The Promise Page 6

  “I see. But when we reach America, how are we to explain the lack of Aunt Charlotte?”

  “That, I do not know. But we've a long voyage to think of something.”

  URIAH SLIPPED INTO Lady Phillips' manor, crept up the stairs and headed to Mary’s bedchamber. He quietly opened the door, peeked in, and then crossed the well-worn rug to the place where she lay sleeping. He knelt beside her and was about to wake her when he remembered. He surveyed the room, found it on the bed stand and quickly tucked it in the waist of his breeches. Then he leaned close and whispered, “Mary.”

  Startled, Mary's eyes popped wide open and she looked at him in horror, “Is it John?”

  “No, John is well.” He bent closer still, put his cheek against hers, and lightly kissed her neck.

  “Have you lost your wits? This is Lady Phillips' house?”

  “So it is.”

  Mary giggled. She pulled both arms out from under the thin summer blanket and started to curl them around his neck. Then she caught herself, “We cannot.”

  He shrugged as though it didn’t matter and drew away. In the bluish glow of pre-dawn, Uriah glanced around the room, “So this is why you do not come home, Mary Carson. You live in such splendor here.”

  She giggled and looked down her nose, “’Tis the finest home in all of England, and I'll not let you tear me away.”

  “Not even for a holiday?”

  “Holiday?” she asked too loudly. She quickly lowered her voice, “But we cannot.”

  “It is only three days.”

  “Three days? We've not yet spent two days together since our marriage.”

  “One day and seven hours. Mary Carson, are you not tempted to come away with your husband?”

  “Aye, I am tempted. But I could never leave Elizabeth to the mercy of Lady Phillips. Daily, the widow becomes more vicious.”

  “In that case, we will take Elizabeth with us.”

  “What?”

  “We will all go on holiday together.”

  Mary wrinkled her brow, “It’s the worst we have ever done. Lady Phillips will dismiss us.”

  “That's not likely. She will vent her rage for a day or two perhaps, and then all will be just as it was. She speaks of ghosts, you know, and the villagers fear her. Who else has she but the two of you?”

  “Who else indeed?”

  Wistfully, Uriah looked up at the ceiling. “Shall we play a joke before we go?”

  “I have seen that look before. Precisely what sort of joke?”

  “Tell me, can you enter the Lady's bedchamber without disturbing her?”

  Mary clicked her mouth in disgust, “Be serious, she sleeps more soundly than the dead she claims to talk to.”

  “Then I say we take all her clothing.”

  Mary suspiciously watched her husband's eyes. “She'll have nothing to put on...and no one to answer to her bloody bell.”

  “Bloody?”

  Mary threw back the blanket, and nearly toppled over him climbing out of bed. “I'll do it!” She grabbed a clean frock out of the closet and quickly pulled it on over her nightshirt. Then she rushed to the door, paused, and waited for his nod. When he gave it, she was off.

  Avoiding the creaky boards, she carefully led him down the hallway. When they drew near, she peeked through Lady Phillips' half closed door and just as she expected, the Lady was still snoring. With the tips of her fingers, Mary pushed the door open and disappeared inside. A moment later, she handed her husband an armload of clothing. Then she returned a second time, and a third, until Uriah could barely see above the pile.

  Her own arms full and with her husband in tow, she retraced her steps down the hall, crept down the stairs and fled into the kitchen. But when she reached the back door, she suddenly stopped. “Are you quite certain she will not dismiss us?”

  “Quite.”

  Again, Mary watched his eyes. Then she shrugged, opened the door and stepped out. She waited until he passed through and quietly pulled it closed behind him.

  “This way.” He led her to Caleb's lily pond and stopped. Then he turned to his wife. “She will make you wash and iron them again no matter what the damage, you know. I say we throw them in.”

  Mary glanced from him to the pond and back again. Then she twisted her body and hurled her armload into the water. Thoroughly delighted, she grabbed piles of clothing out of his arms and heav­ed them away. Then she watched until the last article sunk into the muddy water. When she finally looked at him, her mistrust had returned, “You're up to something, aren't you?”

  “Me? I cannot think what you mean. Come along wife, we've a holiday to tend.” He took her hand, led her through the bushes to his horse and seated her sidesaddle. Retrieving the reins, he climbed on behind her, wrapped one arm around her waist and lightly kicked the horse's side. As soon as they reached the road, he headed toward the cottage.

  The cool morning breeze lifted her un­pinned hair as Mary grabbed hold of his arm and leaned around to watch Lady Phillips' estate grow small in the distance. When it was out of sight, she let go of his arm and laid her hands in her lap. They were halfway home when she fi­nally looked at him. “When are we to leave?”

  “As soon as you have dressed. Caleb and Elizabeth have been up for hours and your son misses his mother.” When he noticed her shoulders slump, he slowed the horse and peeked at the disturbed ex­pression on her face. “Are you upset?”

  “It is perhaps too sudden. I do not take kindly to surprises.”

  “I know, but Caleb wanted to sur­prise Elizabeth and I do not have the heart to resist him. It is for their marriage, you see. Marriage does not come easily for them.”

  “Marriage does not come easily for anyone,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “Elizabeth is willing to leave?”

  “She is.”

  “And how did you persuade her?”

  “She took little convincing once she saw the hope in her husband's eyes. In fact, it was she who thought to awaken you early and spare you Lady Phillips' unpleasantness.”

  “I see.” Mary relaxed, “Then I've nothing to fear if we are all together. Still, I do have a question.”

  “Go on.”

  “Lady Phillips neglects our pay and you have but a meager wage. How is it we have sufficient reserves for a holiday?”

  Uriah avoided her searching eyes. “As I explained to your sister, I received the funds from my employer. In fact, I demanded he pay for this holiday.”

  “Demanded?”

  “I was enraged, Mary. I importuned him for fully twenty minutes and did not even allow him to speak.”

  “But why were you enraged?”

  “Because you and I are strangers. My son grows up without me, my brother misses me, and...I am in need of a holiday.”

  “Oh.”

  CHAPTER 4

  For hours, the harness bells jingled, the old coach squeaked, and the hooves of the horses beat rhythmically against the hardened earth. Inside the coach, the men wore ordinary black breeches and jackets, the Ladies had on their most colorful frocks, and John busied himself climbing from lap to lap.

  “Is it not delightful, Elizabeth?” asked Mary, admiring the scenery through the windows. “It has been so very long since we traveled, I quite forgot how grand our England is.”

  “Yes it is. We are away; we have the beauty of the land and we are not wearing brown.”

  “I loathe brown,” Mary muttered to no one in particular.

  “I prefer the blue in my wife's eyes,” said Caleb.

  Elizabeth studied her husband's glowing face. “You are uncommonly flattering.”

  Mary braced herself when the coach slowed and began to turn. “Why do we turn? Are we to leave the road to London?”

  “Perhaps we avoid an unstable bridge or a herd of sheep,” Caleb answered.

  The coach passed between two clumps of trees, pulled around to the back of a cottage and came to a halt. The place looked deserted and Mary had only just leaned forward to look
out the window when the face of a stranger ap­peared. He was a middle aged man dressed in light blue silk and when he opened the door, he nodded to Uriah and then bowed deeply to the ladies. He said nothing as he stretched out his hand to Elizabeth.

  But Elizabeth was reluctant.

  “He is a friend,” Uriah said.

  “I see.” Elizabeth put her hand in the stranger's, found the small stair with her foot and stepped down. Then she walked away from the coach and looked around. Suddenly, she caught her breath and hurried back to her sister. But Mary had already seen the King’s coach and was standing perfectly still with her arms tightly wrapped around her waist. Her eyes were glued to the ground. Quickly, Elizabeth put an arm around her sister.

  Uriah handed John to Caleb, climbed out of the coach and returned the stranger's bow, “It is good to see you, my friend.”

  “And you. How has your...” the stranger began.

  Elizabeth barged in, “Is the King within?” she asked, staring beyond Uriah at the sleek black carriage of King George III. The lavish gold trim glistened in the sunlight and the black harnesses of the eight, perfectly matched white horses were dotted with small golden bells. A majestic golden torch holder was mounted on each corner of the carriage and the open door revealed scarlet upholstered seats with folds of matching silk on the walls. Two coachmen, clad in white, held the horse’s reins tight and looked straight ahead.

  Uriah chuckled, “Of course not. The King would never be without a guard for his protection.”

  Elizabeth half smiled, turned Mary away and guided her toward a nearby hill. When they were out of hearing, she leaned closer. “The King's carriage frightens you, but why, Mary?”

  Mary didn't answer.

  Caleb watched the wives walk away, and then turned to grin at the man. “I see they intend to take a turn about the property?” he bowed and set the boy down. “Best I see to them.” He took John by the hand and started off. Soon, he released the boy so he could run in the tall grass. The toddler tried to run up the hill, slipped, and plopped down. Less than a second later, he was up and running again.

  When the women reached the top, Mary turned to look back. The cottage appeared bleak and forgotten. Her husband stood with the other man near the King’s carriage and Uriah seemed – happy. She kept her eyes on him and the muscles in her body stiffened.

  Elizabeth reluctantly left her sister's side and joined her husband, who had yet to completely accomplished the gradual slope. “Do you know this man? Of what do they speak?”

  “I have seen him in London and they speak of business.” Caleb avoided his wife’s eyes, instead keeping a close eye on John, who was intent on catching a bee.

  “What sort of business?”

  “I do not know.”

  “Perhaps I will ask him myself.”

  “My dear, my brother does not often show it, but he is filled with rage. I do not ask his business nor should you. If he wishes us to know, he will tell us.”

  “Rage? But why?”

  “He does not say, nor am I brave enough to ask.”

  Just then, a third coach pulled up. It was a finer coach than the one they arrived in, larger and newer with more room inside. The horses were a matching team with golden brown coats and light manes. As soon as it stopped, the coachmen hopped down and began transferring the Carson's meager satchels to the newer carriage.

  Before Elizabeth could ask, Caleb answered, “It is a surprise to me.”

  Mary's fingernails dug into the palms of her tightened fists. Below, the men stopped talking and the older man looked up at her. Then he tipped his hat and disappeared inside the King's carriage. The coachman closed the door, took up his position on the running board and the carriage pulled away. Soon, the coach the Carsons had arrived in followed, and Uriah started up the hill.

  For a time, she lost sight of the carriage behind the trees. But when it reappeared and turned down the road toward London, six mounted Redcoats had taken up positions around it. Mary turned completely around and faced the opposite direction. In various shades of green, the distant rolling hills were a patch work of farms dotted with clusters of trees, but she did not notice. A tear streamed down her cheek.

  As soon as he neared Elizabeth and Caleb, Uriah made an announcement, “Our plans have changed. Heavy rains have rendered the road to London impossible. Therefore, we will see Bristol instead.”

  Caleb said nothing and Elizabeth only nodded toward Mary.

  Uriah's smile dropped, “What is it?”

  “She is frightened,” Elizabeth answered.

  “Of what?”

  “The King's carriage. She has been since she was a little girl and she does not say why.”

  “I see, wait for us in the coach.”

  Caleb scooped John up, took hold of his wife's arm and started away. Elizabeth began to protest but with a harsh look, Caleb silenced her.

  When Uriah reached his wife, a flood of tears had filled Mary's eyes. Tenderly, he took her in his arms, “Oh Mary, how can you ever forgive me? I have seen the carriage often and I did not think how you must resent it still.” He started to lean down and kiss her hair when she abruptly pulled away.

  “You lied!”

  “What?”

  “You said the King was not within. You said he would never be without a guard to protect him, but there was a guard. I saw it!”

  “I did not lie; it was the Earl of Bute. He often rides in the carriage so the people will think the King has come to see about them.”

  “And the guard?”

  “How could I have known the Earl brought a guard?”

  “I was so very frightened.”

  “I know, do forgive me.” He took her in his arms again, “But Mary, the old King is dead. Did I not ride all night from London just to bring you the news? He is dead, Mary, he cannot hurt us now.”

  She leaned against him and finally gave in to her sobs.

  “Go on, Mary, cry. You've not cried since I found you. How brave you have been. You have been sold, given away, and forced to be a servant instead of the Lady you were born to be. I am here now and I will never leave you again.” As soon as he said it, he grimaced.

  Her sobs turned to giggles, “Not until you return to London.”

  Seated next to her husband in the new carriage, Elizabeth watched. “They are an odd sort, aren’t they? She’s afraid of a carriage and he is filled with rage.”

  “Indeed they are. Why do you think Mary fears the King's carriage? You do not think she was assailed by the King, do you?”

  Elizabeth frowned, “I hadn't thought of that. It would explain why she does not speak of it.”

  “No wonder she is frightened.”

  On the crest of the hill, Uriah handed his wife a kerchief and waited while she wiped her eyes. Then he took her hand and started down. “We best get back.”

  “Yes, but I have a question.”

  He stopped. “What might that be?”

  “Why did the King attend the execution of our fathers? And why did you not kill him as you vowed?”

  “I wanted to kill him. I even planned it and found myself next to his bed as he slept. But then I thought of you. I would surely go to the gallows and you were still out there somewhere – lost.”

  “And the King? Why would a King attend the execution of common thieves?”

  Uriah was totally taken aback. “Common thieves? Mary, our fathers were not thieves.”

  “But the signs...”

  “They were wealthy men, Mary; they had no cause to steal. Their crime was not thievery; it was speaking out against the King. They were executed as a warning to others and the signs were meant to shame their families.”

  “They were not thieves?”

  “No, they were not. They were men of goodness and kindness. Their words were gentle and calm, yet so magnificent and mighty the King greatly feared them.”

  Mary turned her eyes upward, seeing the sky as if for the first time. She took in a long, slow br
eath and let it out, “All this time, I thought them thieves.” When she turned to her husband, her eyes were filled with joy. “I thank you for remembering.”

  “You are welcome, but Mrs. Carson, our holiday awaits.”

  “Indeed it does.”

  THE DOCKS OF BRISTOL were a constant flurry of activity. Tall ships with their sails bound and their gang planks let down, rocked gently in the wash of the tide. Stout men with winches hoisted cargo containers high above the decks, and then lowered them into the holds. On the street, rows and rows of tables overflowed with tempting wares and merchants called out enticing offers. Ladies with painted faces stood in doorways. Boys slipped their hands into the pockets of unsuspecting men and drivers carefully inched their wagons through the swarm of people.

  But in the midst of the hustle and bustle, Mary paid little attention. Instead, she looked out across the water and watched a tall ship sail toward them. With a cloudless sky behind it, the splendor of full canvas sails in the soft summer breeze excited her, and the polished bow glistened in the sunlight. “How very enchanting it all is.”

  “What?” Uriah tried to yell above the noise. He shifted the sleeping child to his other shoulder and leaned closer.

  “Can we stop and just watch that ship?”

  “Yes, but from there.” He pointed toward the end of the pier where Caleb and Elizabeth waited.

  Mary grinned and quickened her pace. Twice she became so distracted by the ship, she nearly walked into a table. Uriah finally took hold of her arm and guided her through the crowd. When they arrived, the end of the pier was nearly empty and far more quiet. An elderly couple sat on a bench. The man was almost asleep and the woman watched the same ship that fascinated Mary. Caleb and Elizabeth stood arm-in-arm at the stone frontage wall looking out across the water.

  “It is exquisite,” said Mary.

  “Have you never seen the ships before?” asked her husband.

  “Aye, but not so close as this. We took up resi­dence on the coast of Wales for a time and we watched from the high cliffs. They are much larger than I imagined.”