The Accidental Marriage (9 page)

Could she ever forgive him for the humiliation he had piled upon her, the unhappiness he had caused? Could she ever trust him not to do it again?

Elizabeth Pryce noticed her abstraction.

‘You look pale, my dear,’ she said as they prepared to enter the coach one morning. ‘Are you suffering from the crowding, or the jolting?’

‘Neither,’ Fanny reassured her, and decided she had best confide in the woman who had been so kind to her. ‘It’s just that I am probably breeding.’

Elizabeth looked startled for a moment, then smiled uncertainly. ‘Your husband was with you at Christmas?’

‘Oh yes, long enough to give me another child. I have lost half a dozen in the past, I don’t seem able to carry them to term. So the chances of this one surviving are not good.’

‘We must do our best. We’ve made good time, despite the weather and the state of the roads. We must make sure there is not too much jolting, and we’ll stop early so that you don’t get too tired. What a shame your sister is not with you. They can’t be many days behind, so she’ll soon be with you once we reach London.’

* * * *

Julia awoke to find a smooth-cheeked, bright-eyed face surrounded by a huge white poke bonnet leaning over her. She blinked. No, it wasn’t a bonnet. It was the sort of headdress nuns wore. She’d seen some - where had she seen some recently?

‘Good, you have returned to us, by the grace of God,’ the woman said in guttural French. ‘Do you speak French, child?’

Julia frowned. She understood what was being said, so she must. She nodded.

‘Thank goodness. Neither of your companions appears to understand either French or German, and none of us speak English. I believe you are English?’

Julia nodded again. ‘What happened?’ she tried.

‘You do not recall? The coach in which you were travelling had an accident. You were all thrown into the river.’

Suddenly the memory of it came back to Julia in a tumultuous rush. She could remember the dreadful freezing cold of the water, and being swept along as though she were no bigger than a leaf. She shivered, although she did not feel cold now. She could have died, and Fanny would never have known what became of her.

She looked at her surroundings. She was lying in a bed inside what must be a convent cell, for the only other furniture was a small prie-dieu and a crucifix hung on the wall above it. Light seeped through a small window high up on the wall, and Julia vaguely recalled her mother telling her that convent windows were placed high up so that the view did not distract the inmates.

How sad, she’d thought then, not to be able to see the flowers and the trees and all the other wonderful sights of the world, the views limited to the sky and the clouds. And, presumably, the moon and the stars at night, for there were no curtains or shutters she could see.

‘How did we get here? Where is Maggie? Is she all right? And the men?’

‘They are your family, perhaps?’

Julia shook her head. ‘Maggie is my sister’s maid. The men are the coachman and valet who work for some friends. We were travelling home - to England - with the luggage because there wasn’t room for all of us in the main coach. We had to travel more slowly, so we are a few days behind them. They won’t know what’s happened to us.’

‘You can send a letter to London, it will reach your sister a few days after she arrives at home.’

‘Thank you, yes, I’ll do that.’

‘I see. You will be able to see Maggie tomorrow. But now I have a drink for you. I expect you are thirsty.’

She helped Julia to sit up and drink. It was pleasant, some sort of fruit tisane, Julia thought, but soon she was too drowsy to ask more questions, and sank back to sleep.

It was dark when she woke again, but there was a lamp, turned low, on the floor in a corner of the room, and a nun sat quietly on a stool beside the bed, telling her beads. When Julia stirred she rose and put a cool palm on Julia’s forehead

‘Good, you do not have the fever now.’

‘I’m quite well. What time is it? May I get up? Where are my clothes, please? And where is Maggie?’

‘So many questions! It’s almost dawn. Maggie is being well looked after. I will fetch you some food, and afterwards you may dress and go to see her.’

She would say no more until Julia had eaten some soft, delicious rolls spread with sweet butter and cherry conserve, and drunk a cup of strong, aromatic coffee. She left the room taking the tray with her, and returned with the clothes Julia had been wearing. A second nun followed with a jug of water and some towels, and Julia saw there was a small washstand in the far corner of the cell.

‘I will come back for you in a few minutes,’ she said. ‘I have brought a brush for your hair.’

To her annoyance, Julia felt astonishingly weak. She discovered she was wearing a voluminous nightgown, not her own, and she must have been bathed while she was asleep or unconscious, for her body smelled of delicate flowers, not rank river water, and she could smell the same on the soap which rested on the towels. She managed to strip off the nightgown and wash, then she struggled into her own clothes, which were freshly laundered, the underclothes smelling of lavender. Her woollen gown had, she saw, been expertly washed, but it had shrunk a little from its immersion in the river, and clung to her body. Some of the dye had been lost, but it was warm and she was thankful to have it. In addition there was a thick shawl, which she pulled round her shoulders.

She brushed her hair, which had also been washed. How long had she been unconscious, and how deeply, for her to be treated like that and not be aware of it?

Instead of her own boots there was a pair of soft leather slippers, lined with fur, and thankfully she slipped them on. The room was cold. Then she sank down onto the bed, feeling unaccountably weak after the effort.

A minute or so later the nun returned.

‘Are you able to walk?’ she asked.

‘I feel weak,’ Julia confessed, ‘but I must see Maggie.’

‘First the Mother Superior wishes to talk to you. She is anxious to know who you are and where you were going, so that she can send messages to your friends who may be expecting you, and worrying. You can include a note for them.’

* * * *

Julia felt amazingly unsteady as she was led along a series of wide passageways and into a bare room containing no more than a plain table and a few chairs. A tall, distinguished-looking nun, who was standing beside the window, turned and came towards her, smiling.

‘I am pleased to see you looking better,’ she said. ‘Please, sit down, and tell me about yourselves.’

Julia explained quickly. ‘The last thing I remember is Maggie falling into the pool beside the ford, and then I jumped into the water because the horses were dragging the coach and I was afraid it would fall over and I would be crushed. Is Maggie here? How is she? And how long have we been here?’

‘It’s three days since the accident. I am told a wheel came off the carriage. You were unconscious for a while, and had a fever, but fortunately you don’t appear to have harmed your head or your body. The villagers pulled you out and brought you here.’

‘Three days!’

The Mother Superior smiled. ‘Indeed. Unfortunately the villagers did not bring any of your belongings, so we had nothing to tell us who you were. They swore everything had been washed away,’ she added dryly. ‘Washed into their cottages, I suspect.’

Julia knew there were things here she needed to worry about, but she was more concerned with Maggie, and once more asked after her.

‘Sister Maria tells me she is your sister’s maid. She will get better, I assure you, but she seemed to have been in the water much longer than you were, and she has been very ill. We are praying it will not turn to consumption, but she will be unfit to travel for several weeks. You may go and see her in a few minutes.’

‘And the men? The coachman and Mr Pryce’s valet?’

‘Is that who they are? The older man, he is the coachman?’

‘Yes, Spicer is quite young.’

‘Poor man! The coachman apparently got his legs entangled in the reins as he fell, and he suffered a broken leg. It is, the doctor tells me, mending well, but he will not be fit to travel for some weeks either. He is being looked after by the monks at their abbey a few miles away.’

‘And Spicer?’

The nun crossed herself. ‘He struck his head on one of the boulders when he fell, and I’m sorry to tell you he broke his neck. We have said masses for his soul, and he will be buried in the village churchyard as soon as the ground is soft enough for a grave to be dug.’

* * * *

Maggie was lucid, for almost the first time since she had been brought to the convent, Sister Maria told Julia. She was also tearful, and fretting about what Lady Cunningham would do without her.

‘How soon can we go home, Miss?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know, Maggie,’ Julia said, ‘but my sister will not blame you, and you will not lose your job. Besides, you are not well enough to travel yet.’

And how, Julia wondered, when she was back in her own room and lying down on the bed to recover from her exertions, were they to get back to England? She thought of the young valet, being killed in such a fashion. He had been cheerful company, and she shed a few tears for him.

‘Were all our possessions lost?’ she asked Sister Maria when the latter brought her a bowl of soup and more of the rolls.

‘I fear so. It is wrong, of course, for the villagers to take and hide them, but they have suffered during the wars, as has most of Europe. Many of them lost sons and fathers, and the women find it difficult to manage.’

The money Fanny had given her had been in her small valise, carried inside the coach, in which she kept only the few things she would need on their overnight stops. It would have fallen out into the river, and probably floated, easy pickings for some lucky scavenger, and irretrievably lost to her. She was left with nothing apart from the clothes she wore, so how on earth was she to get herself and Maggie back to England?

She explained their dilemma to Sister Maria. ‘And how can I repay you for all you have done for us?’ she added.

‘We do not ask for payment. It is our mission to care for the poor and sick and needy.’

‘I could write to ask for more money to be sent here,’ Julia said slowly, ‘but that would take a month or more. We cannot trespass on your hospitality for so long.’

‘I wish we could give you the money for your journey, but we do not have so much to spare. Your friends will not be well enough to travel for some weeks. We can look after them meanwhile. You will have to apply to your friends for help.’

‘There must be something more I can do!’

Sister Maria looked thoughtful. ‘Are you willing to work, to earn money?’

‘Here, in the convent? Of course! Anything.’

‘Not here. But my brother runs an inn a few miles away. In the next town, along the same road you were travelling, a road much used by travellers from England. He would give you work, and you might find some compatriots who would either be of help to you, perhaps taking you with them back to England, so that you can then send money here for Maggie and Mr Williams, or taking a message to your sister, which would be more reliable than the posts.’

Julia jumped up from the bed and hugged Sister Maria. ‘That’s wonderful! I’ll do anything. English people will be going home, for the Congress must be over soon.’

‘I will ask for a message to be sent to my brother this afternoon. Now you must rest, for you will not be well enough for even the lightest work if you do not.’

* * * *

Three days later Julia was installed at the inn, working mainly in the bedrooms, and occasionally serving in the private parlours. She still felt weak, but forced herself to do the work without showing it. The innkeeper, Herr Ritter, insisted on paying her.

‘I am glad of your help, for two of my maids are sick,’ he told her.

Julia began to feel more cheerful. She had sent a letter to Fanny, asking her to send money to the convent for Maggie and Williams. If she could find some English people to help her, at least to take messages, she would. Letters could get lost in the post. In the few days she had been at the inn, no English travellers had passed through.

On the next evening Herr Ritter asked her to serve in the tap room, where he provided food as well as drink to the travellers who could not afford a private parlour. It was especially busy, she was told, and she had many trays to carry to the long table where the customers sat. By midnight she was exhausted, but a few men remained, drinking, and someone was still in one of the private parlours. Until they all left or went to bed she could not clear away their tankards and go to her own bed.

Then all but one of the men in the tap room left, and Julia went to collect the empty tankards. The man was slumped across the table, and she wrinkled her nose. She would never get used to the smell of beer in the tap room, but it was stronger here. She saw that one tankard had been knocked over, and the beer had run towards the edge of the table, where the man’s sleeve was soaking it up.

‘Have you finished, sir?’ she asked. All the tankards were empty, and she hoped he would not want more.

She thought she heard the parlour door open and glanced across. Good, that guest was on his way to bed, and she would be able to clear away there as well.

The man on the bench glanced up at her, and a drunken smile spread over his face. ‘Why, my dreams have come true,’ he said, speaking in German and slurring the words so that she had difficulty in understanding him.

‘Have you finished? May I clear away?’

‘Here, pretty one. Come and get them. I’ve better things to do now.’

Like going home to your bed, Julia thought, and reached for the tankards nearest her. Then she jumped as he slapped her rump, and grabbing hold of her arm tried to drag her onto his lap.

‘Let me go!’ she demanded, trying to pull away from him, but he was strong and had a firm grip on her arm. She found herself falling forward, across his lap, and heard him chuckle as he put both arms round her.

‘Give me a kiss, then,’ he said, trying to twist her body so that her face was towards him.