Among the Darkness Stirs

Audrey didn’t try it argue. It would get her nowhere. “Of course, Mother. As you wish.”

Later that night, Audrey put her small purse on the table and dumped out the contents. The little wooden lamb tumbled out, and she stared at it. She had forgotten all about the small gift for her sister. She thought suddenly of Frances and bit her lip to stop the tears. What was to become of them? Her mother’s side didn’t speak to them, and there was no one on her father’s side.

What would they do? When Mr. Felton had mentioned the sum of money, she had been shocked. Like her mother, she assumed her father had always been careful and would provide for them when he was gone. Instead, they were left with the upsetting knowledge that they had fifty pounds to survive on. Even if Mr. Felton could persuade the parish to take no money for their living arrangements, that only bought them some time.

She stood up and rubbed her hand along her lower back. What could they do? Her mother could take in sewing. She might be able to take in laundry. But how much would that bring in and what did they need to live on?

She paced the room several times before a thought came to her. She would seek out Dr. Thomson! He had been a good friend of her father’s, and he was an educated, trusted man. He might have an idea that she had not thought of. Once they spoke and he understood their situation, he might have an answer.

She felt a little relieved at the thought of speaking to Dr. Thomson, but their circumstances concerned her. She had never given much thought to their way of life or what money they had. Her father had been a vicar, and their house had been provided by the church. She had felt secure and safe within their small family.

When she had gone to the Queen’s College for her education, she had missed her family but had known that, at the end, she would return to be with them. The sights and sounds of London had been exciting and diverting. She had visited the Victoria and Albert Museum, the National History Museum, the London Zoo, and had walked through Regent’s Park and Hyde Park.

At the end of her time spent at college and visiting the various sights in the grand metropolitan city, she knew she would return home to her family and be loved and cared for. Now she felt an emptiness inside her breast, and she knew that it would not be filled. She must be strong for her mother and sister, but all she really wanted was her father’s arms around her.

She looked at her small bookcase nestled near the window, spied a small volume, and took it in hand. She brushed her palm over the title. English Nursery Rhymes. She skimmed through the pages and stopped at one. “I Had a Little Nut Tree.”

She remembered her father reading it to her as a little girl and she delighted in the rhyme.

I had a little nut tree,

Nothing would it bear,

But a silver nutmeg

And a golden pear;

The King of Spain’s daughter

Came to visit me,

And all for the sake

Of my little nut tree.

Her dress was made of crimson,

Jet-black was her hair,

She asked me for my nutmeg

And my golden pear.

I said, “So fair a princess

Never did I see,

I’ll give you all the fruit

From my little nut tree.”

A sense of loss washed over her, so extreme she was forced to close the book. Tears slipped down her cheek. She would not stop them. She would not even brush them away. She had lost her dearest father, and she missed him terribly.

The next morning, after Audrey had washed her face, she pulled on her black mourning gown. She had not enjoyed wearing it for her cousin, but she liked wearing it now. It was respectful to her father, and it proclaimed her loss to the world. She wanted her loss to be known. She didn’t want people seeing her in a blue linen dress and assuming she was happy with the world around her. She was nothing of the sort.

When she came into the small dining room, the table had been set, and there was a pot of tea with several slices of bread and cheese upon it. She poured herself a cup of tea and took the cup into the front parlor. She sat upon the window seat that looked onto the grassy lane. She could see the large oak tree that surveyed all with its majestic bearing and looked forward to the delicate snowdrops that would appear in spring. It was a quiet morning. The milkman would make his delivery soon, if he had not already.

The Daily Telegraph would also arrive in the morning, as her father had loved to keep abreast of local events and the world at large. She had always been pleased when, after he had taken his turn of the paper, he would hand it over to her with the words, “Here you are, Audrey. Now solve the world’s problems before supper.”