Page 57 of The Lovers
James glanced at Elise. She shrugged, indicating that she didn’t care either way. And she didn’t. She was so tired, she could have sat down right where she stood and gone to sleep, with or without eating.
“We’ll eat down here, if it’s all the same. I’d like some hot water sent up after the meal.”
“Of course, sir.”
Fatigue notwithstanding, Elise ate with relish. She was starving despite having a bit to eat in the carriage, and she was very thirsty. The stew wasn’t half-bad, and the bread was fresh and slathered with butter. She drank three cups of ale and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, making James chuckle. He ate like a man who hadn’t eaten in a week. Elise wondered what he had been up to these past few months and what made him come for her now. James barely said anything as he ate, and she didn’t press him. He was obviously exhausted, so questions would have to wait.
James waited downstairs while Elise, Barbara, and Peg used the warm water to wash. They undressed and climbed into the narrow bed in their chemises, their bodies pressed against each other for lack of space. When James finally came in, he bedded down on the floor with an extra blanket and went to sleep immediately, seemingly unaware of any discomfort.
Elise’s back ached from hours of jolting, so she stretched out and tried to carefully massage her back without elbowing Peg, who was already sound asleep. Elise’s mind was teeming with questions, so she began to hum a mellow tune in order to calm her mind. It worked, and she began to feel drowsy, her body sinking into the thin mattress as it began to relax. Elise closed her eyes and smiled. She was surprised to discover that despite everything, she was suddenly happy. Her melancholy had lifted, and she was eager to find out what tomorrow would bring. Elise rested her hand on her belly and waited for the baby to kick, pleased that it obliged.
“Good night to you too,” she whispered and fell into a dreamless sleep.
THIRTY-NINE
NOVEMBER 2013
Surrey, England
It took Quinn several hours to get to sleep after the confrontation with Gabe, and when she finally managed to doze off, her sleep was fitful and plagued by strange dreams. She was in seventeenth-century London, alone and terrified. Everywhere people were dying of the plague, and piles of dead bodies were carelessly left to rot, the stench so overpowering that it was nearly impossible to draw breath. She tried to run, but her huge belly slowed her down, and she felt exhausted and out of breath after only a few steps. Each street wound up being a dead end. Quinn felt overwhelming panic as she tried to find a way out of the labyrinth of tiny alleyways, but everywhere she went, there were red crosses on wooden doors and carts full of corpses.
Quinn breathed a sigh of relief when a carriage pulled up, driven by Rhys Morgan, who looked right at home in seventeenth-century attire. He smiled at her and invited her to get in. Quinn felt tremendous relief as she climbed in, but it was short-lived since the carriage wasn’t empty. Gabe was slumped in the corner, his head resting against the side of the vehicle. He was gray and clammy, his eyes vacant as he stared at her. He was obviously ill. Quinn reached out to him, but he pushed her hand away, lifting his arm to reveal an egg-size bubo in his armpit. Quinn screamed and jumped out of the carriage, which drove away without her.
Quinn woke with a start, her heart pounding with fear and her forehead covered in cold sweat. It took her several minutes tocalm down and remember that she was at home in her own bed. She put a hand to her stomach, breathing a sigh of relief to find it still flat. She’d never been pregnant, but the love she felt toward the baby in her dream had been all encompassing. She would have done anything to protect her unborn child, anything at all.
Quinn turned on a bedside lamp and angrily wiped the tears from her eyes. She supposed the feeling must have been there all along, but she was conscious of it for the first time. She didn’t justwanta child. She’d never feel complete without one. Luke wanted a family but was never ready to commit fully to the idea, so she resigned herself to possibly never becoming a mother if she married him. It had been a sacrifice she was prepared to make, but now, suddenly, she realized that she’d never actually thought it through. They had both been busy with their careers, their lives too hectic to start a family, but now she was nearly thirty, and the desire for a baby filled her with the kind of longing that took her breath away. Was she channeling Elise somehow? Elise hadn’t wanted a baby, but once she found out she was pregnant, her maternal instinct took over, her love for her baby as natural as day turning into night.
Quinn got out of bed and went to get a glass of water. She was still shaken by the dream. It left her confused and weepy. She sat down in front of the cold hearth and stared into the ashes of last night’s fire. She’d been unusually emotional since “meeting” Elise, and some of Elise’s feelings seemed to find their way into Quinn’s own heart. She’d never experienced this before, not with any of the people whose lives she’d been privileged enough to see, not even Grandma Ruth’s. She’d always been an impartial observer, not a participant.
“You’re really losing the plot, Allenby,” she said out loud as she finished her drink and padded back to bed. “Get a grip.”
FORTY
JUNE 1665
Road to Suffolk
The rain came down in nearly horizontal sheets of water. Elise ran toward the carriage, her impractical shoes getting soaked in mere moments and squelching loudly. The hem of her skirt was muddy, and rainwater ran into her bodice, but it felt good on her skin, and the air smelled fresh and summery. Elise turned her face up to the sky, put her arms out, and did a graceful pirouette, as if she were performing some pagan rain dance. She came to a stop and closed her eyes, savoring the moment. Elise couldn’t recall the last time she felt such a sense of abandon. It was as if the chains binding her grew slacker with every mile that separated her from London and her husband.
Elise opened her eyes to find James watching her. Rain dripped from the brim of his hat and his coat was soaked, but he didn’t seem to notice as he gave Elise a warm smile before handing her into the carriage. They’d barely spoken since he came to fetch her yesterday, but there seemed to be a kind of new understanding between them, an unspoken bond. Peg dashed from the door of the inn to the carriage and jumped in, collapsing onto the seat. She was remarkably dry.
“Ye’ll get a chill,” she said reproachfully. “Just look at the state of ye.”
“Stop fussing, Peg. It feels good,” Elise retorted, feeling chastened, nonetheless. Her behavior wasn’t ladylike, but she didn’t feel much like a lady. She felt like her old self, a carefree girl whowas full of hopes and dreams. The carriage lurched, and they got on their way. It would take longer to get to Suffolk than anticipated, what with the roads awash and the wheels getting stuck every few miles, but Elise didn’t care. She was in no rush to get to their destination. While on the road, she was free. Once they arrived, she’d be Lady Asher again, and she would no longer be invisible. And sooner or later, she would have to return. The thought was soul crushing, so she put it out of her mind for the time being. She would enjoy this, no matter what.
The manor house was located two miles west of the town of Southwold on the shore of the North Sea and was built of forbidding gray stone. The crenelated tower was silhouetted against the leaden sky, its sections like giant teeth taking a bite out of the heavens. The estate was vast and well managed, by all accounts, the parkland full of game. Elise gazed up at the great house as the carriage drew closer. It stood atop a slight incline, like a fortress. She supposed that it might have been a fortress once, as the middle section appeared to have been part of a keep, and the dip in the ground that surrounded the house might have been a moat. Elise looked for any evidence of a curtain wall but found none. Perhaps her imagination was getting the better of her.
James did not drive the carriage up to the front door but stopped in front of the stables, where he unhitched the horses and led them away to be fed and watered after helping Elise, Barbara, and Peg alight from the carriage. They walked slowly toward the house, taking in their surroundings. All the windows were shuttered. The massive oak door remained firmly closed, and there seemed to be no activity in or around the building. There didn’t even appear to be a groom to see to the horses.
“Where is everyone?” Peg asked as she looked around in dismay.
“The house is closed up,” James said as he approached them, having dealt with the horses and carriage.
“Where have you been staying?” Elise asked, wondering what James had been up to these past few months.
“At the gamekeeper’s cottage. The man died near a year ago, and it’s been vacant since, so I took it over.”
“Is that where we will stay?” Elise asked carefully.
