Felicity: An American Girl ROMANCE, Pt3, Ch 16: How Do You Mend A Broken Heart?
She shook and she shivered and she saw things that were really not there. Hallucinations, of course. But at the time, they were real to Felicity Merriman, who begged and pleaded for at least some of the powders she had come to rely on. She screamed and wailed, and appealed to a kindly-faced brown-haired woman to let her just have a little, that's all she needed to feel better, but the woman just smiled in her understanding, motherly way, shushed her soothingly, and made her drink soup. For some reason Felicity wasn't able to comprehend in her condition, it hurt like bloody blazes to move her hands at the wrists. Her nightmares were so bad that her shrieking was more than the daughters could endure at night, so they slept on blankets in the little cozy parlor.
Lord Covington, second Duke of Belhastings, came to see her everyday. For five days. At first she could not answer questions with coherent words. She pointed and shrieked at things only she could see, or cried wretchedly over someone named Ben who apparently abandoned her in her hour of need. But eventually, over the period of five days, Felicity began to calm down. The shaking began to subside, the nightmares not so soul-shattering, her appetite slowly returning. The duke smiled and tried to converse with her, but she still seemed too mentally unstable to string a sentence together that made sense.
One particular day of her delirium, the duke attempted to ask her for her name, but she continued to stare at the ceiling rafters over his head of dark hair with wide eyes. She sat upright against the pillows she had been reclining against, and pointed at arm's length with a trembling finger.
"What is it, young lady?" the duke inquired of her with a gentle smile. "Is my hair amiss?"
"Sheep!" cried Felicity in alarm. She grabbed the duke by the ruffle of his ascot and pulled his face close. "There are sheep on the ceiling, man!"
So he humored her. "My dear lady, that is unlikely, for I do not permit my livestock to wander any further than the parlor."
But she merely groaned and flopped back against the pillows, having so quickly lapsed back into sleep.
"Hmph!" said the duke, pretending to be offended.
"Forgive the poor lil' thing, m'lord," gushed Mrs. Babcock. "She has no idea where she is, or whom is addressing her."
"That is perfectly fine, Madame," replied the duke with a grin. "Sometimes I forget who I am!"
Ultimately, though, Felicity was emerging from her powder-deprived illness with a greater understanding that she was not in any danger at the moment. There was the beginnings of a sense of calm about her, something she hadn't experienced in what felt like forever. A kind, plump woman came and went from her, chatting cheerfully about children whose names were Rex, Pudding, Poppy and Marvel-Anne. If she was not speaking of them, she was speaking of her husband, who like to eat a lot and whack moles on their heads. The husband was very good friends with a duke who lived nearby.
Mentally overwhelmed by all of this information, Felicity fell back into a snoring sleep, thinking she had just imagined it all.
One evening, Lord Covington came to the Babcock cottage after his dinner to see about the nysterious girl's progress, and saw that the Squire was not his usual plucky, gabbing self. On the whole, he seemed nervous and tense as he lit up his evening pipe. The children had been told to bring in the family's three cows, and Mrs. babcock seemed to be just as edgy as her husband. Having known these people a good long while, the duke knew that somethng was out of place as soon as he was given admittance to the parlor.
"Something is on your mind, my friend," Lord Covington began as he sat down in in a high wing-backed arm chair exactly like the squire's across from him at the lit fireplace. Mrs. Babcock sat on the end of a two-seater sofa nearest to her husband with her basket of knitting. The couple exchanged an uneasy look.
"Has our guest revealed her identity?" He looked from Mr. to Mrs., puzzled. "I noticed that the shrieking has stopped."
"Ye-yes, so it has," Mrs. Babcock began absently, fidgeting more than she was knitting. "But, ye see, m'lord..."
The squire took his pipe from his mouth and leaned forward towards the duke, who immediately moved likewise, for it was obvious there was something of grave imporatnce about to be said. "There's talkin' goin' on in the village," said Mr. Babcock lowly, as if he did not trust the privacy of his own house.
"Talk? Whatever about?" The duke's grin was brilliant. "Is the clothing business finally going out of fashion?" The Covington family business was the manufacturing of clothing ready-made and bolted, also for shipping and trade. They specialized in woollen products for the most. Sometimes business was good, sometimes not. But Lord Covington, in his quiet-humored way, used to joke that as long as the human race required clothing then he would never be out of business.
But Squire Babcock did not smile. He shifted closer to the edge of his seat and said, "Well, m'lord, we're thinkin' this...'news' concerns our young miss in there..."
Immediately the duke sobered. "What is it, Babcock, what have you heard?"
"A fellow came into the pub today, talkin' about a big fire that destroyed the barn on the Forsythe estate in Newick. 'E says the wife of Lord Forsythe is missin' and there's a reward to be offered for 'er return." He gulped nervously. "She is supposed to have green eyes, red hair, and would most likely be ill."
The duke frowned. He sat back, rubbed his chin and looked contemplative. Mr. and Mrs. Babcock waited tensely for some kind of reaction from him, a word or something, anything, but all they got in response after a moment was a grunt. He continued staring at the fire, thinking. They did not know that in his mind, he was trying to ask Evangeline for help.
At length, he sighed. "The physical description fits her most definately. I suppose, then, we can safely assume that she is this...'missing' Lady Forsythe. Interesting. I did not know that young Lord Forsythe had finally married." Then he went quiet again, still looking preoccupied with thought.
"My lord," whispered Mrs. Babcock curiously, "what would you have us do?"
"Do?" He looked at her as if he was surprised she had to ask. "Why, nothing, of course!"
They blinked at him, startled.
"Look, my friends, the girl is, or was, quite ill. We knew that even before this 'news' arrived. We cannot just very well turn her back over to whomever. I told you, when I found her on my property she was in a terrible state of fear and despair. Desperate enough to be willing to take her own life in order to prevent going back to wherever or whomever she came from. If she did indeed come from the Forsythe estate, then this fire you speak of obviously has something to do with her dire situation."
"That is good reasonin', sar," Mr. Babcock nodded agreeingly, but hen he would have agreed with anything the duke had said. One did not argue with a man of his station, even if he was friendly with the lower classes!
"Oh, Good Land, Babcock," the duke sighed, "think about it: Do you merely turn your back on a soul that is suffering, or do you do as the Lord finds pleasing in His sight and help the poor thing? I was a dinner guest at the Forsythe estate once, just before Lord Alastair Forsythe passed away from whatever condition it was. From my personal experience there, I likened it to a dull and gloomy crypt! I have not had the opportunity to meet his only son, but I have heard that he is a strange young fellow. So it does not actually surprise me that our ill lass in there has no desire to return to that place."
"Truly!" exclaimed Mrs. Babcock, who found the living habits of the ranked and wealthy rather fascinating."I hear the young lord is losing 'is shipping business!"
At this, the duke made a snorting sound. "Shipping business, indeed! He and his father ran a slaving business, my dear Madame."
"Oh how abominable!"
The duke's gaze went back to the squire. "And what manner of man was this that is spreading this news that you heard today?"
The squire took a pull on his pipe before replying, "A big burly chap. Looked like 'e was dressed for hunting. I believe 'e said his name was 'Gooch.' "
Lord Covington went thoughtful again. "The Forsythes are strange people, Mr. Babcock. I do not trust them. Let us wait for our guest to be in her right mind, and then we shall hear her story. Say nothing to no one, Babcock. Do not speak of the girl to anyone for now. She is under my protection until further notice."
"Yes, m'lord," said the squire meekly. Though he had known the duke and his beloved deceased wife for years and the friendship between them was easy, Mr. Babcock was very aware that Lord Covington was still a peer of the realm, and could invoke his rank and it's authority if he deemed it necessary. Oh nay, he would never betray the duke's trust. "The lass is safe with us."
"Good. I knew you would not disappoint me. Or the memory of my Evangeline. I believe she would approve."
The squire smiled, his nervousness having eased quite a bit. Practically everyone who was acquainted with the duke and knew his late wife was aware of the generousity and sweetness of Lady Covington. Aye, she would have taken all of the troubled girl's problems and made them her own. There would never be another angel such as Lady Evangeline for as long as the sun continued to rise.
But would the late Lady Covington approve if her husband took more than a humanitarian interest in the mysterious girl being hidden in the squire's cottage?
Ultimately, Felicity woke one morning with her head less achy and her body not shaking for once. She felt as if she'd been sleeping for a year. Lord, she was hungry! She began to sit up groggily, squinting at the bright morning sunlight slanting in through a window that had ruffly white linen curtains were pulled all the way back on either side. She crinkled her nose. Bits and pieces of what she knew about her surroundings were coming back to her gradually. She was in a squire's cottage. A squire's wife had been tending to her. There had been brown-eyed children with curious round faces staring at her now and then. One of the children had asked if she was a secret princess. She was safe.
And there had been some kind of talk about her being rescued by a duke, of all things. That had to be a dream!
"Ah, awake are we?" The squire's wife was coming into the room, wiping her floured hands on her apron. Her smile was wide and motherly. " 'Tis about time, too! I got meself three daughters wantin' to know if'n you're a princess or not, and one son 'oo wants to know just for the sake of it!"
Felicity swallowed, finding her mouth dry."No ma'am, I am no princess," she croaked, also finding her voice to sound just awful, like she'd had a fierce cold. Instictively, a hand went to the base of her throat to rub, but the simple gesture made her wrist burn and ache deeply, resulting in a slight gasp.
"Careful, there, Miss," advised Mrs. Babcock, sitting down on the bed to face her. "Ye've got yeself a right nasty wound, there, and on the other one." She watched Felicity look at the insides of both of her wrists in shock, finding them wound up in bandages, inspecting them as if this was drastic news she couldn't believe. Mrs. Babcock did indeed take instant pity on her. "Now don' ye worry none, you'll heal in no time! Just be slow and careful."
Felicity looked at her with troubled, dull green eyes. "What happened to me?"
"Ye don' know?" Clearly, this startled Mrs. Babcock, who had a hand go up to her heart. "Well what do ye remember?"
Felicity's gaze fell to the bedsheets as she tried to think. She was groggy and tired, which didn't help the thought process very much. She closed her eyes and saw flashing images of fire, followed by the sensation of running. Grey mist. A man coming at her on a horse.
Sheep.
Then her eyes snapped open. Wide. "I was running...I fell over a sheep! A man was coming after me!"
"Well that would have been the duke!" Mrs. Babcock informed her pleasantly with a proud smile. " 'E was out making rounds on 'is property, and 'e found you all delirious and ill- and 'e says ye cut yeself to keep from bein' captured. But the duke is a kind man. Among the best of men, 'e is. 'E brought ye here to us for lookin' after and safe keepin,' and we're not about to disappoint 'im!"
"S-So that part is true," Felicity stammered awkwardly. "A real duke. N-No one was trying to catch me and take me back to..."
"The Forsythe place?" Mrs. Babcock chuckled softly while Felicity gaped in a near-panic. "Now just ye calm yeself! Aint no one going to find ye here. You're under the protection of the Duke of Belhastings, Miss. 'E will be quite happy to hear you're awake and talkin' sense. Speakin' of talkin', you're definitely not from 'round 'ere! Whereabouts do ye hail from?"
"The American colonies, ma'am. Virginia, to be exact." Her horrible croaking voice had a tremor in it, most likely because she was still nervous at finding out these people knew that she had come from the Forsythe estate. "I was brought here against my will."
Mrs. Babcock gasped softly. "Oh you poor thing! Did that strange Lord Forsythe do it?"
"Yes, ma'am," Felicity croaked warily. Any other time she would have been frantic to tell someone her situation and beg for help, but in this mind-numbing, soul-draining condition she was in, just the thought of getting all riled up was terribly exhausting. And she hadn 't made up her mind to trust anyone yet, duke or no duke. She simply had to be careful. The way she was feeling at this moment, she actually didn't give a damn what happened next.
Mrs. Babcock patted her leg reassuringly. 'Don' ye worry, dear. The duke will be glad to help ye any way 'e can."
Felicity smiled thinly. She wasn't about to put a great amount of faith into something that sounded too good to be true. Unless she witnessed something with her own eyes, she wasn't about to believe it. Funny, she mused warily, I never used to be this way. I used to have faith in people, I used to believe what was good would always prevail. Now look at me. Is there nothing I am not bitter about?
Mrs Babcock rose and regarded Felicity with a curious look. "What's it like there, in the colonies?"
She swallowed forcefully, not really feeling up to talking about her home so very far away, or the loved ones she felt she'd been separated from for years. "Well, the summers are very hot. People pretty much go about as they please. Women there do not have any more rights than a cow...: Her cheeks turned pink seeing that the older woman was staring at her almost worriedly. " 'Tis nice." She didn't know quite what to say anymore, about anything.
"I will fetch you some breakfast now, how about that?" The motherly smile was back. "The children are gathering eggs and doin' their chores, so you might just get to eat in peace. One of 'em will fetch the duke, for 'e's anxious to meet ye."
How lovely. "Thank you ma'am," was all she croaked.
"D'ye feel like gettin' up and movin' about?"
Felicity wasn't too sure about that. Actually what she wanted to do was fall back into a long, dreamless sleep and not have to be faced with meeting a duke, which she was still not entirely sure about, or any other burdens of the waking world. Especially her waking world. "I'm not sure. I can try..."
" 'Ere now, let me help." Mrs. Babcock helped her turn down the covers and turn her legs to the edge of the bed. Felicity frowned. For the first time she noticed that she was wearing a clean white shift with long sleeves. When had that happened? She held to the kindly woman as her feet touched the woollen rug beside the bed. There was probably a whole lot she didn't know about while she slept. Like Lettie's fate.
She wavered a bit when she rose, blinking uncertainly at her surroundings. There was a wash basin on a stand near a simple vanity that had an ordinary-looking mirror and upon it was a set of ordinary brushes, a dainty box for storing ribbons in, and another wooden box with a carved name on its lid: Marvel-Anne. At these little-girlish things, Felicity couldn't help but smile. So maybe she hadn't completely turned to stone yet after all.
"Slowly now," advised Mrs. Babcock, watching the girl begin to take steps toward the vanity as she held securely to her. "Ye want to get washed up? That must be a sign o' progress, for no one feels like cleanin' up when they feel the worst! D'ye need assistance, dear?"
"No thank you, ma'am," Felicity croaked with a slight smile. What she actually wanted was to get a look in that vanity mirror to see if she still looked like herself, because she certainly did not feel like herself. "I think I'll manage all right now. Thank you."
"You're welcome, dear. If you need help with anything, I'll be in the kitchen makin' you breakfast. Don' worry nothin' about formality. Just yell. That's what me husband and the children do when we aint got company." She sighed, but giggled. "Were so used to ye bein' 'ere now, ye might as well be family! Got a name, do ye?"
"Felicity. Felicity Merriman." She tried her best to fully smile back at the woman, but couldn't even tell if she accomplished it or not.
"Oh, that's lovely. I'll return to ye shortly, Miss Felicity!" Mrs. Babcock scurried out, closing the door some of the way, to give Felicity some privacy.
She heard the laughter of the children as they went about their chores outside on this crisp morning. Having been a child once herself, she recalled how her own energy created by running around kept her warm on winter mornings like these. Lord, things were so much simpler back then! Felicity inhaled and stepped in front of the vanity mirror.
Good God.
At first she didn't even recognize herself. White as a sheet, her eyes dull and shadowed with purple, her face thinner than she had last seen. In fact, she was thinner all over. From lack of eating, no doubt. But that was only so she wouldn't be consuming so much of those vile powders. She looked like she had indeed been violently ill. She raised her hands to touch her face, but then became distracted by the white wrappings around each wrist. Oh, her wrists were incredibly sore! She felt like the pain went all the way through the bone. And she herself had done this? She couldn't even remember doing it! Her stricken green eyes rose to meet those of the ghostly-looking girl in the looking-glass. The only familiar thing about her, to herself, was her hair. It was a tangled, matted mess, but she considered that to be nothing compared to how wretched she looked in the face.
And this so-called 'duke' was anxious to meet her, eh? Well she would have as many questions for him as he would for her. But she wasn't about to trust anyone, aristocrat or not. As soon as she could think clearly, had recovered enough to fend for herself, she was getting out of here, somehow, someway. She would find a way home one way or the other.
From inside the cozy little bedchamber, she heard a sharp raping on the door of the cottage and stiffened instictively. Perhaps it was this duke Mrs. Babcock kept gushing about. If so, Felicity resolved not to go out of her way to be formal with him. She trusted no one. For all she knew, this 'duke' was merely another man wanting to run her life somehow. She'd had much too much of that.
As she reached for a drying towel beside the wash basin to dry her pale face with, she heard Mrs. Babcock open the door to greet whoever it was, and the words she heard in reply to the kindly woman were, " 'Scuse me, ma'am, is yer husband about?" and she froze from mussy head to tense toe.
It was Ezekiel Gooch.
Couldn't sleep so I went out walking
Thinking about you and hearing us talking
And all the things I should have said
Echo now, inside my head
I feel something falling from the sky
I'm so sad I made the angels cry
Tears from the moon
Fall down like rain
I reach for you, I reach in vain
Tears from the moon
Lyrics from the aptly named 'Tears From The Moon" by Conjure One
Ben Davidson had not only never been to sea before, but he had never been at sea during a raging thunderstorm before, either. In his tiny cabin alone, as the ship tossed and pitched, he merely sat on the edge of his skinny cot and gripped it with both hands staring blankly at the floor planks while overhead the crew was all on deck, yelling and running. Apparently lightning had struck the main mast and now there was a fire to put out. All that rain and crashing waves, and the men were haning trouble putting out a fire.
But Ben didn't care whether it was put out or not. If this ship could not get him to Felicity, then he would rather go down. At present, all he could think about was 'Did Felicity go through anything like this?' 'Did her ship go down, even?' 'How bad scared was she?' There was screaming from one of the cabins a few partitions down from his, where Elizabeth and Arthur were staying. As high-pitched as the screaming was everytime the thunder rattled the air, Ben highly doubted it was Elizabeth that was doing it.
Three weeks at sea and poor Arthur still hadn't recovered from motion-sickness.
Ben Davidson had given no thought to his own well-being at sea. He didn't have the time or the mind to. His only thoughts, his dreams, his worries, were focused on only Felicity. What she was having to endure. What her nightmarish voyage with that damned Forsythe had been like.
If she was even still alive or not.
She had to still be alive. If she wasn't then his heart would have ceased as well. Blank-faced and miserable, he had already determined that he would endure anything just to get to her. Anything. His great fear was that she was having to endure far worse than he was, therefore anything he had to go through was no less than he deserved. Please, Lord, allow me to live at least until I can bring her home! Then I will accept my punishment however You see fit!
Please just let me find her!
It all came so easy, all the loving you gave me
The feelings we shared, and I still can remember
How your touch was so tender, it told me you cared
We had a once in a lifetime
But I just couldn't see, until it was gone
A second once-in-a-lifetime, may be too much to ask
But I swear from now on
If ever you're in my arms again, this time I'll love you much better
If ever you're in my arms again, this time I'll hold you forever,
This time will never end.
Now I'm seeing clearly, How I still need you near me
I still love you so
There's something between us that won't ever leave us,
There's no letting go.
We had a once-in-a-lifetime, but I just didn't know it
Til my life fell apart
A second once-in-a-lifetime isn't too much to ask
Cause I swear from the heart
If ever you're in my arms again, This time I'll love you much better
If ever you're in my arms again, This time will never end
The best of romances deserve second chances
I'll get to somehow, 'cause I promise now
If ever you're in my arms again, This time, I'll love you much better
If ever you're in my arms again, This time I'll hold you forever
This time will never end
-Lyrics from one of the most classic love songs 'If Ever You're In My Arms Again' by Peabo Bryson