The bath in the wine merchant’s house was for Ellen a wonderful experience. The maids laid a board over the wooden tub and served a luxurious meal of chicken, cold roast, bread, and a piece of cheese. There was also a large cup of wine spiced with cloves. Ellen ate it all with gusto while the warm water softened her skin until it became wrinkled. Alfreda had put rosemary branches in the water, and they had a wonderful fragrance. The old maid rubbed Ellen’s back, cleaned her neck and ears, and then washed her hair with a bar of something she called olive soap. To judge by the fuss Alfreda made about it, it had to be something special and costly. Ellen was ashamed to see how dirty the water was when she had finished bathing.
Rose had gotten into the second tub along with little William. First she bathed the infant, then gave him to the nanny who dried him off and put him in fresh diapers.
“I feel like a new person. It was simply wonderful!” Ellen told Catherine with gratitude after she had gotten dressed again. She was wearing the green dress that Lady Bethune had given her for Claire’s wedding. It was a bit rumpled from the trip but more or less clean. Her long hair was wet and curly, but it wasn’t dripping anymore because the maid had given her a good rubdown with a linen cloth.
“Could Alfreda possibly wash my clothes?” Ellen asked her hostess shyly. “There are still blood spots on them from the birth.”
“But of course! We’ll also give Rose and Jean something to change into; then all your clothes can be washed before you resume your trip.” Catherine smiled, but she no longer looked as happy as she had been the last few days.
“I’m sure you’re tired. We should all go and have a rest. Elias will show you to your bed,” she said nervously, and smiled sadly. Ellen was astonished. The sun had set just a short time ago, and it was customary to sit together and talk with guests.
Nevertheless, Ellen replied cordially, “Please give our warmest thanks to your husband,” she said, “and sleep well!” She took Catherine’s hand and kissed it.
Rose and Jean had also noticed the strangely melancholic tone of Catherine’s voice.
“Certainly her husband is not at all the friendly, good-natured person he pretends to be. I said right away that something is wrong here,” Jean said excitedly once they were back in the little room near the office.
“Who knows what happened? Don’t always make such hasty judgments. You saw in Ruth’s case that you are not always right.” Ellen was angry. Instead of being concerned about the sudden change of mood of their benefactress, Jean was immediately suspicious of someone he didn’t even know.
Rose, who had been mostly silent until then, interrupted. “She looks homesick,” she said.
“Oh, come on, what nonsense, she’s home now,” Jean grumbled.
The next morning Alfreda brought a message from Catherine expressing her regrets to her guests that she had things to do.
The maid suggested they go sightseeing in the city. She gave Ellen a long piece of cloth and showed her how to tie it on to carry little William in front of her. Greybeard sniffed it curiously and licked William’s diapers.
Though none of them really wanted to do that, they set out on their way. There were thick, grey clouds overhead, and a foul-smelling haze lay over the city. The less affluent lanes in town were filled with pigs and rats looking for something to eat in the mud. Ellen and the others took only a short walk and then returned.
It was unusually quiet in the wine merchant’s house—no laughter of children or any other sound could be heard, even though surely everyone was still there.
When evening came, Catherine again sent a message of regret to her guests.
The wine merchant tried to entertain them and asked one of his servants to play something for them on the flute, but the mood remained somber.
Ellen was out of sorts and soon asked to be excused.
Rose and Jean accompanied her.
“If she doesn’t want to sit at the same table with simple people like us, she could have sent us to the kitchen or even better not have invited us at all,” Ellen said with chagrin.
“Perhaps it isn’t her fault at all,” Jean speculated. “Who knows whether her husband might be behind this. Perhaps he doesn’t want her to eat with us and has locked her up!”
Ellen looked at Jean angrily at first, but then she softened her tone a bit. “You may be right—and that may be why she looked so sad just after she arrived. We’ve got to find out what the problem is.” Catherine’s behavior seemed more than strange to Ellen.
“We ought to leave. I don’t feel comfortable here,” Jean urged. “What do you think, Rose?”
“We ought to start out for Ipswich first thing tomorrow, don’t you agree, Ellen?”
“I agree, but not before we are sure that Catherine is all right. If he has locked her up, we have to do something. He is certainly still downstairs. I’ll sneak upstairs right now and go into their room,” she said boldly.
“For heaven’s sake, be careful!” Rose said anxiously.
Ellen put her finger to her mouth and quietly opened the door. The hall was dark. Carefully she left and started up the stairs. She was just about to open the door when suddenly Alfreda appeared before her carrying a torch and looked at her intently.
“I just wanted to say a quick good-bye to Catherine—we are leaving early tomorrow,” Ellen explained hesitantly.
Alfreda opened the door without a key, as it was not locked.
Catherine lay in a huge bed in the middle of the room. The curtains were not drawn completely.
“I don’t think she is sleeping,” Alfreda said, urging Ellen to come closer.
“Catherine, I wanted to say good-bye, as we are continuing our trip tomorrow.” Ellen spoke hesitantly in order not to wake the mistress of the house if she was sleeping.
“Ellenweore?”
“Yes.”
“I am not well. Please excuse me for not spending the evening with you.”
“Of course, we are just concerned. May I sit down with you for a little while?”
Catherine nodded silently. There was nothing in her pale, tired-looking face resembling the young, vigorous woman they had met a few days ago on the ship.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Oh, Ellen, I hate this house, London, the weather here, just everything about it!”
“Does he lock you in your room? Does he mistreat you?” Ellen bent down over her, concerned.
“My husband?” Catherine sat up a bit and looked with surprise at Ellen. “No! He would do anything for me, but I am simply not happy in England. As often as I can I travel to Normandy where my parents have a large estate. That’s the only place where I feel really happy.”
Ellen had trouble concealing her lack of understanding. How was it possible that a woman so fortunate, so wealthy, and with such a good husband and wonderful children could be unhappy?
“I am so indebted to you, Catherine,” she said, taking Catherine’s delicate hand in her own. It sounded like an apology.
“I am a bad person!” Catherine sighed, turning aside so that Ellen would not see her face.
“What makes you think something like that?” Ellen scolded her. “You are kindness itself!”
“Don’t you see the affluence all around me? The children, my husband, the house, my clothes—nobody could be kinder, nothing could be better or nicer, but I am always sad. If I cannot breathe the fresh air of Normandy, I feel constricted. It’s as if I am suffocating. I can’t stand the stench of London, the misery in the narrow lanes. Even when I stay home it haunts me. But I also cannot escape the reproach in the eyes of my husband and my children. They all think I’m ungrateful, a bad wife and mother. And they are right.” Catherine tossed and turned in the bed, sobbing.
“Why don’t you just get up and change all that? Go downstairs and keep him company. Laugh with your children and be happy. You have every reason to be!” Ellen noticed a tone of reproach in her voice, but she simply couldn’t understand why Catherine was so unhappy. There were so many people suffering greater misery, people whose lives were a constant challenge because of sickness, hunger, or physical frailties they had to face every day.
Catherine did not reply.
“I’ll pray for you,” Ellen said softly, stroking her head. Who could ever know why God was tormenting her with these doubts?
Catherine just kept staring at the wall.
Ellen got up and quietly left.
When she returned to their room next to the office, Jean and Rose pleaded with Ellen to tell them exactly what happened.
Jean seemed a bit disappointed that the wine merchant was not a rogue but actually someone to be pitied because his wife became melancholy as soon as she entered his house, and Rose was so moved that she cried a little.
Before leaving the next morning, they visited their host to say good-bye.
“I spoke with Catherine last night,” Ellen told the wine merchant, “and I know now why she is so unhappy, even if I don’t understand it.”
“I’ll go back to Normandy with her again soon,” he said. “Together with the children. I do love her, and when we are there she is so…” He couldn’t seem to find the words.
“Lively?” Ellen asked, tilting her head to one side.
“So lively, yes,” he sighed.
“She gave you wonderful children,” Ellen said, trying to console him.
“Yes, she did,” he nodded.
As they were leaving, he patted Jean on the shoulder and shook Rose’s hand. Ellen hugged him.
“In Normandy she will be yours again,” she whispered in his ear.
His eyes sparkled with tears as he nodded silently.
They left London through the Aldgate in the east and then followed the highway heading in a northeast direction.
They stopped regularly so Ellen could nurse little William and in this way made slow progress on the long journey to Ipswich. The closer they got, the more nervous Rose became.
“Didn’t you want to see if your mother is here?” Jean asked when they arrived in town. Rose drew a deep breath.
“I just want to go to the lane where the house was and see if she still lives there.”
“Shall we come along?” Ellen asked.
“No, don’t bother, I’ll go alone. We’ll meet later at Cornhill.”
“And what shall we do while we’re waiting?” Jean looked at Ellen, wondering.
“We’ll see if Donovan and Glenna have come back. I think I owe them some explanation.”
“Donovan? Isn’t that the smith you told me about?”
“Indeed, my master! The best, but also the strictest.”
Each occupied with his or her own thoughts, they headed toward the outskirts of town. When the smithy appeared in the distance, Ellen became restless.
“I’m afraid of the scolding I am going to get from him, and of the disappointment in his eyes.”
“In whose eyes?” Jean looked at her, bewildered.
“Donovan’s. That’s his smithy,” she said, pointing at the workshop.
“Oh, I see!”
Ellen headed directly to the smithy. Had Donovan returned, had he decided to remain in Tancarville, or had he perhaps been dead for years? She could hear hammering in the shop and hesitantly opened the door. It was dark and smoky as always in the smithy. She stepped in and saw two men working together on a piece of metal. One of them had tousled white hair.
“Llewyn!” Ellen exclaimed.
The smith looked at her questioningly. “What can I do for you?”
Ellen glanced at the second smith.
“Where is Donovan?”
“Did you know him?” Llewyn asked, looking at her closely. “He died shortly before Christmas.”
Ellen held her breath. Though she could have expected that, the news hit her like a thunderbolt.
“And Glenna?” she added in a soft voice.
Llewyn squinted, as if there was something about her that was familiar.
“She’s over at the house. She’s gotten old since Donovan died. But please, dear woman, tell me who you are. Where have we met before?”
“In Framlingham,” Ellen replied, and gave Llewyn a moment to reflect.
“Really?”
“I worked for you as a smith’s assistant by the name of Alan, but my real name is Ellenweore.” She turned her eyes down so she wouldn’t have to look at him directly. “It was the only way for me to become a smith then,” she admitted.
Llewyn said nothing, and this time Ellen looked at him directly.
“So you lied to me,” he said softly.
“Please understand, I had no choice.”
“You could have trusted me.”
“And run the risk you would throw me out? No, Llewyn, I couldn’t do that.”
“Did you lie to Donovan as well?”
Ellen nodded. “That’s the reason I’m here. I wanted to explain that to him.”
“It’s too late for that.” Llewyn sounded bitter. “It was also too late for me to settle my dispute with him. When Glenna sent the striker to me, Donovan was already too sick. He was no longer conscious when I arrived.”
“Llewyn!” Ellen placed her hand on his arm. “He loved you like a son.”
Llewyn exhaled audibly. “Shortly before he died, he seemed to become very lucid again. He looked at me and I thought he had forgiven me, but then he turned away without saying a thing.”
“Llewyn, I know how much you meant to him, believe me!”
Little William whimpered in his sleep like a kitten. Ellen straightened the scarf around her shoulder because he was beginning to feel heavy.
“Do you have a child?”
“His name is William.” She nodded and smiled timidly.
“Go over to the house and talk with Glenna. I think she will be happy to see you. She always wanted to have children.”
“Are you coming along?”
“No, I still have something to do. Just go ahead by yourself.”
Ellen felt discouraged as she left the smithy again.
Jean was lying in the grass in front of the shop playing with Greybeard.