“I’m so sorry.” Lowering her hand, Anna’s gentle voice coated the boyhood sorrows that had never left.
Again, he kept his attention at the fire. “I took over Father’s smithy. Though I was young, I was strong and worked harder than I ever had to keep food in our bellies.” The memories loomed, some shadowed from time, some clear as present day. “Mother, Julia, and Jane brought in extra by laundering when they had the strength and mending when they did not.”
When she appeared in his mind, the bitter palate he’d tried to forget began to singe his tongue. “’Twas four years later when I met Anna Muhr.”
Anna’s dainty eyebrows peaked.
“Aye, she carried your given name.” Exhaling the memories in a heavy sigh, William continued. “I imagined myself in love from the moment I saw her. She was from far too wealthy a family to ever be courted by one of my station, but somehow she made me believe such things meant little to her and that only her father refused our union.” Flowered memories turned brown and brittle. “She carried my heart for three years until the day she came to me weeping, claiming her father had died, leaving her with his debts she had never known of and saying if there was no way to pay them, she would be forced to leave England forever.”
As clear as the moment itself,
her deception burned and his chest grew tight. “She begged me through her tears to help and in my innocence I believed she wished my assistance so we could finally be wed now her father was gone.”
The pain of his regrets stabbed and ran a hand over his mouth. “Of course my mother and sisters knew of her, they knew how much I loved her and how I would have given anything to make her my wife. When I explained to them her need, not even considering that what few pounds we had could never make a difference, they insisted I take our savings and give it to her. They believed, as I did, that it would assure our future together.”
Darkness lurked in the corners of his soul. “When I offered all I had, she took it with hardly a word of gratitude and left. No mention of where she was going or when she might return. But in my youthful ignorance I believed she would come to me within a few days at least, and report that our painful wait was over and that at last she was free to follow her heart and be my wife. But she did not.”
“She did not?” The sweet shock in her face tightened the binding of her soul to his.
“Nay.” He moved away from the fire and rested his back against the space between the mantel and bedchamber door. “I searched for her for three months, frantic that something had happened. I knew she would never simply leave without telling me, unless something dreadful had befallen her.” He stalled, the cold rain of that misty October day drawing him away from the warm kitchen fire, to the dank London street. “But then I saw her in town, leaving the market, clinging to the arm of another man.”
“No…”
The memory, so thick, chilled his skin. “I rushed forward and questioned her, fearing perhaps she had been taken against her will, but the smile on her face spoke otherwise.” He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “She smiled as if she hardly knew me and introduced me to her husband of two months—a man who stared at me as if I were unworthy to shoe his horse.” The rage and shame he’d wrestled still thumped in his pulse. “She said nothing of the money I had given, spoke nothing of the grief she had caused. Only offered my mother and sisters her best.” He pressed a hard laugh from his nose. “I had never been so ashamed.”
“But how were you to know? ’Tis she who must be ashamed for doing such a wretched thing.”
“’Tis I who am to blame. I should have known. I should never have fallen for her charms.” He ground his teeth. “Of course mother and my sisters were grieved for my sorrows, but they could never know how deeply I felt it. My deepest regrets were not over a lost love, but for what they had sacrificed for me. I had taken our money—their money—and given it to a woman who cared only for herself. The medicines they needed to ease their discomforts were…” The ache in his throat thickened. “We could hardly earn enough to pay for them as it was, and now with everything gone, I knew I must do something. My skills as a blacksmith were poor at best, despite my efforts, and the shame I felt every time I saw their pains—their suffering from what I had done—I could bear it no longer. Knowing I could regain my honor and provide more for those I loved by going abroad, I joined—”
Every bit of him stopped, his tongue still waiting at the back of his teeth to finish the words he’d started. Slowly, William closed his mouth, berating himself for what he had nearly revealed. He closed his eyes. Tomorrow. Tomorrow when the shadows are past…
“My love?” Anna craned her neck to view him from her spot at his side.
William blinked, grasping for an answer that would save him from the edge of the cliff he clung to. “I joined with those coming to the colonies in search of fortune. I sent my family everything I earned…” His mind lost hold and he fell backward into the cold, haunting dreams he’d tried so hard to forget. “’Twas last March I learned of their passing. My efforts had not been enough to save them.”
Anna rushed to him, filling the space between them, her innocent, pleading eyes darting back and forth between his. “You must not think that, my love. What a terrible burden you place on yourself.”
“I would have forever labored under the belief that the desire for the things of this world were at the root of a woman’s heart, but for you.” He kissed her forehead, needing to free himself from the pain of the pity that pooled in her eyes. “For that, I will praise God all my days and pray that with the passing of years the grief of my actions will not haunt me as they have.”
She took his hand in hers, holding him motionless with the sudden strength that owned her soft features. “And for those years I will be with you. I—” She lurched and flung one hand to her mouth, the other to her stomach.
William reached for the nearest pot and she yanked it forward, retching the meager contents of her stomach.
“Forgive me,” she said, panting. “This nausea comes in waves…”
Worry gripped as William helped her to sit. Relieving her of the pot, he crouched in front of her. “Give me your word that you will see Nathaniel tomorrow. If something is truly wrong—”
“I am well, William.”
“Nay, you are not. This has gone on far too long.”
She nodded, her shoulders slumping. “I shall visit Nathaniel in the morning.”
He helped her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her as he walked with her to the bedchamber.
She patted his arm as she sat on the bed. “Tomorrow everything will be well. Nathaniel will tell me everything is well, I am sure of it.”
He bent and kissed the top of her hair. Aye, tomorrow. Tomorrow.