Chapter 7
Demons from the Past
Arthur rolled to the other end of the bed.
This portion of the bed is a bit uncomfortable. I’ll find some sleep on this side.
Arthur stayed at the other end of the bed, keeping his eyes shut and consciously attempting not to think about anything. After a long while of no success, Arthur opened his eyes and turned upwards, facing the ceiling. He trailed the patterned ceiling design in his room. He was sleeping in his father’s former room, the Earl’s room. It had a carved ceiling design that looked like it was telling a story. He wasn’t sure what it was about because the drawing-like carving ran from the door end of the room to the other end. He hadn’t taken time to look at the ceiling and see what it really denoted. Now wasn’t the time to do that either, he couldn’t see the patterns clearly enough with the poor lighting of the lamps.
Arthur turned away from the ceiling, facing the windows. He knew why he wasn’t falling asleep, and it had nothing to do with the patterned roof.
It’s a preposterous proposal, nothing but utter bullocks.
Teresa expected him to attend her planned ball and pick any one of the invited chits. What if none of them appealed to him? And whoever heard of an Earl having to pick women from such a small pool anyway? Whoever he chose to marry was his own decision to make. He wasn’t putting it in the hands of his malicious sister.
Arthur sat up, finally admitting his failure to find sleep. He walked to his window and placed a chair just in front of it. He pushed it open, allowing the night’s cool breeze to come in. The rain had just stopped falling, leaving the environment rather chilly. Arthur neared the window’s edge, choosing to sit on the sill. He looked out to the sky suddenly cleared by the fallen rain. He could make out a number of stars, some shining brighter than the others.
“Which of these would lead me to you, Rebecca?” Arthur said.
He wished to see her again. His heart could find no rest. And with it now apparent that his sister wanted him married off, he needed to find her even quicker.
Teresa behaves as if I need a wife to solidify my claim to being the Earl. I don’t.
Arthur rubbed his hands together, increasing the pace until he felt warmth between his palms. He had felt the same amount of warmth, only that one emanated from his insides, when he held Rebecca that afternoon. What he had felt had been more than mere warmth. It was a warm, tingly feeling that clamped down on his chest and made him light-headed. A need to satisfy desire long buried enveloped his mind, but Arthur had managed to push it down. Even in her simple, formless dress, Rebecca had managed to make him hungry with desire.
And her cute daughter was such a gem. Arthur laid his right hand on his chest. He had felt an instant connection with the girl and found himself wishing things had not gone off course.
“If everything had gone according to plan, and I had never left, she wouldn’t have met that clergyman, and that girl would have been mine.”
There was nothing he could do about that now, so Arthur stopped regretting that decision. The child was probably familiar because she reminded him of Rebecca when he had first met her. Definitely bolder and more outgoing than her daughter when she was a child, Rebecca had an instant impact on him. He wanted to be with her, always.
They used to watch their fathers play chess, each cheering for their father. The Baron and Arthur’s father had a tradition then – anytime the Baron came with his daughters, he would have a game of chess with his friend before leaving. Both Arthur and Rebecca learnt their chess from watching their fathers. They soon started having games of their own, though in the solitude of the inner gardens.
“A lady should do things like knitting and playing cards, not chess,” Countess Eleano had said when she caught them playing on the table their fathers used to use.
Rebecca had nodded in agreement and helped Arthur clear up the game only to lead him to the clutch of apple trees at the end of their garden so they could continue their game. They kept playing, everyday.
I kept winning.
Arthur was the better player, but Rebecca never gave up and always had him on his toes. They stopped playing when Teresa reported them to the Earl, who seized the chessboard and pieces from them.
Those were the best days of his life: his childhood with Rebecca. He knew he could rebuild his life to such reaches of happiness again.
And it might only be possible with Rebecca.
His pulse only raced for Rebecca. He knew she hurt him, but he had seen her again and was certain there was truth still left untold. Arthur chuckled, feeling the cold tinge on his lips. It was a funny situation because logic told him he was wrong, and she had done what she did because she thought he had left. Well, he wasn’t following logic anymore. Logic had told him to stay in London, and he did. It didn’t make him a happier man.
He had to see her, talk to her before his sister set her plan properly in motion. And for the first time in his life, his sister and mother agreed that he needed to let Rebecca go. His mother had been calmer about it, but she was always calm, taking life very easy. Arthur found it hard to brush her words away because he had found while growing up that behind that screen of sickliness, calmness, and a soft spoken tongue was a thinking woman with an astute mind. She usually knew far more than she let on.
Regardless of that, even if he was going to move on, he couldn’t without getting to know the truth. He needed to keep the demons at bay and certify to himself that he had done the right thing, only then could foreign love sprout in his heart.
The wind blew hard suddenly, tickling his hairy chest. Arthur laid back his head, resting it on the metal edge of the window. He didn’t think he would soon find sleep, not when he was this hot on a cold night.
*******
Rebecca swore and finally drew herself up to sit on the bed. The weather was cold, perfect to sleep in. But her body had chosen tonight, of all nights, to chase sleep away, as far as possible. She couldn’t blame it too. She had seen Arthur today, Lord Arthur Bexley, Earl of Derby.
The love of my life.
She didn’t know if she could still describe him as that, but despite what he had done to her, seeing him today had been totally worth it. And she found out one thing. She had been silly to believe six years apart was enough to change how her body and mind reacted to Arthur. Nothing changed. It was like she had just seen him yesterday with the familiarity of her bodily reactions and the way her body refused to follow her senses. Rebecca was sure Harriet had prevented what would have ended in a great kiss between the two of them. She could feel the tension and the way his breath became uneven. She saw the way his eyes fixated on her lips as her eyes sought his.
Rebecca heard a small noise behind her door. Someone was moving something. She suspected that it was Miss Wendy but walked to the door, opened it, and looked outside to confirm. She saw her at the end of the passage. Miss Wendy was wearing a white nightgown and had a small bucket in her hand.
“Wendy, why aren’t you sleeping?” Rebecca asked her.
Miss Wendy turned back to look at her mistress. There was surprise in her eyes. She had been expecting Rebecca to have slept, Rebecca noticed.
“Did I wake you up??” Miss Wendy asked.
Rebecca shook her head. She was very awake. She then noticed that Miss Wendy kept standing there, still waiting for an answer.
She didn’t see me shake my head.
“No, Wendy, sleep had evaded me all evening,” Rebecca said.
“Alright, I decided to go around the house and pack all of Harriet’s toys that are scattered around the house,” Miss Wendy said.
Rebecca wondered why Miss Wendy would choose tonight to do that. It could easily be done in the morning.
“I don’t understand, Wendy,” Rebecca said.
Miss Wendy walked closer, stopping paces away from Rebecca.
“I woke up a few minutes ago, and I needed to get a drink. I walked out and was just a few steps away from my room when I stepped on a very small, sharp object. It had pierced my feet already,” Miss Wendy said.
Rebecca smiled, holding herself back from laughing. Harriet always scattered her toys all around the house. She was getting the training to stop that, but on a day like today, there was no one really watching her.
“I wasn’t going to wait around till morning before going out of the room. So I decided to clean up her mess,” Miss Wendy said.
“Thank you very much, Wendy. I’ll speak to her tomorrow about the way she scatters her toys. Apologies for the injury inflicted,” Rebecca responded.
Miss Wendy looked pacified. She didn’t answer, instead turning and going off in the direction she came from. Rebecca smiled as she watched her maid for the last ten years walk away.
Her father had gotten Miss Wendy to help her and her sister when they both became young women. She grew to love Miss Wendy, and Miss Wendy also grew more attached to her than her sister. Miss Wendy was only a few years older than her, but she had a more settled mind and was far less adventurous, the perfect foil for her activities. She couldn’t stop enough of them because she still ran around with Arthur any time she went over to his place. Sometimes when she wanted to do things that were meant to be unseen with him, she found a way of shirking Miss Wendy, but Miss Wendy knew everything.
She was one of three people, asides herself, who knew the truth. But Miss Wendy was also incredibly faithful. She stuck to her mistress even when she married the clergyman. Her father still paid Miss Wendy, and Rebecca held on to that fact as hope that all was not lost between her and her father.
We can still settle our differences. He is just hurt and angry.
Rebecca didn’t know how but she wanted to build her relationship again with her father. She was sorry as to how things had gone.
Rebecca saw that the lamp Miss Wendy was carrying had gone out of sight before she turned back into her room and closed the door. She was grateful she had someone like Miss Wendy, who had been with her after her husband died. Miss Wendy had got married during the last year, but her husband was a foreigner, an expatriate who travelled for most of the year. They had decided she should stay put, and any time he came home to settle for the last few months of the year, she would move over to his house. It was the perfect arrangement for Rebecca because she cherished Miss Wendy’s presence.
Rebecca rested her back on the closed door. The hard feel of the wood on her back reminded her of the feel of Arthur’s hand on her lower back. His grip had been firm, strong, and his eyes were hungry. His mouth had opened slightly, and Rebecca knew he was about to kiss her. Now she wished he had. She wished he had merged his mouth with hers and taken her back six years ago when she gave her innocence to him.
Then he’d run away like a pirate who had finally found the treasure chest.
He had gotten angry when she asked him if he enjoyed his stay away. So what was I, Miss Fitzroy? I was the man who didn’t deserve a chance, he had said. He was pained about something, angry about something, and Rebecca didn’t know what. She wondered how much he didn’t know and how much she didn’t know.
How much different would things be if we both have access to these hidden information?
Rebecca was scared. She wasn’t sure she wanted Arthur to know the truth yet.
How will he react?
She remembered everything clearly. They had just returned to the house when his sister, Lady Teresa came to them.
“Arthur, Father is asking for you,” she said without sparing Rebecca a glance.
Arthur still held Rebecca’s hand, but his eyes were on his sister. He looked irked that his father was asking for him at such a time.
He looked like he didn’t want to leave my side. I couldn’t be more wrong.
Arthur turned back to her and nodded.
“I’ll be back,” he mouthed before following his sister.
Rebecca released his hand from her grip, watching him go up the stairs with his sister. She turned away to see Miss Wendy coming towards her and looking very displeased. Guessing the reason for displeasure, Rebecca turned and started walking into the crowd in an attempt to get away from her fuming maid.
“Miss Rebecca, Miss Rebecca,” she heard.
Rebecca turned and feigned surprise on seeing that her maid had gotten behind her.
“Wendy, oh dear, it was you calling my name,” she said.
Miss Wendy eyed her, letting her know she wasn’t falling for such pretence. Rebecca decided to push her luck a bit; maybe she could wriggle herself out of the tight spot.
“I had been looking everywhere for you,” Rebecca said.
“No, you haven’t. You have been with Lord Arthur, doing God knows what.”
Miss Wendy grabbed her gloved hand and pulled her back into the centre of the room.
“How did you get away from me anyway?” Miss Wendy said.
Rebecca responded with a confused expression, posing as if ignorant of what Miss Wendy was talking about. She knew how she had gotten away from her maid. It had been easy. All she did was to direct Arthur to move away from the centre of the dance to the edge where Miss Wendy’s eyes could not reach when the dance neared its end. Such that immediately the dance ended, she and Arthur melted into the crowd. Now realising how easily she had fooled her maid, Rebecca could hardly hold herself from laughing.
Miss Wendy had tailed her for the rest of the evening, following her everywhere. Rebecca had her eyes out, looking to see if Arthur would come back. He didn’t, and she was a bit disappointed when she went home with her mother without seeing him.
That night was a dreamy one. Their session of love replayed over and over again in her dreams. Rebecca woke up feeling giddy and eager to go back to Arthur’s house, but she couldn’t make it that day. Father was to host official visitors so Rebecca and her sister were not excused from the general cleaning exercise. That day went by as slowly as possible, but it finally ended, and Rebecca was eager to return to the Earl’s place the next day.
By late morning the next day, she was in a curricle with Miss Wendy. Patricia was feeling ill so she couldn’t go to the Earl’s house that day. That didn’t dampen Rebecca’s eagerness, she wanted to see Arthur. On getting to his house, she alighted first, running up the stairs and onto the patio. She was opening the door when Mr Victor came out.
Rebecca saw him bow his head and tip his hat. She curtseyed back.
“Miss Rebecca, it’s a good morning to see you, delightful looking as always,” he said.
Rebecca blushed. She liked Mr Victor. Arthur always said he had a great deal of good sense. Rebecca felt the same about him too.
“Good morning Mr Victor,” Rebecca replied.
“Are you here to see Lord Arthur?” Mr Victor asked.
“Yes, I am.”
Mr Victor’s expression changed. He looked surprised, caught off-guard.
He looked like I shouldn’t be there looking for Arthur.
“Is something wrong?” Rebecca had asked.
Mr Victor had been about to speak when the door was pushed open, and Lady Teresa came out.
“Rebecca, you’re here,” she said, looking happy to see her.
That was the instant she had known something was wrong. Lady Teresa was never pleased to see anyone, much less Rebecca.
Rebecca saw Mr Victor walk down the steps. She almost cursed.
“Is Arthur in his chambers, Teresa?” Rebecca asked her.
“In his chambers, no, he’s not,” Lady Teresa replied.
“Oh, okay. So where is he? I need to see him.”
Lady Teresa managed to look sombre; a look Rebecca knew was phony.
“Didn’t he tell you?” Lady Teresa said.
Rebecca shook her head. She didn’t like the way the conversation was going.
“Tell me – tell me what?” Rebecca said.
“Father decided he needed to go to London to broaden his scope and round off his education. Father decided what he had learnt here in Derby wasn’t enough to prepare him for life as an Earl, so he compelled him to go,” Lady Teresa said, with a smile on her face.
Rebecca couldn’t fathom how her face had looked, but she was sure the shock and disappointment were apparent. Her heart beat quickly, and her legs were unsteady.
“You don’t look so good, Rebecca. I was just about to have tea – why don’t you join me?” Lady Teresa said, drawing Rebecca into the house.
Rebecca was aware of the cushion furnishing and small stylish table in the middle of the room where she and Arthur used to play chess. She was aware, but she wasn’t sure she saw them. She didn’t see anything. She was rocked to her bones and sauntered her way to the seat opposite Lady Teresa across a table with a small kettle and china cups on it.
Arthur didn’t tell me anything. We were together throughout last night. He should have said something.
Lady Teresa in the meanwhile was busy pouring and serving tea Rebecca knew she didn’t want. Her lips were heavy. Rebecca rubbed her hands together and forced her lips apart. She needed to speak.
“When – when was he told this?” Rebecca asked, her voice sounding smaller than she had ever heard it.
“He found out during the ball.”
“When you came to call on him?”
Lady Teresa nodded. She didn’t smile so much anymore. Rebecca nodded. Her eyes were watering, but she was determined not to cry. He had only found out after he left her. He had only yesterday to tell her; maybe he left a note or something for her.
“Did, di – did he leave a n – a note? Did he leave a note for me, anything?”
Her voice was shaky, and despite how she tried to control it to firmness, she felt it quiver from inside.
Lady Teresa smiled. Rebecca became happier; at least he left a message for her.
“No.”
“No? Arthur wouldn’t leave without sending me a message,” Rebecca said, shaking her head in vehement refusal of what Arthur’s sister was saying. Arthur hadn’t sent anyone to her at home, so he would have left something for her here.
“Well, he didn’t. If he did, I would have told you,” she answered.
Rebecca shook her head. This couldn’t be real. Arthur wouldn’t just take flight and leave, especially not after what they had shared that night. This wasn’t Arthur. He loved her.
“When is he coming back?” Rebecca asked.
“Father said he’s gone indefinitely.”
Rebecca heard a loud crash inside her head.
Indefinitely meant forever.
She picked up the cup of tea before her and swallowed the entire thing in one gulp, forgetting her feminine manners. She tasted nothing, felt nothing. Rebecca stood up, shaking her head. She walked away from the table.
“But he is coming back right? He is the next Earl,” Rebecca said, attempting to light a glimmer of hope in her.
Lady Teresa shook her head.
“I don’t know, Rebecca. I’m not sure.”
She didn’t look pained. She looked delighted that Rebecca hadn’t received any message from Arthur. Rebecca turned and walked out of the dining room. She heard Lady Teresa’s footsteps come after her.
The Countess, the Countess would know something.
Rebecca started going up the stairs. The Countess was a good woman and Rebecca trusted her. She would have something encouraging to say.
“Where are you headed?” Lady Teresa asked from below.
Rebecca didn’t reply. She was tired of Lady Teresa’s fake concern. She was too hurt to pretend she didn’t notice. Lady Teresa ran up the stairs, overtaking Rebecca and standing in her way.
“Where are you going?” she asked again with a scowl on her face.
“Rebecca,” someone called from the bottom of the stairs.
Rebecca turned back to see Miss Wendy looking surprised at what was happening. Rebecca turned back to face Lady Teresa. She knew there was no way she was getting by without telling her where she was going.
“I need to see the Countess.”
Lady Teresa shook her head.
“She’s unwell.”
Rebecca didn’t believe her. She didn’t bother to hide it either.
“I saw her two days ago, Teresa. She attended the ball,” Rebecca said.
“And she woke up this morning feeling really sick. She overexerted herself that night, and Arthur leaving might also have had an effect on her,” Lady Teresa said.
Rebecca shook her head.
You are lying. I do not believe you.
“Please, please let me see her,” she pleaded.
Lady Teresa was stoic. She didn’t budge. She wasn’t going to allow Rebecca to pass.
“Rebecca, stop this. Do not make a fool of yourself,” Miss Wendy said from the bottom of the stairs.
Rebecca wanted to do exactly that. She wanted to push Lady Teresa aside and run into Arthur’s room to confirm if he was really gone. Then run to his mother’s room and ask her what she knew. She didn’t do any of that though; instead, she walked back down the stairs and shrugged off her maid’s comforting hands. When she got into the curricle, she picked her up handkerchief and placed it on her face.
The tears didn’t stop coming down and soon the handkerchief was not nearly enough to dry her eyes. Her eyes were red and swollen by the time they got back home.
She never lost hope, at first. Arthur would never leave without letting her into his plans for the future and how she fit into it. Had they not planned everything? How he would wait for the season to come to its end before making their engagement official, they had it all planned. Why then did he take up their plan and rip it all to shreds?
She fell ill. It was an illness that medicine could not cure, but she took them all the same. Only Miss Wendy understood her plight. She stopped eating; only taking food in when forced by her maid. Then she started vomiting, especially in the mornings.
I handled myself at last. Things went the way they went, and I met Pastor John.
She had been avoiding her parents, running away from their questions and peering eyes. Rebecca started to spend most of her time in the church, where she felt she could make a connection to God.
“Maybe God is the balm for my broken heart,” she used to say.
She couldn’t say definitively that she met God, but she met a solution, at least. Pastor John took her in and harboured her. He tried to help her to forget Arthur, but Rebecca knew that couldn’t be achieved.
She kept checking home, watching if he sent any letter, note or messenger to her. He didn’t. He had practically forgotten her, forgotten them and what they had.
The conflict with her father arose when she started living at the preacher’s quarters in Pastor John’s church at the other end of town. Her father sent many to come and take her back home, but she refused them. Any time he sent Miss Wendy, she just came and spoke with Rebecca, cheering her up. Miss Wendy knew what had happened; she understood Rebecca’s decision. Her father visited one evening. He had realised that his daughter wouldn’t return if he didn’t come himself.
He got to know that she wasn’t going to go back home, even if he came himself.
“I will disown you, Rebecca, and deny you of any inheritance you might have,” he said.
Rebecca amidst tears, shook her head. She wasn’t going back. She couldn’t. She tried to make him understand, but he wasn’t having that.
“I cannot come back, Father. Let me stay here, in the church,” she cried out.
“What church? And where is the pastor that is about to take my daughter away from me?”
Rebecca had to threaten never to speak to her father again before he discarded the threat of arresting the pastor. He finally left her, but Rebecca knew what had happened. She had hurt his pride, and he might not ever forgive her.
She had only spent a month with Pastor John when he asked her to marry him. Rebecca remembered shaking her head vehemently. She saw Pastor John as a friend and another father. One doesn’t marry her father.
Three weeks later, she was married to him. It was a marriage of convenience for both of them. Rebecca needed consoling for a love lost and a true friend. Pastor John needed a companion, for his first wife and love, had died ten years before. They were good friends, and Rebecca soon started to find happiness in life again.
Her stomach started to bulge two months after their wedding. Miss Wendy wasn’t surprised. She paid Rebecca regular secret visits and knew everything. She was the one who informed Rebecca of her father’s reaction when he found out she was pregnant. It was his barber who told him.
‘“Did you know your sister was pregnant?’ he asked Miss Patricia,” said Miss Wendy.
‘“I knew no such thing,’ your sister answered.”
‘“Your sister is pregnant for a clergyman old enough to be her father. I cannot take this. That is no daughter of mine. Rebecca stops being my daughter from hence on,’ he screamed, not caring who heard him.”
“Did he mean it?” Rebecca asked Miss Wendy.
Her heart felt heavy. She had not been as sad as this for a long while. She loved her father, but he wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t.
“I don’t know, Miss Rebecca. He was very angry at that moment, so it is most likely he doesn’t. But your pregnancy makes it even more difficult to mend fences,” Miss Wendy said.
“I know, Wendy. I know.”
They both remained quiet for a while. Rebecca couldn’t keep her mind off the last night with Arthur. If she hadn’t given herself to Arthur, maybe he wouldn’t have left. All this would not have happened
“Did you hear anything?” Rebecca asked her, looking into her eyes.
Miss Wendy said nothing, though it was evident she understood what Rebecca was asking of.
“Any news – is he back? Did he finally send any letter?” Rebecca asked again.
“Forget about Lord Arthur, Miss Rebecca. I hear he communicates regularly with his family. He sends and receives letters from them. This is an intentional act. Forget about him.”
Rebecca dropped her head, holding it between her hands. How could she have been so blind to what Arthur was?
“Maybe I should try sending letters to him,” Rebecca suggested.
“Do you have his address?” Miss Wendy asked.
A defeated Rebecca shook her head. It was pointless. The only person who could help was the sickly Countess. She had to visit her, sooner rather than later.
Well that was five years ago. Now she had birthed a beautiful baby girl. Her husband was dead. And Arthur was back.
Rebecca walked to the window. The sky was littered with tiny spots of light, stars that woke up at dusk and slept at dawn. She looked for the shiniest and found it at the edge of the horizon. There was a time Arthur was the brightest part of her life. Now he was at the edge and threatening to come back.
He deserved to know the truth, though. No man deserved to have such a secret kept away from him. Rebecca just wasn’t sure she was ready for the repercussions. She had done what she needed to do to save her life and salvage what was left of her image with her family. Letting Arthur know the truth was a direct sabotage of all she had built for the past six years. She hadn’t built much, but even that little was balanced on thin stilts. If anyone came and rocked her boat, she drowned.
Can I forgive Arthur and risk getting drowned?
What happened if he wanted into her life again? Rebecca wasn’t sure she had the will to reject him. She was sure of one thing, though. She couldn’t survive that sort of pain again.
What frippery am I thinking? Arthur is the Earl now. What he will be looking for is a wife without a tainted image, not a scandalized woman like me.
Arthur was only reacting to the leftover emotions of yesteryears. He was the man that had left her without a moment’s thought. He had left her when she was young, whole and vivacious; was it now when she was a mother, broken and sapped of energy that he would choose her? Rebecca bit down on her lower lip. She had to avoid falling to his wiles again, lest she gets permanently damaged.
She jumped as there was a loud thud on her door. Rebecca turned away from the window and went closer to her door. Rebecca waited again, holding her breath and tuning her ears. She didn’t need to do that because the thud was louder this time, more urgent.
“Who’s there?” Rebecca asked.
Her heart was beating fast. She was scared, and she wasn’t sure why. It could only be Miss Wendy at the door.
“Mother, it’s me.”
Rebecca smiled and released the latch. She opened the door and bent down, making her eyes level with her daughter’s.
“What’s wrong, Harriet? Why aren’t you sleeping? And what were you hitting my door with?”
Her daughter looked teary eyed. She must have been asleep because her hair was all scattered. She was in her silk sleeping gown and raised her hands up, telling her mother to lift her. Rebecca carried her daughter by the waist.
“Tell me what’s wrong, Harriet?”
“I had a nightmare. It was very scary, and I can’t stay in my room anymore. There’s a ghost in the wardrobe,” Harriet said, sounding winded.
Rebecca laughed. She shook her head.
“No, honey, there’s no ghost in the wardrobe.”
Rebecca collected the giant wooden doll in her daughter’s right fist. That was what she was hitting the door with. She rested her daughter’s head on her chest and straightened her hair with her other hand.
“There is. It kept staring at me from the small crack that I left open. It got into my dreams,” Harriet said.
Her throat was choked with emotion, and she was as serious as anyone could ever be.
“Then why didn’t you close the door shut?” Rebecca asked.
“I wanted to, but when I got close, I could see that it would capture me if I went any closer.”
“Hmm,” Rebecca said smiling and nodding her head, sympathising with her daughter.
“Then I threw my toy at it, and it pushed the door even more open. I had to rush to get Duchess Jane away from it,” Harriet whined, referring to her toy doll.
“So then you decided to come to Mummy,” Rebecca said.
Rebecca moved to the bed, setting her daughter on the bed. Harriet didn’t lie down, instead she sat up, more interested in conversing with her mother than sleeping. Rebecca couldn’t detect any sleepiness in her. The ghost had successfully chased sleep away.
“I ran all the way here. I couldn’t allow it catch me,” Harriet responded.
Rebecca grinned.
We all have our demons.
“So will you sleep now?” Rebecca asked.
Harriet shook her head.
“I’m no more feeling sleepy,” she said.
Rebecca carried her again. She walked back to the window and set her daughter on a stool beside the window so she didn’t need to carry her.
“Did I wake you up?” Harriet asked.
“No, I was wide awake. I was looking at the stars,” Rebecca replied truthfully.
Harriet moved her hand through the slit in the chest of Rebecca’s nightgown so her hand touched Rebecca’s skin. She moved it between her breasts, cradling and resting it in the safety of mother’s warm skin. It was a habit that she’d had since she still suckled. She had stopped but sometimes fell to it when she was alone with her mother.
“What are you looking for in the stars? Pa?”
“No, honey, not Pa. Pa is gone now. I was looking for the shiniest little one,” Rebecca said.
“Oh! I can find it for you. I find bright stars all the time,” Harriet said.
Rebecca held her daughter closer, nudging her face into her soft hair. She saw Harriet point to different ones, never settling that one was the brightest, always finding one just a bit shinier.
She soon fell out of love with looking for the shiniest and started counting them. Rebecca said nothing. Counting stars was a task that would last for as long as you stayed awake. You’d always find new ones. She decided not to tell her daughter.
Let her find out for herself. This takes her mind off the ghost in her wardrobe.
Rebecca imagined that Arthur would be sleeping now. The rest of his time perfectly mapped out for him. He would attend balls, parties, and official engagements where he would meet women more beautiful and sophisticated than she had ever been. He would pick one of them, probably the daughter of a peer, marry her, and have lots of children. Slowly but surely, even the remnant of emotion he had for her that had shown today would die, and he would forget that there had ever been one Rebecca Fitzroy.
She looked at her daughter, busy counting the stars with no other care in the world, asides the ghost in her wardrobe. Rebecca knew she could never forget Arthur. It was impossible.
She wondered if it was sensible to wish that she had never met him too. Yes, she wouldn’t be in the situation she was now. She would be the pride of her father, the proud daughter of the Baron Zouche. But then she wouldn’t have Harriet. She wasn’t sure that was an exchange worth having. Harriet was who made everything worth it, especially on nights like this where demons from the past haunted her sleep.