Among the Darkness Stirs

“Madame, I meant no disrespect,” Felton said. “I don’t know how the money disappeared. I only know it did.”

Augusta shook her head. “It makes no sense. He was so careful. Wasn’t he, Audrey?” She looked at her daughter. “Always watching the coins. Making sure they stretched. I don’t understand.”

“I know you said the money wouldn’t last a year. I can speak to the parish and see if perhaps they can let the rent go until you have time to get on your feet. That way, you don’t have to worry about your lodgings,” he said kindly.

“Speak to the parish? What on earth do you mean? That’s our home. It has been since…” Augusta’s words trailed away.

“I would like to help you, madame. Let me speak to them on your behalf,” he told her. “It can help bide your time.”

“This is too absurd,” Augusta repeated, rising from her seat. “Too absurd!”

“Madame—” Felton tried to speak to her.

“Come, Audrey. We’re leaving,” she said and stormed out of the room in a rush of black silk.

Audrey looked at the elderly gentleman with his tired eyes. “Please, Mr. Felton, please speak to the parish. Any help you can give my family is appreciated, as is theirs.”

“Of course, I will, my dear. And should you need anything, please come see me. I am sorry about this.”

Audrey made her way outside to the carriage. Her mother was seated inside, and she joined her. It was several minutes before her mother spoke to her.

“I don’t know what to say.” She shook her head. “If Mr. Felton wasn’t so well-regarded in the village, I might think he had taken the money.”

“Surely not, Mother. He’s a man of intelligence and, as you said, well-regarded. Something must have happened. Father needed money or someone else did and he gave it to them.”

Augusta sat up at this. “Of course! That’s it! One of those beggars at his services told him some sob story and he believed it. How often did I tell him that people would say whatever they wanted for his purse?”

Audrey sighed, feeling sorry for her mother. “Mother, Father wasn’t gullible. He had a good heart. A kind heart.”

“Yes, well, his kind heart has led us to this. Poverty.” Augusta spat out the last word. “What will become of us now? Answer me that.”

Audrey had already been thinking of this. “What about my uncle Gilead?” Gilead was her mother’s brother, a man she had never met but heard her mother speak of.

Her mother flushed red and turned her head away. “My family disowned me when I wed your father. They thought a mere vicar was not good enough for me. Or, more accurately, for them. That I loved him did not matter.”

“But he’s gone. Maybe they would welcome a reconciliation,” Audrey asked.

Her mother shook her head firmly. “I won’t stoop to writing them. Why should I? They never cared before. I wrote them years ago when you were born. I practically begged them to come to your christening. They didn’t even bother to respond.”

Audrey bit her lip. “Would you like me to try? Maybe they might—”

“Certainly not,” Augusta interrupted, shooting her a sharp glance. “I absolutely forbid it.”

“Very well.”

They sat in silence as the carriage swayed.

“Did Father have anyone? Where are his people? He never spoke of them.”

August sighed. “Because there’s no one. His parents died before you were born. He had a brother, but I recall he joined the Royal Navy, went to sea, and was never heard from again.”

Audrey looked out the window and felt a sense of isolation. She had her mother and her sister, but her father was gone. He had been the one to bring in the money, to keep a roof over their heads, and now he was gone. A sense of unease spread through her.

“We have time, Audrey. We have some money,” Augusta told her.

“We do, Mother. But we should be thinking of what to do now, not months down the line when we will have to scramble.”

Her mother waved the topic away. “Let’s leave it for now. I don’t feel up to the discussion.”