Sins of Omission (38 page)

December 25
th
, 1686

Paris, France

The aroma of roast goose filled the house, mingling with the smell of pine and the pleasant scent of burning wood coming from the roaring fireplace.  The table was set for Christmas dinner, but the house was silent except for the sounds of activity coming from the kitchen where the cook and the skivvy were putting the finishing touches on the meal.  The Benoits would be home from church any minute, their cheeks rosy from the cold and their stomachs growling after the lengthy sermon. 

Max carefully made his way down the stairs, wishing that he could have just remained in his room during the festivities, but Vivienne wouldn’t hear of it.  He wasn’t partaking in the spirit of love and forgiveness, although he had every reason to be thankful.  Not a night went by that he didn’t revisit that morning in the mine, when Hugo had outsmarted him once again, and left him for dead.  Max lay sprawled on the cold, dirt floor of the mine, his blood seeping into the ground as he grew colder and more disoriented.  The candles in the lanterns were burning low, and soon they would gutter and die, leaving Max in complete darkness and buried alive.  He still wasn’t sure where the last reserve of strength had come from, or how he managed to drag himself up that ladder, but he’d made it back to the road and managed to call for help.  The last thing he recalled was giving some farmer the Benoit’s address before passing out from loss of blood.

Max needed a hospital, but what he got was Vivienne Benoit.  She nursed him back to health despite the odds.  Max drifted in and out of consciousness for days, but once he finally came around, what he learned was that the bone Hugo used to attack him had perforated his intestine, creating a puncture which refused to heal properly, and leaked gastric fluids into his abdominal cavity.  Even now, six months later, he could barely keep down solid foods, and suffered from acute pain any time he ate anything that was difficult to digest, such as meat.

Max put on a brave face as the Benoits exploded through the door: happy, spiritually uplifted, and ready to eat.  He joined them at the table, drooling at the sight of the goose he couldn’t eat, and the wine he couldn’t drink.  The cook put a plate of mashed turnips in front of him and a cup of milk to wash them down with.  Max lifted his cup in a silent toast as Captain Benoit wished them all a Joyeux Noel.  It was Christmas after all, and it was almost the New Year, a year in which Max would heal, and start planning his return to England.

The End

Please turn the page for an excerpt from The Queen’s Gambit, Wonderland Series Book 4

Coming Summer 2016
 

December 1688

Surrey, England

Chapter 1

I tried to ignore the manic racing of my heart as the hired carriage drew closer to Cranley.  The sky was the deep lilac of a winter twilight, tinged in places with streaks of fuchsia and gold.  It must have snowed a few days ago because the countryside was blanketed in a thin layer of white which shimmered in the remaining light and glittered on trees and bushes.  A few shy stars and a pale moon had already appeared in the sky, ready to take up reign from the sun that had abdicated for the night.  I could see the outline of Everly Manor rising in the distance, its bulk a shadowy blight on the countryside.  I stared more intently, willing light to appear in the windows.  Hugo had written to Brad advising him of our arrival, and asking him to see to some basic domestic arrangements which would make it easier for us to settle in once we returned, but I saw no evidence of life in the darkened windows or smokeless chimneys. 

When we docked in Portsmouth that morning, we’d decided to go directly to Everly Manor without stopping for the night en route.  It would be a long ride for the children, but we were so eager to come home at last that delaying our arrival by even a day seemed like an eternity.  We’d been traveling for weeks, and my secret little fantasy had been to have a good meal which wasn’t tack and stringy stew, and then soak in a hot bath before going to sleep in a real bed that wasn’t a hard wooden berth on a boat rolling from side to side as it crossed the heaving Channel in late autumn.  I’d have to settle for the no rolling part since there would obviously be no home-cooked meal or a hot bath.  Perhaps Brad never got the letter.  Hugo sent more than one, knowing that mail was unreliable and letters often went astray, but judging by the dark, silent house, none of them had reached their destination.  Another day or two of discomfort wouldn’t kill us, and life at the manor would be humming in no time, but although I was slightly disappointed, nothing could mar the happiness of this day.

I’d envisioned this moment a thousand times over the past few years, but now that it was finally here, I felt like I would burst with impatience.  It had been a difficult journey, partially because we made it so late in the year, and partially because of the children.  I’d never imagined how trying it would be to travel with three children under the age of three without the benefit of running water, electricity, disposable nappies, and, most importantly, television and video games to keep them occupied during the long hours of the voyage.  Modern-day mothers thought they had it hard, but they’d never traveled by carriage or had been confined to a tiny windowless cabin on a ship in the seventeenth century. 

We had to remain vigilant every moment of the day, making sure that the children never went near the steep steps down to the hold, stayed out of the way of the sailors who weren’t accustomed to having small children underfoot, and never climbed on anything which might elevate them high enough to allow them to tumble over the side.  By the time the children were finally rocked to sleep at night by the movement of the ship, we were all exhausted and fell asleep within moments, ready to wake up and do it all again the next day. 

The children in question were now sound asleep, lulled by the motion of the carriage.  Valentine was curled up in Archie’s lap; Michael was wedged between myself and Hugo, a little wooden horse that Archie had carved for him still in his hand, and Elena was snoring softly in Hugo’s lap, sleeping deeply at last.  She was easily overexcited and slept fitfully ever since we left our house outside Rouen, which often left her cranky and tired.  The twins had turned one the day before we left Rouen, but although they had been born less than half an hour apart, couldn’t be more different in personality or development.  Michael was a serious child who enjoyed playing quietly and being read to.  He was slightly taller than Elena, but weaker of constitution and more easily upset and frightened.  Elena, on the other hand, was a little daredevil, who had no fear of anything, and never cried even when she fell and hurt herself.  She was a natural leader, and held her own when Valentine tried to boss her around. 

Elena was currently going through a “daddy phase”, and wanted little to do with me.  She hardly gave poor Hugo a moment of peace on the voyage, climbing him the way the sailors climbed the rigging.  Michael was more content to stay with me where it was safe, and chose Frances as a substitute if I weren’t available.  He seemed to be intimidated by Archie, who was a favorite with the girls.

Valentine, being nearly three, was still nursing her infatuation for Archie.  He seemed to be the only one who could talk her ‘round, and despite his often taciturn exterior, he seemed to enjoy the attention.  The two of them were practically inseparable, which left Frances feeling a bit left out.  She willingly helped out with the children, but they tired her, and she often sought a quiet corner in which to read or just sit and think.  She’d been unusually quiet since leaving France, the memories of her life in England weighing her down, as was her fear of some sort of retaliation from her father-in-law. 

Frances had complied with Hugo’s request and waited to marry Archie, but I could understand her fear.  As Archie’s wife, she would be his by law to support and protect.  As the widow of Lionel Finch, she was still vulnerable and beholden to his family.  Gideon Warburton had assured Hugo that he would pursue all legal avenues regarding Frances’s share of the estate, but there had been no word from him in over a year, and Hugo was beginning to question the wisdom of leaving Frances so exposed.

I was in favor of having Frances and Archie wait, but for reasons of my own.  Frances had been severely emotionally and physically traumatized, which, in my opinion, led her straight into the arms of the first man who showed her any affection and kindness.  Had Archie responded to her advances, perhaps things would have been different, but Frances nearly died as a result of her vulnerability and misplaced trust, and she needed time to heal.  Now, nearly three years after her near-fatal abortion attempt, Frances was finally in a good place.  She had matured, gained confidence, and lost some of the fear which shaped her decisions in the past.  Receiving financial compensation from the Finches might benefit her in some ways, but it would also complicate her relationship with Archie, which was something Hugo chose not to acknowledge from his practical, masculine perspective.  I knew that Frances was anxious about our homecoming, and would have happily remained in France as long as the rest of us remained there with her.

I felt a jolt of tension roll over Hugo as he spotted the manor house in the distance.  He’d dreamed of this moment, had longed for home, and had taken the risk of sailing to England at the end of November when events leading up to the fall of James II were about to unfold.  The prudent thing would have been to wait until spring, and allow the political dust to settle, if such a thing were possible in England, but Hugo simply couldn’t wait any longer.  He was desperate to go home and reclaim his life.  I put my hand in his as an array of emotions raced across Hugo’s features.  This was uncharted territory, and neither one of us had any inkling of what this homecoming would bring.

Chapter 2

The house was as cold as a tomb, and just as dark when everyone finally trooped into the foyer.  Archie had to break one of the high windows in the cellar kitchen and come around to open the front door since there was no other way in.  Hugo had never needed a key to his own house; there had always been servants to let him in.  He stood in the darkened foyer, listening to the deafening silence of the empty house.  All he heard was the howling of the wind outside and the creaking of the wood as the house settled for the night.  Archie grabbed a few candles on the way from the kitchen and now lit one, casting the travelers into a golden pool of light which reflected off the breastplate of Bruce’s armor which had guarded the foyer since the house had been built during the reign of Henry VIII.

“Mama, I’m hungry,” Valentine whined as the younger children rubbed their eyes.  It was nearly their bedtime, and after a day of traveling they were ready for bed despite having slept in the coach.  Neve looked bemused, the fatigue clearly showing on her face.  She needed to warm up, have something to eat, and rest.  The past weeks had been hard on her, and although one more night wouldn’t make all that much of a difference, Hugo felt as if he’d let everyone down.  They all huddled together, like a band of refugees, and it was time to get matters under control.  Tomorrow, he would figure out what went wrong, but for tonight, he had to get everyone fed and settled. 

Hugo herded everyone into the front parlor and lit a few candles, dispelling the gloom of the winter evening.  Opening the shutters was pointless since it was already pitch dark outside.  The furniture was covered in dust sheets, and according to Archie, there wasn’t a scrap of food in the larder, nor was there much firewood.  The house had been deserted for years. 

“Archie,” Hugo began, “go to the tavern and get some food, enough to last through tomorrow.  Don’t forget milk for the children.” 

He then turned to the coachman who came with the rented coach.  The man would wish to return to Portsmouth come morning, but for tonight he was Hugo’s responsibility.

“Master Harvey, please see to the coach and horses and fetch some water from the well,” Hugo requested of the man, who looked non-too-pleased at arriving at a house that hadn’t been inhabited in years.  After a day of driving through the cold, barren countryside, he’d no doubt been looking forward to a hot meal and a comfortable bed. 

“I’ll stay at the inn tonight, if it’s all the same to you, your lordship,” he replied, jamming the hat back onto his head.  He’d already been paid for his services, so there was nothing to keep him from leaving.

“As you wish, Master Harvey.  Perhaps you can give Archie a ride then since we have no horses of our own,” Hugo replied without missing a beat.

“It would be my pleasure,” the coachman replied sarcastically, clearly annoyed at having to spend his hard-earned money on lodging and food. Hugo reached into his purse and passed the man several coins, having correctly deduced the reason for his surliness. 

“Thank you kindly, sir, and a good night to you all.”  Hugo waited for the man to leave before continuing with his instructions.

“Neve, prepare two bedchambers for tonight.  The children can go in with us, and Archie and Frances can share for one night.  I doubt anyone will be particularly shocked,” he added, seeing the look of astonishment on Frances’s face. 

“Frances, please mind the children while Neve is upstairs.  I will lay the fires in the rooms and in the kitchen and put on some water to heat.  There’ll be no hot baths tonight, but at least we’ll have some hot water for washing.”

Hugo left the women to it and went out to get firewood.  He hoped it was dry, or it would be a very cold night indeed.  His mind buzzed with questions as he chose the driest logs from the sorry pile behind the house.  Why was the house empty?  Where the devil was everyone, and where were the horses?  The stable was dark and empty, as was the kennel which normally housed a few dogs.  Where was Brad?  Bradford Nash was not the type of person to just ignore a request, or to forget.  Hugo felt a twinge of unease as he thought of his friend, but there was nothing he could do until tomorrow. 

Hugo gathered as much firewood as he could and went back into the kitchen.  It took him some time to get the fire going, but the damp wood finally caught, illuminating the large room which seemingly hadn’t been used in years. There was no water, so he found a bucket and went to the well.  The water was frozen solid, and throwing the bucket against the ice did little to crack the crust of ice.  Hugo went out to the shed where he found a long stick resembling a pike.  That would do it; or so he hoped.

**

The church clock struck ten, the distant chime reverberating through the silent house.  There had always been plenty of empty rooms, but for some reason, the house never felt as forlorn as it did tonight.  Hugo gazed at the children who were fast asleep in the big bed.  They’d been overwrought and tearful, but Archie brought some fresh bread and cheese, hot stew and meat pies, as well as bottles of ale and milk, and they had a feast in the kitchen, seated around the long table and warmed by the roaring fire.  The food and cozy atmosphere lifted everyone’s sagging spirits.  The children were washed and put to bed after supper, leaving Hugo alone with Neve.  They hadn’t been alone since they left their house in Rouen, and it felt wonderfully peaceful to just sit by the fire and talk awhile before joining the children in bed.

Archie and Frances had also retired after cleaning up the remains of their meal.  Archie insisted on making a pallet on the floor and allowing Frances to take the bed, which confirmed Hugo’s suspicion that their relationship had never been consummated despite their betrothal.  He wouldn’t have blamed them if it had been, but was glad that Archie chose to wait.  Hugo never asked Archie any personal questions, but he was sure that Archie had been as celibate as a monk since declaring his love for Frances.  Who would have thought that Archie would last that long? Hugo mused with an inward smile, but love did amazing things to people, as he himself knew only too well. 

“Do you think the letter went astray?” Neve asked as she turned her back to allow Hugo to unlace her gown.  It was travel-stained and smelled of Neve’s particular scent, which Hugo loved, but Neve wrinkled her nose in disgust and threw the gown into the basket of items to be laundered at the first opportunity.  The basket was already overflowing with children’s clothes, dirty clouts, and the damp and yellowed linen that Neve pulled off the beds.

“I can only assume that it did,” Hugo replied thoughtfully.  He didn’t want to worry Neve unnecessarily, but couldn’t hide his unease from her shrewd gaze.  Neve knew Brad well enough to know that had he received the letter their reception would have been a very different one, but there could be other reasons why Brad had been unable to comply with Hugo’s request, such as illness or death.  Hugo hadn’t had a letter from Brad since September; a letter which had been penned in July.  A lot could happen in five months.

“You think something is wrong,” Neve stated as she turned around to face him.  “Tell me.”

“I don’t know; I really don’t,” Hugo replied as he pulled Neve onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her to keep her warm.  “Archie said that there was much talk at the tavern.  James II tried to flee London three days ago.  He threw his royal seal into the Thames before he was apprehended and turned back by forces loyal to William.  I knew this would happen, but somehow it still shocks me to hear it.  How could he not stay and fight, and defend his kingdom and God-given right to the throne?”

“Reading about history is never the same as being a part of it, is it?” Neve asked as she snuggled closer to Hugo.  “I should know,” she added with a smile, “I used to consider myself quite the expert.”

“No, things never appear as frightening or real as they do from a safe distance of four hundred years.”

“James will be gone in less than ten days,” Neve reminded Hugo.  “William will allow him to leave unharmed.  I think that’s a generous gesture on his part.”

“It has little to do with generosity,” Hugo replied as he stared at the leaping flames of the fire.  “William is no fool.  He realizes that throwing his father-in-law, who also happens to be his uncle, into the Tower as one of his first acts as future king will make him look petty in the eyes of the people, and the last thing he wants to do is turn James into a martyr for Catholics.  Allowing James and his family to live in exile is a savvy political decision since he will be seen as being magnanimous by both the Catholics and the Protestants.”

“But it will also give the Catholics hope, which will lead to decades of failed rebellions and countless deaths,” Neve countered hotly.

“Yes, but William and Mary don’t know what you do, and besides, executing James wouldn’t put an end to the problem.  William would also have to kill the child, his own wife’s little brother, which would be seen as unnecessarily cruel and incite rebellion anyway.”

“You know,” Neve said as she yawned, covering her mouth daintily.  “There was a time at school when I thought British history was boring,” she said with a smile as she slid off Hugo’s lap. 

“Really?” Hugo asked, stunned.

“Yes.  It was such a chore trying to remember who was related to whom, who’d been executed, crowned, or exiled.  I never imagined I’d get to live it.”

“There are days when I would give a lot to be bored,” Hugo replied as he pulled back the covers and got into bed next to Valentine who was snoring lightly.  Michael was between the two girls, his fair head resting on Elena’s pillow and her arm protectively placed around his middle.

“Me too,” Neve replied.  She got in on the other side to make sure that no one rolled off the high bed during the night.  Hugo reached out and took Neve’s hand, holding it for a moment while they bracketed their children.  His whole world was in this bed, and he meant to keep them safe, no matter what it took.