Remembrance

At that statement, Alida was sure the old woman’s husband knew more than he was telling his naive wife, but, whatever the reason for the secrecy, she was very glad that the children knew nothing of their birth. If these two old people were killed, and if, by chance, the children were left alive, they could not come to her and demand sustenance—or recognition. They would not know to come to her and, more important, to John.

Meg took advantage of the momentary silence, and of her completely relaxed state, to explain the reason for her long journey, the reason for risking the wrath of her husband. “I need money to hire a teacher for them,” she said all in one breath.

Alida understood at once. So this is why the woman was here. Of course it was inconceivable that Alida would pay to educate that boy. If he did somehow escape the death she had planned for him, she would not want to give him the advantages of an education. Besides, she did not want to part with money for even an instant. Nearly losing everything had made her very careful of her money.

Meg knew what Alida was at, knew why she was stalling. She didn’t want her husband reminded of Talis. So now, Meg thought, was her time to be clever.

Meg began to talk, saying what she’d thought of over the days of her long walk. “It’s not right for the children to be left uneducated,” Meg said with determination. She had r

esolved to be utterly firm on this matter. “They must have a tutor, someone to educate them to their station in life.”

When Meg saw her ladyship hesitate, she plunged a knife in. “It is all my husband and I can do to feed young Talis. He grows so fast we can’t keep him in clothes. Did I tell you that he is near as tall as me and he is only nine? I am sure the master would be delighted to see him.”

Alida stalled for time while she thought. In the past she had had no time for planning. On the night of the fire she had made mistakes, but this time she wanted to make things right. “You want to educate the boy,” she said graciously, doing all she could to keep the hatred from her voice. She now understood that this horrid woman was trying to blackmail her, to threaten her that if she was not given the money for a tutor, she would present this healthy boy to John.

“Oh no!” Meg said. “They must both go to school. You cannot give one something and not give it to the other. They could not bear to be separated.”

“Oh? And what would happen if they were separated?” Alida said, smiling, but thinking how much she disliked this old woman.

“It would destroy them,” Meg said simply and with utter honesty. “Have you not understood? They are not two people. They are only one person. They are two halves of a whole. They do not exist one without the other.”

Again, Alida felt the hairs on her neck rise as she remembered her prayer nine years ago. Two halves of a whole. One spirit divided into half.

“Yes, yes, come tomorrow and I will give you the money,” Alida said hastily. Yes, she thought, come tomorrow and I will have everything arranged. I will find out where you live and I will have all of you annihilated.

Understanding that she was being dismissed, Meg started to leave, but when she stood, she was unsteady on her feet. She did not want to come back tomorrow. Maybe it was because her senses were different because of the drink or because of something else, but suddenly, she wished very much that she hadn’t made this trip. She wished she had talked to Will about all of this. Maybe Will could have found a way to afford a teacher for the children. Maybe Will could have—

Meg didn’t think anymore because all hell broke loose in the house as the maid Penella came running into the room to tell her ladyship that one of her daughters had just caught herself on fire.

“Wait for me here,” Alida said, then gathered her skirts and ran from the room.

For a moment, Meg sat where she was, not moving, too sleepy and heavy to move. Wearily, she rested her head against the back of the chair and for just a few seconds she dozed.

She was dreaming and she knew she was dreaming but it didn’t make any difference. There seemed to be something she had to remember, but couldn’t. She and Will and the children were running, running through the woods at night, allowing no one to see them. In the dream, Meg was in a daze, the two babies clasped to her in a sling Will had rigged for her. He wanted to carry one child while she carried the other, but the babies screamed so when they were apart.

“Come, Meg, we must go,” he whispered to her after one very short rest. “She will come after us soon.”

With a start, Meg awoke and she was as clear-headed as she could be, considering the amount of wine she had consumed. She, Will had said. “She will come after us soon.” Quite suddenly, Meg understood everything. It was Lady Alida who had set the fire that night, trying to kill the boy who threatened her own children’s futures.

Suddenly, things that Meg had not remembered for years began to come back to her, things that had been said that night when she’d first come to the children. Now she understood why Will had insisted on secrecy all these years. Meg remembered all the times she had argued with him, saying it wouldn’t hurt the children to go into the village now and then. Will rarely allowed them to go into the village except on market day and then only because he needed the help. Talis was great at selling produce, while Callie had a talent for displaying the wares so everyone wanted to buy from them.

Now Meg understood. She understood why no one had come for the children, why no one was ever going to come for them. These people thought she and the children had died that night in the fire. And Lady Alida had set the fire.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was a mother’s instinctive protection that made rage run through her body. In that moment, Meg learned how to hate. This woman, this…this lady had tried to kill one innocent child and had not cared that her own daughter would be killed in the process.

Standing, Meg knew that she must get out of this place and get home. And what is more, she was convinced that Lady Alida owed the children for what she had done to them.

Without another thought, not even for her immortal soul, Meg took a short, heavy silver candlestick off the mantelpiece and secreted it inside her skirt.

The next moment she was running down the stairs, her face red with fear, her heart pounding. She had not gone three steps when a woman came running up to meet her with orders from her ladyship that she was to stay the night.

What would Callie say to this? Meg thought. If she had Callie’s clever brain what would one of her story princesses say to get herself out of this mess?

“Stay the night?” Meg gasped. “Have you not heard? This house is on fire.”

“No, Lady Joanna fell against a log and her skirt caught on fire.”

“I was there. I heard Lady Alida say that is what people are to be told. She is worried that everyone will run away and there will be no one to help put out the fire. But I do not want to risk being burned to death. Let me pass!”