In Deepest Darkness
Frantically Edmund pulled the heavy drawer from his dresser. The stone was not there. He turned and dashed down the stairs, bursting in through the closed doors of his father's library. The three gentlemen seated before his father's desk turned in surprise. Straight to his father's desk Edmund ran. "Where is it? What have you done with it?" he shouted. John Murray rose to his full height and stepped around his desk.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said to the three men who remained seated before him, their patrician lips lifted in arrogant sneers. Grabbing the teen's arm tightly he pulled his son out of the library. He closed the doors with one hand as he held the struggling boy with the other. Then he raised his hand and slapped his son's face as hard as he could.
"Stop this! A gentleman never interrupts another, and he never, never rants uncontrollably. Have you no pride at all?"
Again the tall man slapped the boy's face, then grasping him by both arms shook him as hard as his strong frame would allow. He pulled the boy toward the stairway. Edmund planted his feet against his father's pull. Lord Dunsmore again slapped the boy's face, this time cutting Edmund's lip with his heavy signet ring. The downstairs butler Joseph appeared and between the two men they dragged the raging, bleeding boy up the stairs to his room.
In the library the three guests smirked at each other and refilled their glasses with Lord Dunsmore's fine port. The eldest gentleman brushed his hand against his coat in a gesture easily understood by the other two. Lord Dunsmore would be well rid of such filth as that wild dark-skinned half-breed bastard. The three men sipped the Earl's wine and chuckled viciously.
Upstairs the two men tried to restrain the struggling boy inside his own room. Though slender, Edmund was very strong. As they wrestled together Henry entered the room, grabbed the struggling teen's wrists and pulled. Edmund fell to the floor, the valet still holding on.
Henry lay on the floor holding the boy's wrists. Lord Dunsmore lay across his struggling body. Joseph tried to grab the boy's flailing feet and got kicked in the mouth. The blow split both lips and blood dripped onto the polished wooden floor. Emma rushed into the room and stood with her hands over her mouth.
"Go out to the stable and get one of the grooms to give you a stout rope. Bring it to me along with a large kitchen knife. Now!" Lord Dunsmore barked. Emma scurried out of the door and the three men continued to wrestle with the out-of-control boy.
His father's heavy body stretched over his ribs made breathing difficult, and after a short time Edmund was severely out of breath. But the injustice done to him and the resulting rage would not allow him to accept defeat. He continued to struggle. Less than a minute later the roaring in his ears joined with the explosions behind his eyes and he tipped into the smothering darkness.
He awoke some time later still in complete darkness. As his eyes adjusted he realized that he was in his own room, sitting against the footboard of his own bed. His wrists were tied to the footboard with a heavy rope. His head ached and his stomach churned. Memory returned, and a quivering sigh escaped his dry lips. He was very thirsty.
Shame washed over him as he remembered his behavior. No Cherokee warrior would lose his temper that way. The theft of his mother's rock was unforgivable, true, but his angry display would not recover the stone. His mind began to work on the problem. What would his father have done with the rock? Thrown it outside with the other rocks, of course. All he had to do was to find it and hide it more carefully. But where?
The answer came to him like a flash of lightning. Hide it in plain sight, as he should have done before. Put it with the other rocks in one of the flower beds. Only he would know where it was and he could sneak out at night and hold it in his hand, as he had often done when it was hidden in his dresser. He had been a fool. Never again would he make such an error.
He sighed heavily and dropped his head onto his chest. Tears stung his eyes and he blinked them away. He would not cry. And he would not bend. But he would survive. That would be his revenge upon Lord Dunsmore and all that he represented.
When the morning light lit the room Emma came in with clean towels. She did not look at the boy still tied to the bed, his wrists raw and bloody. Her footsteps woke the dozing boy and he lifted his head. He could feel the blood crusted around his mouth where his lip had been cut. His mouth was very dry and swallowing was difficult. He tried to speak, and had to clear his throat before he could make himself heard.
"May I have a drink, please?" he managed to whisper.
Emma glanced out of the open door, then brought the full pitcher from his nightstand and tipped it against the boy's lips. He drank thirstily for several seconds. She quickly replaced the pitcher and scurried from the room. Seconds later the Earl stood in the doorway, his eyes cold and his face controlled. He stared at his son tied to the bed, his head fallen forward and his wrists bleeding.
"Are you ready to control yourself, Edmund?"
The boy raised his head and replied, "Yes, sir."
"Then I will have Henry release you within the hour. Clean yourself and have breakfast. Your tutors will be waiting. And as for that rock that brought about your disgraceful display of temper, it is gone. It was a rock. An object unworthy of any notice. One of a million scattered around this property. For the sake of a stone you caused my associates to witness your display of barbarism. You will send a written apology to each of them, today. In this apology you will denounce your heathenish behavior and beg their forgiveness. Am I making myself clear?"
Edmund raised his dark eyes to his father's. The Earl's haughty expression relayed power. In accordance with the promise he had made to himself during the long hours of the night, the boy released his breath and replied calmly.
"Yes sir."
The Earl spun on his heel and Edmund could hear his heavy footsteps descending the stairs. His empty stomach growled uncomfortably. Cramped and sore from the battle last evening, he shifted to try and ease his cramping shoulder muscles. Several minutes later Henry released him, and another day began.
Months later Edmund easily passed the entrance examinations for Oxford. His tutors were given a large bonus for their success. He was assigned a room with a single bed and a single desk. He understood that this was a punishment and he pretended to be upset with the assignment. But he was secretly very pleased.
The reason for his isolation was not pleasing. He suspected that it was because of his Indian blood; no one would want to share space with a half-breed wild man from the colonies even if he was the son of an Earl. Fleetingly he wondered what the Earl had promised the headmaster to ensure his admittance.
Henry unloaded his trunk and unpacked. He hung Edmund's clothes in the small closet. The toiletries were placed neatly on the small dressing table. He made the narrow bed and placed the clean towels upon the towel rack. Then he bowed to the youth and left the small room.
Alone, Edmund looked out of the narrow window upon the courtyard. He did not recognize a single person passing below his window. Loneliness was a very familiar feeling, but it was still unpleasant. Longing for his boyhood friends washed over him and he willed the emotion away.
His hand sought the speckled rock hidden in his pocket. The smooth surface was reassuring, as though his mother's hand was softly caressing his cheek and smoothing back his short black hair. "Mother", he whispered to the empty room. "I promise to make you proud. Someday I will return and take my rightful place among your people. This I vow."
A bell rang somewhere in the building. Doors banged open as boys rushed through the hall and down the stairs. Edmund opened his door and surveyed the passing throng. Two boys stopped their headlong rush and stepped to his side.
"I say, you're new, hey? Come on! That's the dinner bell. Everyone is to be in the dining hall within five minutes or you get a demerit." The speaker was a blonde boy several inches shorter than Edmund. His blue eyes radiated friendliness and joy.
"Come on, Masterson, let's go." The other boy was nearly as tall as Edmund. He had light brown hair and light brown eyes. His eyes were filled with curiosity as he looked at the tall Cherokee youth. "What's your name?"
Edmund's mind quickly discarded his first name. That was what his father called him. He realized the freedom that would come with a new name and replied, "Kerr. Kerr Murray." He smiled to himself at the Anglicized version of his Cherokee name's first syllable.
The boy called Masterson grabbed Edmund's arm and pulled him out into the hall. The throng swept the three teens along with it. They rushed down the two flights of stairs and out into the courtyard. Opposite was the large dining hall. The boys took three chairs together, standing respectfully until all the Masters were seated at the head table. The signal was given and the entire roomful of boys sat. A long table blessing was given and then the food began to arrive.
Edmund carefully copied the other boys. The friendly blonde boy turned to him and began a conversation. Grateful for the offering of friendship, Edmund replied with more warmth than he had given to anyone since stepping off of the ship four years before.
Joey Masterson was the son of a well-connected merchant in London. The boy on Edmund's left was Calvin Cushing, the oldest son of the college's resident dominie. Together the two boys provided Edmund with all the necessary information and gossip currently circulating through the college's student body. Silently he absorbed their messages and their friendship. The cold crust carefully protecting his heart began to melt. He even managed to smile at one of Joey's tales, and the blonde boy laughed delightedly.
When the Masters finished their meal another bell rang and all the boys stood at attention as the elders left the dining hall. The boys left table by table and returned to their respective dormitories. Calvin asked to see Edmund's schedule. Together he and Joey drew a map to show Edmund where all of his respective classes were located and the best route to get to them.
At eight o'clock another bell sounded. Joey and Calvin rose to go to their own room. They explained that the bell signaled the end of the day and all the boys were to be in bed by 8:30 lights out. If not, they received a demerit. Demerits equaled a loss of privileges.
Edmund thanked them for all of their help and bid them good night. Alone again in his room he rubbed his teeth with a clean washcloth and then washed his face and body using the water contained in the pitcher placed on his night stand. Stripping his clothing off and hanging it neatly in the closet he stood naked in the dark room and said his Cherokee prayers. Then with no one to forbid it, he slipped under the sheet totally unclothed and fell into a deep sleep.
He was at the college for several weeks before his saw his father again. It was All Saint's Day. Edmund was forced to endure the hours' long church service beside his father, celebrating the lives of the saints. The day was also his own birthday but no celebration was planned for that. Indeed, his father did not even acknowledge the event. The only reason that Edmund knew it was his birthday was that he had seen his Oxford enrollment papers on his father's desk months ago and noticed the birth date.
He had seen Joey Masterson's family come and take him for a birthday celebration just days before. His own birthday stood in stark contrast and his sensitive soul was wounded. But he was not surprised. It was further verification that his father considered him an unwanted accident, an inconvenient burden. He was nothing more than a duty required by the family. He spent the entire afternoon after the service alone in the upstairs room of his father's Oxford apartment, mourning for his mother. His father remained shut in the room below, alone with his memories.
Late into the night the Earl sat alone. Before him lay a crumpled paper, the lines blurred with tears. He had found it on the floor beside Edmund's desk while the boy was outside in the small garden. Taking it into his hands once more, John Murray read the simple lines:
In deepest darkness here I lie
I see your bier against the sky
No thought of you from him you loved
Your son alone to mourn.
I'm captive here so far away
From where we used to sing and play
Kentucky's wild free land my home.
I was unfairly torn.
I will go back for this I vow
I make the promise to you now
The speckled stone a monument
Though weathered smooth and worn.
The uncensored lines pierced his heart. But he was incapable of allowing the raw emotion to influence his charted course. He had a duty to his family, and he would perform that duty no matter what the consequences. And so would his son, the wild Cherokee boy with the bleeding heart. The Earl crumpled the tear-stained paper in his hand and threw it into the fire. The boy left for class the following morning, pale and silent. The Earl did not tell him goodbye. He remained barricaded in his room. Duty was sometimes a cruel master and the boy may as well learn the lesson now.
The Christmas holiday arrived soon after. Edmund was not looking forward to leaving the dormitory and the companionship of the other two boys. His examinations were completed and his marks sent by post to his father. He knew that he had done well. His reluctance stemmed from the looming weeks that must soon be spent in his father's presence.
December 23rd the coach arrived to bear him home. Henry packed his necessary belongings, then carried the trunk out to the coach. Edmund slowly followed. Behind him Joey Masterson called his farewell. Edmund turned and waved at the smiling blonde boy. Then he stepped into the carriage and steeled himself for the homecoming.
His father was not at home when he arrived. Henry carried the trunk to his former bedroom and unpacked it. Edmund went to stand by the tall mullioned window that looked out onto the now brown, bleak winter garden. A cold fog was beginning to settle over the city. The chill air matched Edmund's mood and he shivered. Henry bent to lay a fire in the small black marble fireplace. The warm glow brightened the room pleasantly.
Edmund remembered the glowing fire ring in his mother's cabin in the woods of Kentucky. He sighed and fingered the speckled rock in his pocket. Then he quickly walked downstairs and out the kitchen door to place the rock in the ruined flower bed. He would not take the chance that it would be discovered in his possession.
Christmas Day began with a heavy snowfall that delayed their arrival at the morning church services. The tardiness angered Lord Dunsmore so that he was more gruff and impatient that usual. Edmund entered the church behind his father and followed him up the aisle to their accustomed pew. There he endured the long service, making the necessary responses with his voice but not his mind or heart. The music he enjoyed, the beautiful majestic chords rising to the rafters of the vaulted edifice.
When the service finally ended and the membership dispersed they found the snow had not diminished but intensified. The journey home would be slow. Edmund and his father would be trapped inside the confines of the coach, possibly for an hour. The prospect was very unpleasant for them both. Edmund asked if he could just walk home and surprisingly his father agreed. In seconds the boy was out of the coach and onto the snowy sidewalk, breathing the cold air gratefully.
He took a tortuous route to his father's house. Along the way he made a wrong turn and passed through a part of the city that he had never seen before. It was only blocks from his house but the dilapidated buildings leaned dangerously. Children of all sizes huddled in doorways, some dressed in only shirts and trousers in the freezing weather. They were wet with the cold snow. Edmund walked slower as he looked at the unfortunate children. They stared back with eyes hollowed from hunger and disease. He began to bite his lip in distress.
He stopped completely before a ruined doorway where three small children huddled together. Their eyes, ringed with dark shadows, looked at him hopelessly. Impulsively he removed the warm wool coat from his own back and held it out to the smallest child, a little girl about four years old. She grabbed the garment, warm from his body, and snuggled down inside the silken lining. Her older sister burrowed inside also.
The boy, about seven, stood shivering beside his sisters. Edmund unwound his soft wool scarf from his neck, and leaning over, wound the warm length around the little boy's neck and shoulders, crossing it over his skinny chest. The boy smiled at him with a nearly toothless grin. A wave of guilt washed over the tall youth. His mind flashed back to the night four years ago when the policeman had taken him home to his father: " Got yourself a big house, a warm bed, plenty of food, servants to take care o' ye.... millions would give their eye teeth to have a tenth of what you have."
The injustice of the situation gnawed at his generous heart. He resolved to come back to this section of the city with every bit of clothing that he could spare. He would do it tonight after his father was asleep. The thought eased his guilty feelings and he began to run.
He reached home seconds before his father's coach turned down the street. Dashing upstairs, Edmund managed to close the door to his room before his father could see him coatless. Smiling to himself, he began to go through his closet and dresser drawers, adding to a growing pile of clothing heaped on the floor beside his bed.
After midnight Edmund soundlessly slipped through the front door and walked easily through the winter night. He wore his old coat that was too small, his wrists visible for several inches. In his arms he carried several shirts and trousers as well as several pairs of woolen and cotton stockings.
He silently laid garments in every doorway for an entire block, then ran home and slipped back inside the front door. Without a sound he climbed the sweeping staircase and eased quietly back into his room. He undressed, slipped his nightshirt on, and crawled into bed. He felt at peace and fell into a deep refreshing sleep.
He was awakened in the morning by a tumult in the street. Hurriedly dressing, he dashed downstairs and opened the door. A hundred yards away a carriage was stopped. Behind it, in the snowy street, was a bundle of rags. People stood all around it, gesturing and babbling. The coach's driver was talking to a policeman. Edmund felt drawn to the bundle. As he slowly approached he could see that it was a small child. Her head was strangely flattened and her eyes bulged sightlessly. There was blood pooling all around her head, matting in her chocolate brown hair.
He stood staring helplessly, unaware of the wailing woman who was rushing up behind him. He watched as she flung herself over the child's body, tearing at the snow and her own hair in frantic grief. She raised the child's body and Edmund gasped as he recognized his own coat given away only yesterday. It was the littlest girl that had stood in the doorway with her sister and brother. Edmund turned away and clung to the iron fence beside the street. His gorge rose and he vomited onto the snowy sidewalk. Yards away the coach door opened and a gentleman stepped out onto the snowy street.
"Officer, my driver could not avoid the child. She dashed out into the street in front of my horse. She was entirely at fault. Now, I am late to my appointment. Robert, let us be going." The gentleman climbed back into the coach and closed the door behind him. The grieving woman rose and clutched the coach's door.
"Who's goin' to bury my child? I haint got the means to do it. My man is dead. Who's goin' to bury my child?" Her voice broke with emotion. The gentleman gestured with his hand. Edmund heard his reply clearly and a chill ran through his tall young body.
"What do I care, madam? It is not my whelp. Put her in the pauper's graveyard with all the rest. Drive on, Robert!" The carriage lunged forward and the woman's hand was torn from the door. Edmund's eyes followed the coach as it turned the corner and disappeared. He felt a hand grasp his collar and pull.
"Get back into the house! There's another dead beggar in the street. What is that to you?" His father's hand continued to pull backwards and Edmund lost his footing. He slipped and grabbed onto the iron fence, then turned to look into his father's expressionless face. There was no trace of compassion or sympathy. Behind him he could still hear the mother wailing for her dead child. The disconnect between the reactions shook him to the bottom of his soul. He began to shiver.
"Where is your coat, Edmund? If you catch a chill I will punish you for your carelessness." The Earl walked the few steps back into his warm house. Behind him followed his son, his jaw clenched and his hands knotted into fists.
"Where is my coat indeed", thought the shivering boy. But the shiver was not caused by the cold air. It was caused by the coldness of his father and the class of men who called themselves gentlemen.
Edmund grieved for the little girl, spending long hours alone is his room reading and thinking. In the smothering stillness after midnight he wrote pages of poetry which he destroyed before Emma could find them. No one questioned his lethargy. Emma brought him fresh towels and fresh water, and continued to empty the slop jar and chamber pot. Henry continued to lay out his clothes every day, never commenting upon the diminished wardrobe.
He pondered the reality of servants who he knew were human but who behaved as though they were machines fixated on only one task, one purpose. What were their lives like inside their minds where he could not see? Did they ever wonder what he was thinking?
His father sat across from him at every meal and did not notice his lack of appetite. He felt invisible as a ghost in the big dark house. In the bleak lonely hours of the night he cried out to the Christian God, seeking an answer for the injustices of the world. He sought solace that did not come. He became even thinner and more lethargic. No one noticed his agony, and no one cared.
Finally the next semester began at Oxford and he was able to leave the echoes of his father's house. He looked forward anxiously to seeing Joey and Calvin and renewing their friendship. His studies would block the anguished memories from his mind as the long silent hours could not. Henry repeated his duties once again and left Edmund watching out the window for his friends' arrival.
Night fell and still they did not come. He was beginning to worry that they had left the college when there was a knock on his door. He flung it open with happy words of greeting on his lips. The expression on Calvin Cushing's face caused them to die before they were spoken.
"Kerr, Joey is dead."
He understood the words but they had no meaning. He stared at Calvin still standing in the hall, darkness all around him. The tall brown haired boy stepped into the room and closed the door. Edmund backed away from him until he felt the outside wall press into his shoulders. Calvin looked at him with blank eyes and explained.
"He and his brother were skating on the Thames near their home the day after Christmas. The ice broke and Joey fell through. The current was strong and it took him under the ice. His brother couldn't get to him in time. He drowned, Kerr. I was at the funeral. He's dead."
Into Edmund's mind came the image of Joey's laughing blonde face. The twinkling blue eyes now forever closed. The happy smile forever sobered. The brilliant mind forever lost. The warm loving heart forever stilled. He stood stiffly in the small lonely room and remembered the friendship. The cold crust of ice that had been reforming around his heart thickened. He tightened his lips and looked into Calvin's pale face.
"Come and room with me, Kerr. We can still be friends even without Joey." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "I'm lonely without him. Please come and stay with me."
Edmund nodded his head in agreement. He placed his warm hand on Calvin's cold shoulder. Together they walked out of the room and across the hall where Joey's bed remained empty and barren. Edmund helped Calvin undress and slip into his own bed. Then he lay down fully clothed upon Joey's unmade bed. In the deep darkness the tears slipped silently out of his eyes as he wept for all the losses in his life.