Chapter Six
In the morning, Evie’s mother’s step seemed a little lighter. She said not a word more about what had happened the night before, but Evie saw that her demeanor was somewhat altered. She seemed…less burdened.
Evie imagined the pain her mama must have felt keeping Alfie’s secret all these years, and she was happy that the two of them shared it now.
Under no circumstance would Mama have been able to divulge such a secret to Papa.
He would never have understood and would likely have ordered the contents of Alfie’s room burned if he had known.
No doubt, that was why Mama had insisted on keeping Alfie’s room locked.
She’d always carried the key with her, just like she’d carried his secret.
For Evie, the day ahead held more trepidation, for she was certain to see Hugh and his betrothed at church. Somehow, she would have to find a way to talk to him, and that would not be easy.
They were the last to enter the building, and Evie was aware of Hugh’s eyes on her as she walked past him and took a seat two rows ahead of him and Miss Wells.
She could not concentrate on the service and had to force herself not to glance back at him.
All she could think about were the sketches and how painful it must have been for Alfie to confess his true feelings to Hugh—how painful it must have been for him to hear that Hugh wanted to marry his sister.
And how had Hugh reacted? With compassion or with anger? The question burned in her mind. She had to know.
When the service finally ended, and they exited the church, people lingered in the churchyard, talking to their friends and neighbors.
With Miss Wells distracted by the nosey Mrs. Martin and Mama engaged in conversation with the priest, Evie saw her chance and headed toward Hugh. He met her halfway.
“Miss Everwood,” he said as they came together. His lovely dark eyes searched her face. “I’ve been wanting to ask how you are faring? The other day, you looked out of sorts. Are you—?”
“I need to talk to you,” she whispered, for there were a lot of people about. “It’s urgent. Can you spare a few moments for a childhood friend?”
Hugh paled, obviously realizing that Evie had overheard his comment to Miss Wells “Of course,” he said, looking over his shoulder, “but—”
“I don’t mean this minute. If we could find a time to talk soon. There’s something of great urgency I’d like to discuss—”
“There you are!” Miss Wells came forward and linked her arm in Hugh’s. “We simply must get going to Skipton. My aunt will be waiting for us. And after that, it will be a long journey back to London.”
“London?” Evie said, her heart sinking. Hugh was leaving already. How would she ever learn the truth?
Hugh must have seen the distress in her eyes because he turned to his betrothed and said, “Why don’t you go and wait in the carriage? I’ll join you in a minute.”
She, in turn, gave him the look of Medusa, but it only lasted for a second before she put a hand to her forehead and said, “Oh, I do feel quite lightheaded all of a sudden.” Then she stumbled backward.
Hugh leapt forward and caught hold of her. Other churchgoers turned to look. “Are you feeling unwell?” Hugh asked. “If so, perhaps we should not travel to Skipton. It can wait a day.”
“Oh no, my aunt would be so disappointed,” Miss Wells said. “If you can just help me to the carriage, I’m certain I’ll be fine when I am comfortably seated.”
“Of course,” Hugh said.
Miss Wells slipped her arm into Hugh’s and turned to Evie. “It was lovely to see you again, Miss Everwood,” she said.
Evie found she could do little more than nod as disappointment took hold of her throat, realizing that she was set to face another long term of uncertainty and wondering—perhaps forever—about her brother’s death.
*
Three days of rain followed Hugh’s departure.
On the fourth day, Evie could take no more.
She had to get outside, so as soon as the rain stopped, she slipped on her boots, grabbed her coat, and made for the moors.
Once outside, Evie could see dark clouds on the horizon.
Still, she decided to continue with her journey.
She simply could not stay cooped up in her home for one more day.
Mama had returned to her routine of sleeping all day, and Evie had attempted to take her mind off her worries by cleaning the house and making soups and fresh bread. But there was only so much soup and bread one could make.
As she trekked up the muddy heath toward her father’s and brother’s resting place, the rain started to come down again.
And by the time she reached the top of the summit, she was quite drenched.
She would likely catch her death, and then how would Mama manage without her?
But it was too late; she was soaked through and going back now wasn’t about to instantly change that.
She continued to Alfie’s memorial, marked by a makeshift cross, a few feet from the bog that had swallowed him.
Papa was buried beside it, his grave marked with a cross that matched Alfie’s.
She walked quickly, keeping her head down, refusing to look at the bog.
It made her too sad, thinking of her brother’s final moments.
The utter fear and suffering he must have endured.
Crouching in front of the crosses, she closed her eyes to say a silent prayer.
But something gave her pause. A sensation she was not alone.
A feeling someone was behind her. The skin on her neck prickled, and she turned.
There, through the downpour, she saw Hugh.
Evie froze, trying to process what she was seeing. Hugh was supposed to be in Skipton with his betrothed. What was he doing up here?
*
Hugh gazed at Evie. He’d been waiting for hours, and he would have waited for days if necessary. She’d asked him to spare a moment for her. Little did she know, he’d give his life for her.
Evie rose to her feet, and they stood in the rain, facing each other. A secret meeting on the moors, just like when their love first bloomed. If only life were still that simple. If only they were still that innocent.
He went to her, ready to receive the wrath he deserved, and confessed, “I haven’t been back here since that day. My best friend died, and I’ve never even visited his grave. You must think me such a coward, running away as I did.”
“Why did you?” she asked. There was no anger in her voice. It seemed she simply wanted to understand.
“I felt I didn’t have a choice. It seemed the only thing I could do. But it almost killed me to do it…to leave you.” God, he hated himself. Hated how cowardly he sounded. But how could he tell her the whole truth?
“Alfie told you his true feelings that night, didn’t he?” she said. “I know his secret now. You don’t have to hide it from me anymore.”
Hugh froze. She knows? That’s impossible. No one else knew. It was Alfie’s secret, and then his. Hugh had intended to take it to his grave.
“I found the drawings he made of you,” Evie said.
This did nothing to clarify things for Hugh. “The drawings?” he asked.
“Sketches Alfie made of you—your face, your profile, shirtless…” She brushed a thick strand of wet hair from her eyes. “You were his favorite subject, it seems.”
Hugh dropped his gaze but said nothing. Alfie was always sketching, but he hadn’t known that Alfie had been drawing him. Had he done them from memory?
“There’s a charcoal profile sketch of you.” She hesitated. “Alfie penned one of Shakespeare’s love sonnets beside it—the one that begins, ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day…’”
Hugh shifted his stance. He could not look Evie in the eyes.
“Did you become angry when he confessed his love for you? Is that why the two of you quarreled?”
The question came as a relief. Now was his chance to confess his sins. To tell Evie the whole truth, and to face his penance. “God forgive me, yes,” he said, raising his eyes to meet hers. “I was a brute. I told him to get away from me. I pushed him. I was cruel, Evie.”
Evie’s bottom lip trembled. “You were shocked, I imagine.”
“I was cruel,” he said, more forcefully. “That’s why he took off on Apollo, racing across the moors.”
“Why did you follow him?” Evie asked. “Did you intend to do him harm?”
“No, I swear it. I followed him because he was my best friend and your brother. I didn’t want anything to happen to him.
I knew how upset he was and how dangerous it could be to sprint across the uneven ground of the moors in the moonlight, even on a horse like Apollo.
But I just wanted things to return to how they were.
That night had started as one of the happiest of my life, and I wanted it to stay that way. ”
“What really happened then? Did Apollo truly throw Alfie into that bog or did you…”
Hugh closed his eyes, steeling himself to speak, before he opened them again. “Apollo stumbled, as I’d feared he would. Alfie was thrown, that part is true, but he didn’t land in the bog as I claimed. I saw him fall and dismounted to see if he was injured. He wasn’t. He stood up, and…”
“Oh, Lord no!” Evie covered her face with her hands. “The two of you did engage in fisticuffs as Papa claimed. And you pushed him into the bog by accident, didn’t you?” It seemed as though Evie was articulating her worst fear.
“No, I swear to you it wasn’t like that.
Alfie was mad with rage. He said that he’d make certain we never married.
He’d speak to your papa and convince him I was no good.
I pleaded with him not to. I begged him to think about what he was saying.
I tried to convince him that we could be brothers.
But he was hurt and humiliated. He wanted nothing to do with me.
Every time I took a step toward him, he would retreat.
This went on for our whole conversation, and neither of us was paying attention.
Then he stepped right into the bog, just with one foot.
He started to sink, but I acted fast, caught him by the arm, and pulled him out to safety. ”
“Oh, thank heavens!” Evie covered her mouth with her hands, and tears streamed down her face.
“And then…” Hugh blinked back tears and shook his head.
“What?” Evie said, her eyes wild with fear.
“He wrenched his arm out of my grip and pushed me away. I stumbled backward and fell to the ground. I didn’t want to fight anymore, so I sat where I fell and waited for him to get back on his horse and leave, but he just stood there looking at me.
Then…he…. smiled”—it had been a terrible, knowing, blithe smile—“and took a step backward into the bog with both feet.” The bog had made a squelching, sucking sound.
Soft. Accepting. Hungry. “Before I could even stand, he started sinking. It happened so fast…he didn’t cry out or struggle.
He kept looking straight at me and smiling as I screamed his name and tried to reach for him.
” Hugh struggled to keep his tears back, even now reaching to the bog as if he could somehow—finally—reach his friend and pluck him from death.
“He wouldn’t take my hand. I couldn’t get close enough and not fall in.
I just…I just stood there. I couldn’t help him.
I couldn’t do anything but watch my best friend disappear. ”
“No!” Evie shook her head. “Alfie would never do that! He’d never take his own life.”
If only that were the case. “That’s why I didn’t tell anyone the truth. I knew how much it would hurt you and your family. But when I saw you the other day, I realized how much you’d been suffering, not knowing the truth.”
Evie wrapped her arms around herself and sobbed. “I didn’t know him at all. My own brother! I didn’t know him. How alone he must have felt. How he must have suffered, knowing he could never be himself.”
“I blame myself. He thought I felt the same about him, for some reason. We were so close…he must have mistaken it for…I shouldn’t have been so harsh.” He took a step toward her, desperate to take her in his arms and offer her some comfort. But he dared not. “Can you ever forgive me?’ he asked.
She looked at him. “It’s not your fault. I never believed it was,” she said. “I only feared I might have been wrong. Can you forgive me for that?”
Just then, a fury of galloping horses sounded across the moors. It was followed by the unmistakable wail of a woman. Hugh shivered but didn’t cry out in surprise.
Evie stiffened and her eyes widened. “There! There it is again! The omen of the doomed lovers. We heard it the night you asked me to marry you, and then everything fell apart, as I told you it would.”
“You’re wrong,” Hugh said. “It’s not an omen.” One thing he’d not told Evie, and wouldn’t tell her now, was a secret he’d take to his grave with him.
Alfie had not been alone in the bog. A young woman with flowing dark hair, had stood behind Hugh’s friend, watching him sink.
At the time, he couldn’t rationalize why she wasn’t sinking or even where she’d come from. All he could do was plead with her. Help him! He’d cried. Please, he’ll die. But she never moved. She just stood there, watching with dark eyes, a small, knowing smirk on her pale face.
The wailing continued, and Evie put her hands over her ears. “Make it stop!”
“Evie,” he said, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. “Listen to me. It’s not an omen. It’s a sign we are meant to be together. The lovers are searching for one another, and they can never be whole again until they are together—just like us.”
She looked up at him, her beautiful blue eyes searching his face. “But what of your betrothed, Miss Wells?”
“I left her in Skipton with her family. Did you think after I saw you again, I would be able to marry another?” The wailing woman and thundering horses’ hooves got louder.
Hugh looked out onto the moor. “It might be too late for them, but it’s not too late for us.
” He turned to her. “Is it? Please say it’s not. ”
She paused. The wailing built to a screech.
“It’s not,” Evie said, and then again, against his chest.
The wailing suddenly stopped.
He held her tight, as the moors grew silent and peaceful. “They’re gone,” Hugh said. “Their work is done. Love has been restored.”