Two

With a tattered quilt over her shoulders like a shall, Shelagh sat in a rickety wooden chair with a piece of abandoned needlework in her lap. She had no desire to work on the project assigned to her and the only reason she left it in her lap was that it provided a small amount of extra warmth. The barn was particularly drafty that day—not that her captors cared much about that. She had been provided the barest minimum of comforts needed to stay alive and not an ounce more. She hadn't even had to suppose that for herself—she'd been outright told it. She would not be "coddled" as they had put it. Because, evidently, providing any source of heat was considered coddling. She supposed with that attitude she should feel lucky she as provided a lamp and not forced to live in a dark, windowless cell.

"Sister Mary?"

Shelagh looked towards the open stall door of the former animal barn to see one of her fellow captors, a girl about twenty who was too intimidated to tell anyone her real name. Shelagh could only call her by the name they were all forced to use. "Yes, Mary?"

"I have brought you something to drink. Mother Mary says you are still not allowed tea, so it is only warm water." The girl was apologetic as she stepped into the stall and handed over the cup and saucer.

Shelagh thanked her, grateful for anything even slightly warmer than the ambient temperature. The girl nodded politely before scurrying off.

As she sipped the warm water, Shelagh wondered what the two other girls were doing that afternoon. As she was still facing the punishment of trying to escape three nights earlier, she was not permitted out of her stall unless being directly supervised by their jailer, "Mother Mary." As such, she had only her needlepoint to work on and the space around her creaky, stiff cot to pace. She'd sewn a little just to stave off the boredom, prayed as well, but mostly she just sat in silence and thought about her current predicament.

A week earlier, she had been riding to her next appointment when a white van drove so close by her, it had startled her into losing her balance. She'd half fallen, half stumbled off her bike and her only injury had been a small scrape to the heel of her hand. She blamed herself initially since she had been daydreaming about meeting up with Dr. Turner in two days' time to have a conversation that she hoped would change her life. Maybe if she had been paying attention the van wouldn't have been able to offset her so easily. Though maybe, given what she'd learned over the days that followed, they were so determined they would have merely found another way. Whatever the case: that was how it had begun.

The couple she now knew as Mother Mary and Father Jacob exited the van and began crying out apologies. She'd brushed off their concern as she'd clambered off the ground and began to dust herself off. Only once she looked at them properly did she feel surprised, because the woman wore a black nun's veil and a long dark cloak. She began speaking urgently, saying that she was from the Mother House and that they needed her presence there that afternoon. She'd been confused, as she was supposed to take direction only from Sister Julienne, but Mary was insistent. She seemed in such a tizzy that Shelagh had agreed to go with them, but only if they took her to Nonnatus House first so that Sister Julienne could be informed. They had agreed, but the moment she climbed into the rear of their van she knew it had been a mistake.

The van had no rear seats, just a dirty blanket on the ground and, even more alarmingly, rolled up lengths of rope. Adrenaline coursed through her body, and she attempted to back out of the van, but Mary blocked her path. Before she could formulate another plan of escape or question what was going on, she felt a sharp pain on the back of her arm and her whole body coursed with agony. Her ears rung and her muscles seized such that she couldn't move them. She didn't think she fully lost consciousness, but she was too distressed to focus on her surroundings. She was vaguely aware of her hands being bound and lashed to the van's driver seat, but that was all she remembered until quite some time had passed.

The next thing Shelagh was conscious of was being unloaded from the van and being half-dragged, half-carried by Father Jacob past chickens and a few goats at what appeared to be some sort of farm. That was when she'd first been taken into the building that would become her prison: the converted barn. As her muscles felt incredibly weak, she could only stand by propping herself up against the wall. She asked dozens of questions about where she was and what was going on, but all Mother Mary would tell her was that she was in the place God wanted her to be. Mary then stripped her out of her clothes, hosed her off with ice cold water, and then gave her a thin white cotton dress with matching white veil to put on instead. She had then been dragged to the stall where she now sat and shivered until she final fell asleep.

The next morning, she had met her fellow captives: the twenty-year-old girl with an unknown name, and a nineteen-year-old one who asked to be called Sister Gertrude when Mother Mary wasn't around. Both were postulants, the elder from the Birmingham area and the younger from Cambridge.

Sister Gertrude had been there the longest—a week compared to the other girl's three days. They were able to tell her that they were in training to be wives and that their husbands would be chosen by God by way of Father Jacob. They cautioned her to obey Mother Mary as she was quick to punish—as Shelagh would soon find out for herself.

When her fellow captives had asked about her, she'd introduced herself as Sister Bernadette, but with all the time she'd had to reflect on the subject in the prior week, she had decided that moniker no longer fit. When she was able to escape, she intended to tell the doctor of her feelings the moment she saw him, and thus she had started to think of herself as Shelagh once more.

With her hot water finished, Shelagh begrudgingly got up from her warm seat, placed her needlepoint on the end of her bed, and stepped up to the edge of her stall so she could place the cup and saucer on the ground just outside. As she crouched down, her stomach reminded her of its emptiness with a loud gurgle and she placed her hands upon it, wincing. It had been quite some time since she'd felt this hungry, but as part of her punishment she was only allowed a slice of bread in the morning and nothing but water for the rest of the day. As she had been completely furious with the predicament, she hadn't minded at first, but now on the afternoon of the third day, she was beginning to feel quite miserable.

Back in her cell—er, stall—she sat back down on the chair and tugged the blanket around her shoulders in a huff. The worst part of her "punishment" was that it was of unknown duration, for when asked about it, Mary's only response was that God would tell her when Shelagh had returned once again to his good graces. While Shelagh was not one to question God's true intentions, she could not help but wonder if he was really the architect behind Mary's plans, or if she had other designs that she only claimed were religiously motivated.

Shelagh was left with her thoughts for the better part of the next hour until she heard the barn door clattering open and Mary's clomping footsteps approaching. She felt her gut tighten and could not help but wonder if the elder woman was brandishing her cattle prod, switch, or something even more unpleasant in nature.

As it turned out, the only thing Mother Mary carried in her hand was a small fistful of flowers. She hovered in the doorway to Shelagh's stall and smiled at her for the first time, which Shelagh actually found more alarming than her normal sneer. "I have such wonderful news for you, Sister Mary! God has sent you a husband!"

At the unexpected sentence, Shelagh could only respond with, "What?"

"God has spoken to Father Jacob and told him the name of the man who shall be your husband. Isn't that glorious?"

Shelagh immediately made the decision to play along with whatever was happening on the small chance it led for another opportunity for who to escape. "Who is this man that God is sending to me?"

"He is a doctor in a nearby village!"

Shelagh's heart skipped a beat and her voice cracked slightly as she echoed, "Doctor?" The word on her tongue spreading warmth through her chest. A doctor—possibly her doctor? She knew it was impossible as she could not imagine that he, nor anyone at Nonnatus House, would know where to find her, but still it was a glimmer of hope she hadn't had before.

"Yes, a doctor for animals!"

"Oh." Her hope dimmed, but perhaps she still had the chance to escape.

"Jacob says he is the perfect man for someone like you: a wild spirt that needs tamed into being a dutiful wife." Mother Mary's sneer returned as she spoke, and Shelagh instinctively shrank back in her chair.

She did find it amusing that this woman who had known her only a week had declared her to be such a wild soul. Never before in her life would that description had fit, but she had been quite obstinate since her arrival, which she felt was entirely justified since she was being held against her will. She had asked dozens of times in the first few days for Mary and Jacob to just let her go. She'd walk all the way back to Poplar if she had to—and she'd happily chalk the entire situation up to a misunderstanding. She just wanted to go home! At first, they had simply refused, then their refusals came along with punishments.

As the days wore on, and it became clear that the intent of her captors was preparing her for a religious union, her requests and turned to pleas—for how could they not? She had only a few days prior come to the decision she had been struggling with for months. She wanted to embrace it—she wanted to live it—but this cruel twist of fate had taken it away from her. Those pleas were met with more punishment, which led her to her escape plan, which had ended with such pain she wasn't sure she could try again, but she knew that she had to. The night she had been returned to her stall with a burned, blistered arm she lay awake reminding herself that the attempt had still been worth it. Perhaps, she considered, the fact that such a wild spirit had overtaken her was a further sign that the choice she had made was the correct one. She had waited nearly thirty years to find the man she was meant to love and now, in his reflection, she could finally be her true self.

"Now, before another word is said, we must get you ready," Mother Mary continued.

"Ready to…meet him?" Shelagh ventured.

"Ready to marry him."

She gasped. "Marry him!"

Mother Mary beamed a manic sort of smile. "Yes, today is your wedding day. Isn't that glorious?"

Shelagh's stomach flipped and she may have vomited if hadn't been so desperately empty. Though, her focus was no longer on hunger, but the fear coursing through her chest. "No, no it is not. I cannot marry someone I haven't met!"

"But you do not need to meet him, do you?"

"Yes, I do," she said insistently.

"Sister Mary, I know your faith in God is as strong as mine is. God does not make mistakes. God has chosen for you. You don't want to question God, do you?"

As her question sounded more like a threat, Shelagh took a moment to contemplate the best way to word her next protest, but before she could get it out, Mother Mary grabbed her left wrist with all her might. As it was the arm that had been punished and had not yet healed, Shelagh fell off her chair in agony. Mother Mary let out an upsetting chortle before grabbing her that time under the armpit and hauling her to her feet. "Come now, girl. We must get you ready for your wedding!"

She dragged Shelagh across the barn to the anteroom with an adjoining bath where she had received both of her ice-cold forced showers. She feared a third, but fortunately it was not on that day's menu. Instead, Mother Mary shoved her down in a chair, yanked the veil off her head, and began to roughly brush through her loose hanging hair. With several minutes work, she gathered it into a knot at the back of Shelagh's head, and then began to slip the flowers into her hair as a sort of flower halo. Shelagh said nothing during this time, she merely cradled her throbbing arm and thought through all the possible opportunities to escape that might soon be presented to her.

She considered perhaps that the veterinarian—her husband to be—might be sympathetic to her plight. If she could just explain to him that she had been taken against her will and only wished to return home, maybe he would let her go. Or, alternatively, she could try and escape again. Presumably his dwelling would not be as locked down or monitored at night and she could steal away. Granted, that ran the risk of him expecting marital duties from her, which was absolutely out of the question. Or, better yet, if the man had a veterinarian practice, it was likely he had a phone. She could call Nonnatus and maybe someone could come to fetch her. That would take time, of course. Possibly even time she didn't have before marital duties were expected or, she shuttered to think, forced upon her.

"Come, Mary; we cannot keep Father Jacob waiting."

Mother Mary hauled her up once more, the woman's nails digging sharply into the soft flesh beneath her upper arm, and led the way out of the barn. The second they were outside, Shelagh winced and shut her eyes from the intensity of the sunlight. She hadn't been outside with the sun in several days and with the barn having almost no windows, she had grown pitifully acclimated to existing in the dark. As such, her first few steps were more like stumbles, which had Mary gripping even tighter to her arm.

As her eyes began to adjust, Shelagh saw the chapel up ahead and her stomach twisted in her gut. She had been in it only once before—on Sunday for Jacob's bizarre sermon—and calling it a chapel really was an overly generous term. Shack with uncomfortable pew-like benches seemed more appropriate. Though the whole ordeal had seemed quite unbelievable at first, the closer they marched to the chapel she came to realize that she might actually be forced to marry that afternoon, and her chest began to heave with panic.

She had yet to discern whether "Father Jacob" was a real member of the clergy or if he likened himself to one. If he was an anointed member of the clergy, then any marriage he performed would be a real one in the eyes of God, but she had absolutely no intent to remain married to the village veterinarian. She had only considered marrying one man; anyone else was out of the question. Would it be sinful for her to go through with the wedding knowing she would not be committing to the relationship? Would God understand that she did not intend it as a purposeful falsehood, but merely a situation she was trapped in under threat of violence? She had no other choice! She had tried many times to be reasonable, but had been tricked, manipulated, or assaulted at every turn. She just wanted to go home and get back to the life she felt he had guided her towards. Surely, God could not be angry at her for that.

As her feet slipped on the muddy earth and Mother Mary hauled her onwards, Shelagh wondered not for the first time if this scenario might actually be what God intended for her. She had spent so many hours alone; many different possibilities had floated through her mind. Was this perhaps punishment for wrongly interpreting His will? Did he not wish her to be with Dr. Turner? She had felt so sure—so absolutely certain. After requesting a private meeting with the doctor, she had felt so content and at peace with her decision, but now, just feet away from the chapel and her uncertain future, fear coursed through her veins.

What if she couldn't get away? What if this was to be her life? To be the wife of a veterinarian and bear his children whether she wanted to or not? A life around animals didn't scare her but being wed to a husband expecting to "tame" her as Mother Mary said certainly did.

For many years she had felt only comfort walking through the doors of a chapel, but now dread filled her. The chapel had but one small window behind the pulpit making it equally as dark as the barn, meaning her eyes once again needed to adjust. She blinked rapidly, trying to get her bearings for she feared being blind around people she did not trust. After twenty seconds, her vision began to clear, and she could see the silhouette of a man standing in front of a much taller figure, which she assumed to be Father Jacob. The unknown man's back was to her, so she could not see his face, but as her brain interpreted the image before her she felt a sense of calm wash over her body. The outline of this man's head and shoulders seemed familiar—so familiar that she simply could not believe it. Surely her mind was showing her a hallucination of what she longed for—her heart's greatest desire. He couldn't actually be there; it was impossible.

Mary gave her a shove in the middle of her back and Shelagh stumbled forward, her feet slapping against the planks on the floor as she righted herself. At the noise, the groom jerked his head around and, when her eyes fell upon his face, a flood of emotions rushed through her: Relief. Joy. Confusion. They spilled out in a mixture of a gasp and a sob that propelled her up the short aisle.

Within five steps, she was at his side. He had turned his body to face hers and all she could do was stare—gawk at him, really—waiting for the hallucination to end and reveal the face of the mysterious veterinarian, but it never did. Whether that part of Mary's tale was a purposeful deception or simply a misunderstanding, Shelagh didn't care, because standing before her was everything she ever wanted.

"Hello Shelagh," he said in his warm, comforting tone as his eyes twinkled with a light she had never seen in them before—a light that seemed only to shine for her. Emotion overtaking her, her legs began to wobble, and she feared she might not be able to remain upright on her own. She pitched herself forward, her arms flying up around his neck, and clung to him as though he was the lift raft pulling her to shore.

As his arms circled her back, she heard whisper into her ear, "It's all right. I promise. I promise."

For the first time in a week, his words made her believe that was true, and a great heaving sob escaped her chest. He held her a bit tighter, and her face pressed against his neck. Realizing they had never before been that close, she took in a long, slow breath, taking in the scent of him and realizing it was just like finding home.

"Jacob!" Mother Mary's harsh voice startled Shelagh such that she jumped and pulled her arms away from Patrick's neck. His hands remained on her waist as Mary stomped forward and demanded, "What is this? What is happening?"

"Didn't I tell you? They're childhood friends," Jacob said ethereally.

Shelagh's brow wrinkled at this most nonsensical statement, and she gazed at Patrick, who winked his left eye at her. Her eyes widened as she could only assume from the move that he was responsible for the misinformation, but that succeeded only in confusing her further.

Clearing his throat, Patrick took a half-step away from her, but kept one arm around her back. Turning to Jacob, he asked, "Shall we begin the ceremony now?"

"Yes…I suppose. All of our guests have arrived."

At Mary's comment, Shelagh looked behind her and saw that the other two captives were huddled together on a pew to her left. She hadn't even seen them! But she supposed it made sense that the entirety of their bizarre community was to witness the marriage.

Stepping back up to the pulpit, Father Jacob towered over them as he opened his Bible and began to speak. "We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman together in the eyes of God…"

Shelagh turned back towards Patrick and grasped both of his hands with hers, finding herself utterly overwhelmed by the moment. In the span if five minutes she'd gone from utterly terrorized to happy beyond measure. And now she stood in a place she never thought she would be: as a bride. She was getting married. To Patrick. Which, while entirely thrilling, seemed completely surreal! How could they be getting married? He'd never even officially asked her! Her family didn't know what was happening. Did his? What about everyone at Nonnatus House?

"…on these days, I am reminded so much of scripture…"

Shelagh forced her gaze away from her husband to be and turned towards Father Patrick as he recited a Bible verse she had never heard before. It struck her as odd and, the more she listened to the words, strangely incorrect. At first, she thought he might have been inadvertently combining two versed together but then his speech began to sound more like he was flipping to random pages in the dictionary and reciting what he saw: each individual word made sense, but together they did not make a logical sentence let alone a coherent message. Utterly confused, she turned back to Patrick, but he appeared too besotted to be paying close attention to the man guiding their ceremony.

After what she decided must certainly be one of the more bizarre wedding ceremonies ever to take place, Father Jacob announced them to be wed, though he did not invite them to kiss. On that point, Shelagh was not disappointed. She did not want to share her first kiss with Patrick in a room where it would be witnessed by her former captors and their remaining hostages.

At the close of the ceremony, the clergyman instead directed them towards a table behind the pulpit where a book lay waiting. Shelagh recognized it immediately as an official registrar and, more surprisingly, took note of the Church of England's official seal. To that point, she had not been certain Jacob was a true clergyman, but he had to have been with the official registrar (assuming he hadn't stolen it, which given his deception to date was a valid thing to wonder about).

"Now, if you will both sign here," Jacob instructed as he opened the book. To Shelagh he added, "Remember to sign your new name."

Patrick stepped up first and, when he was done, held the pen out to her. She stared at it with shock, her brain still processing the fact that signing an official registrar for the Church of England after an anointed clergyman performed the ceremony resulted in a legal marriage. She had no issue with being legally married to him, but it seemed her brain was struggling to recover after multiple rounds of shocking discoveries that afternoon.

"Shelagh?"

"Sorry." She hastily took the pen and stepped up to the book only to find her hand was shaking so badly that she could hardly hold the writing implement. She leaned over and held the book flat with her left hand while pressing harder than she needed to in order to steady the pen. As such, her attempt to sign the unfamiliar last name Turner was decidedly shaky, though legible.

"Oh, what a wonderful day it is to finally welcome a couple into our community where we will love and worship God," Mother Mary began, before launching into a brief speech that seemed equally as strange as the ceremony performed by her companion. Bizarre as it was, Shelagh didn't worry, because Patrick's arm was around her back the entire time and she knew with him at her side the crazed couple could never hurt her again.

"Well, ah, thank you both very much," Patrick jumped in at the first opportunity. "You have been most kind, but I'm afraid my bride and I must be off."

The confidence with which he spoke indicated that Patrick knew something that she did not, which was probably true given his presence there that afternoon. She simply added that query to the mental list of questions she was building for when they had finally escaped, but they could all wait until they were far, far away from this farm filled with nightmares.

Mary's expression faltered. "What is he talking about Jacob?"

"Oh, well, his elderly mother desperately wants to meet his bride."

"Yes," Patrick continued with a tragic sigh. "She has been so ill that I'm afraid she does not have much time left. This will bring her so much joy."

Without waiting for any response, Patrick guided Shelagh towards the rear of the church. It was all Shelagh could do not to burst out into a run, but he kept their pace steady—yet determined.

Mary scurried after them, insisting, "They're supposed to stay here and live with us!"

"They will," Jacob insisted, though his tone lacked conviction.

Patrick pressed on, bursting through the church doors, and looking up at the sky. "Would you look at that? Getting so dark already. We really must be off, but we'll be in touch soon!"

Now hurriedly walking, he guided Shelagh towards the nearest break in the fencing—a gate that was mercifully unlocked.

As Mary shrieked, "Jacob! Stop them!" Patrick said into her ear, "Run! Run now!" and they sprinted off towards the rose-colored light of the setting sun.


A/N: a disclaimer - I am from the US not the UK. I googled how to be legally married in the UK and I think I understood it right, but I apologize if its wrong. also, of course, what i googled is for current day not the 1950s