London while His Majesty remains is cowardly and disloyal,” Edward retorted. “I must remain, and so must you.”
Elise couldn’t imagine what difference it made to His Majesty if she were in London or not, but she chose not to argue. She was safe here, or so she wished to believe. The sickness was worst in heavily populated areas, where people came in contact with others and spread the disease. She came in contact with no one but the servants, and so far, everyone had remained healthy since they rarely went out. Elise prayed nightly that they would remain so.
“Has anyone at the palace been taken ill?” she asked as she picked at her food.
Edward didn’t immediately reply, but she could see by the clenching of his jaw that her question unnerved him. She doubted that anyone of importance had been taken ill, but those from the lower orders were bound to have sickened. Servants, grooms, seamstresses, and cooks went into the city every day as part of their daily duties and came into contact with tradesmen and passersby. It was highly probable that more than a few had been infected.
Edward pushed away his plate with a snort of derision. “This is foul. I don’t know how you eat this slop. Had my mother still been alive, she would have dismissed the cook for such a tasteless offering.”
“Cook made this to my specifications. You rarely dine at home, and I like my food plain,” Elise retorted. Rich sauces and overly spiced dishes gave her an upset, and she cared not what Edward liked since he was never there.
“Tell Lucy to bring me some hippocras. I’ll be in the library.”
“We haven’t got any. You’ll have to do with wine,” Elise replied serenely, not caring overmuch if Edward was displeased. Edward stormed from the room, leaving Elise to finish her meal. Having endured Edward’s bad temper, she reflected that perhaps eating alone wasn’t so bad after all.
Edward spent the night at home, but Elise didn’t see him again. She went to bed at her usual time and read a little before blowing out the candle, but she couldn’t get to sleep. She heard Edward’s snores through the connecting door, but it wasn’t the rumbling that kept her awake. She was frightened. The servants tried to keep the truth from her, but she heard snippets of conversation as she floated through the empty house in search of something to do. Cook was glad that no elaborate meals were expected since she was hesitant to send the servants out to buy supplies. The less exposure everyone had to the outside world the better. The death toll was rising fast, and this promised to be the worst outbreak of plague yet. The warm weather didn’t help matters, and Elise fancied she could smell the sickness in the air when she went out into the garden for her daily walk.
Elise lay on her back and stared up at the darkened canopy. She felt hot and irritable, and her mouth was dry with thirst. Elise kicked off the heavy coverlet and yanked open the bed hangings. She couldn’t open the window for fear of letting in contagion, but laying there in just her nightdress helped. She folded her hands across her belly and tried to think of something pleasant, but nothing came to mind. She felt a strange little flutter deep in her abdomen. It felt like a trapped butterfly beating its wings against her skin. Elise moved her hands over her belly and tried to pinpoint where the flutter was, but it vanished as quickly as it came. A few minutes later, she felt it again. She hoped she wasn’t getting ill.She often felt queasy and bloated, but the feeling usually passed by midday. It rarely happened at night.
Elise rolled onto her belly, but had to turn right back again. She loved sleeping on her stomach, but she no longer felt comfortable. Her belly felt like a small hillock beneath her, and she felt a pressure she couldn’t account for. Elise tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before giving up on sleep. She put on her dressing gown and went downstairs, still barefoot. The floorboards were smooth and cool beneath her feet, and she liked the way they felt. The house was silent and dark; everyone was asleep. Elise went down to the parlor and threw open the window. She knew Edward would scold her terribly if he found out, but she just needed a breath of air. She felt so hot and restless.
The cool night air caressed her face as she stood there in the darkness, listening to the silence. Sunrise wasn’t far off, and with it the heat would rise and the stench from the river would overpower the smell of flowers and grass. The river smelled foul at the best of times, but during the summer months the usual smell of rotten fish and sewage was almost unbearable, especially when combined with the stink of sun-warmed heaps of rotten produce and human and animal waste.
