“Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds Of May.” #2
“No,” she cried as she drew back. “More. The seatbox had holes at either end, to prevent damp, grills on the inside, painted on the outside as part of Papa’s crest. I-I slid a grill aside, put my eye to one, the lanterns by the coachman’s seat casting a faint light through the rain.
A figure dressed in black held two pistols.
Papa stood on the wet grass as another man began to search him.
I closed my eyes, thought it would soon be over.
Papa would hand over all he had on him and the men would leave and we would hug and be ever so thankful…
” Her voice faltered, cheeks moist with tears.
“But they saw Father’s wedding ring. His precious ring that he’d never taken off.
Father tried to reason with them, said it had no value as Mother had brought it when they’d been young but…
but the highwayman hit him.” Her breath hitched.
“Our coachman yelled – I could not see him, my vision limited to that circle – and I-I do not know, it was all so quick. The highwayman twisted and I heard a shot, a thud. My father bellowed, grabbed hold of the highwayman’s sleeve and he turned and, and he…
shot him. He just shot him.” She shoved hands to her eyes.
“I remember the burst of flame from the gun. The smoke in the damp air. And then there was Father, lying there in the wet grass, his legs awry, and I saw…blood, so much blood, so black in the light of the lantern. Covering his cream waistcoat. I wanted to run to him, hold him. Maybe I… But his face was to the side and I could see his eyes…eyes I shall never forget, so empty, staring through the rain and…”
Miles yanked her back into his arms, held her shuddering body, discovered his own hands were trembling.
He remembered the first time a comrade had been killed during battle, watching as he fell, helpless to do aught.
But that had been war and they’d all known what could befall them, but it didn’t lessen the anger and fear, the hopelessness and the terror.
And for Verity to see her own father and their coachman murdered while stuffed in a seatbox with only a peep hole…
Those black paintings were her purged memories.
But dear heaven… “Verity, I have not the words. I’m so sorry.
” He smothered her hair with endless presses of his lips.
“Then my vision blurred, I couldn’t see,” she stuttered.
“The gunshot still rang in my ears, so loud, breath caught in my throat, my whole being had been shattered in an instant.” Her lashes raised.
“I felt the carriage tilt as one of the men climbed the step, heard a boot on the floor; he kicked the seatbox, rattled the lid but…but the other was shouting that the shots would’ve been heard, that they had a purse and…
and a ring. I heard a curse before the carriage tilted again.
Then departing hooves. Then silence. Just silence. ”
Her words likewise settled to naught, only the ticking clock on the mantelpiece, indifferent to human tragedies, continued its relentless advance.
“And that seatbox was locked,” Miles said gruffly. “You were in there all night? With your father and the coachman outside…”
A nod and he crushed her closer.
“I couldn’t move anyway. I was frozen. I…I felt my chest constricting as though the very air had turned to stone. My heart pounding in my ears. Papa was gone and…a terrible blackness hit me, of bitter agony and cruel disbelief. Then…then nothing. I remember nothing.”
It was Miles’ turn to ram his eyes shut. But even there, he saw his Verity alone and so scared and he so desperately wanted to reach out into the past and make it all different. Rearrange the pieces.
But then, didn’t everyone want that at some point?
A choice to unmake? An event to undo? A word to unsay? A death to prevent?
Yet time moved faithfully onward; the heart, less compliant, left yearning for what might have been.
“How were you found?”
“The next thing I knew, the wheels of the carriage were trundling beneath me, dawn filtering through the small grill. I had no sense of where I was or who was out there, but we finally came to a halt and I heard voices, familiar voices, Jenkins, and I-I hammered on the lid. Hammered and hammered. Then the wood splintered and… Never have I seen such light, such bright light. And there bathed in it was Jenkins. I… I remember little after that. Was in such delirium for so many days with nightmares so awful.”
“My Verity.” For a while, Miles just held her as she trembled.
He wished there was something he could say to ease the pain etched within her, but there were no words for what had happened, and within him only anger, which he knew served no purpose, and sorrow, such a deep sorrow.
“The newspaper articles and obituary of your father. None mentioned you were in that carriage. And then, your letters to me…”
“Great-Aunt Lucia decided… I do not know if it was for the best, but she decided that no one should know. I was only seventeen. I would be ruined, people would believe the highwaymen had…had…” She shook her head.
“By the time the delirium had left me, the deed was done, a story told. The household was loyal and I had been in my bed all night.”
His chin rested gently atop her head. His embrace wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, but it was all he had to give her. “So that is when this fear began.”
“At first, it was inescapable – my bedroom at night with the curtains drawn, in the parlour with no windows. The carriage that took me to place flowers on…on my father’s grave. Such a terror would clutch at my chest, such a suffocation descend, the same as that awful night.”
“I so wish I’d been there. If I’d known I would have come at once. Why didn’t you tell me in your letters, Verity? Why?”
“I wanted to. More than anything. You were my love. My true friend and yet… When the delirium lifted, I was no longer the same girl. I was…so afraid. Of everything, my own shadow. Ashamed of my weakness. I did not know how long it would last and your own letters… Your beautiful letters with our dreams of travel, side by side. Of ships and their cabins, places I could not be. You were ready to go, and I realised… I realised our dreams were ones I could no longer share with you.”
Miles drew back, cupped her cheeks in his palms. “So that is why you spurned my love that night. For my sake.”
She fiddled with the cuff of her night rail.
Swallowed. “At this moment, I could nod and end our conversation. Say that I had to let you go because of my affliction.” Her lashes quivered like the last petals of autumn.
“I could say yes in answer to your question, and that would be that but… But it would not be the entire truth.” Her chin lifted a fraction.
“You were always so brave and noble, Miles, and I…I cannot withhold that entire truth from you.”
Miles tilted his head, his voice gruff. “I don’t understand. What more can there be?”
She drew away a touch, sat straight, her skin wan.
Then looked to him with eyes saturated with sadness.
“You have to remember that I was now under the guardianship of Sir Oswald, male heir to my father’s estate, a relative I barely knew, and he and Great-Aunt Lucia…
They sought the advice of doctors for my condition, for I could not even walk the passage that led to the kitchens without feeling as though the walls would swallow me whole.
I was prodded and questioned. Placed in a small room so they could witness my reaction. ”
“Of all the bloody stupi–”
She placed a hand to his lips. “The doctors did what they thought best, and I cannot blame my relatives for that, but… The doctors…they persuaded them that my condition…my hysteria, my madness, as they called it, could be better dealt with… Where for a short while at least, they could…” Her voice lowered. “Study it.”
Miles shook his head. “Oh, no.” And again. “No, Verity. Don’t tell me, please don’t tell me, they sent you to a…a…”
Her lips trembled. “An asylum? For the insane? Why, yes, they did.”