Page 54 of The Lovers
“Don’t I? Oh, they might be sexually liberated and free to speak their minds, but they still have to compete in the world of men in most areas, and they have to be twice as clever to achieve half as much because they are held back by misogyny and fear.”
Gabe remained silent as he sipped his drink, considering what his mother had just said. She had a way of putting things in perspective and helped him see the situation from a completely different angle. Perhaps she was right, and he’d been impatient and overly aggressive. He thought that he was swooping in to save the day, when, in fact, he was making Quinn feel cornered and unsure of his motives. He needed to give her the time and space she needed to think and come to terms with Luke’s betrayal. A slow smile spread across Gabe’s face as he regarded his mother across the room.
“Thanks, Mum. I love you.”
“And I love you,” she replied, ruffling his hair as she rose to retire. “And do you know what does wonders for unrequited love?” she asked, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“No, but I can’t wait to find out.”
“Hard work. The gutters need cleaning, the leaves on the lawn need to be raked, several lightbulbs need changing, and there’s a drip in the master bath. And Buster could use a visit to the vet. He’s been poorly lately, but your father keeps putting a trip to the doctor off. Afraid of losing his longtime pal,” his mother added sadly. Buster had been with the family for the past fifteen years, son of the previous Buster who’d been Gabe’s pup when he was a boy. At fifteen, there wasn’t much a vet could do for him, but if the animal was in pain, perhaps he could offer some relief or a humane end.
Gabe got to his feet and saluted his mother. “Yes, ma’am. All will be done, and by teatime, no less. Make a list, Mum. I will fix it, change it, screw it in, rake it, and make it whole again.”
“That’s what I like to hear. At least you are not a procrastinator like your father. Now, go to bed and dream pleasantdreams,” his mother said as she reached up to kiss him good night. “I’ll see to the fire.”
Gabe trudged up the creaking steps, a silly grin on his face. It’d been the right decision to come home. His mother hadn’t told him anything he didn’t already know, but somehow, he felt remarkably better, and helping his aging parents around the house was something he looked forward to doing. It would help to assuage some of his guilt for not visiting them more often. Perhaps he could convince his father to take a ride to a nearby kennel and choose a new puppy. It would ease Buster’s passing for his dad and give Gabe a chance to give his father an early Christmas present.
THIRTY-SEVEN
JUNE 1665
London, England
Elise cried bitterly as Janet’s body was carried from the house wrapped in a linen shroud. Two grooms had donned leather gloves and tied kerchiefs over their noses and mouths, fearful of contracting the disease from coming into contact with the corpse. Janet had died peacefully, just slipping away in her sleep after days of fevered lucidity in which she kept crying out for her mother and begging God to help her. Lucy didn’t appear to be infected but had to be kept in isolation for a period of forty days. And now they had no choice but to alert the authorities. A red cross would be painted on the door and an armed guard would be stationed outside to keep nobles and servants alike from leaving the premises.
Elise curled into a ball and rested her forehead against her knees. The position wasn’t comfortable, and she was acutely aware of her small belly. The babe inside had begun moving during the past week. The movements were strange, almost like a fish on a hook thrashing in panic. They startled Elise and then stopped just when she got accustomed to them and longed to feel more. Elise put her hand on her belly, willing the child to move, but all was still. It’s as if her baby felt her despair and tried to keep as still as possible to protect itself.
A knock sounded on her bedroom door, and Elise roused herself and wiped angrily at her eyes. The servants needed her to be strong, not come apart like a child. “Come,” she called out.
Peg came into the room timidly. She was in her early twenties, with abundant fair hair and huge blue eyes that missed little. She was ethereally beautiful, but Elise suspected that she wasn’t quite as innocent as she appeared. Peg was aware of her beauty and used it to her advantage, not that Elise could blame her. She’d learned a thing or two over the past few months, and perhaps being possessed of a little cunning wasn’t such a bad thing for a woman.
“What is it, Peg?” Elise asked warily.
Peg lowered her eyes as she spoke, her voice reedy and frightened.
“I can’t hear you,” Elise said irritably.
“It’s Judd, me lady. He’s taken ill. The other grooms have taken him up to the loft above the stables.”
“Oh, dear God,” Elise whispered. “Not another one.”
“I’m ’fraid so.”
“Is it the plague?” Elise asked, already knowing the answer. What were the chances of a man simply getting ill when the Black Death was raging all about them?
“Aye, me lady.”
Elise nodded. “Thank you for telling me. Make sure he has food and drink and that someone keeps an eye on him should he need anything.”
“Aye, ma’am.” Peg turned to leave, but not before Elise saw the terror in her eyes. “Are they coming to shut us in, me lady?”
“I’m afraid so, Peg.” A desperate sob tore from Peg’s chest as she fled the room, leaving Elise shaking with fear. She began to pace the room, taking deep breaths in an effort to calm down. She had just about mastered herself, when there was a loud banging onthe front door, the thudding reverberating through the house. Had they come so quickly? Janet had died only that morning.
Elise took a shuddering breath and headed downstairs. She was the mistress of the house and needed to take responsibility for the people who relied on her. Peg was already at the door, her face contorted with fear as she pulled it open, half expecting to see soldiers. A man stood on the threshold. His hat was pulled down low and the bottom part of his face was covered with a kerchief. He looked dusty and travel-stained, and his leather-clad hand seemed to hover near the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t there to shut them in, but perhaps he was bent on thievery.
“What do you want here, sir?” Elise spoke loudly. “There’s plague in this house, so if you value your life, you’d better be on your way.”
The man pulled off the kerchief impatiently, revealing himself to be James. “Aye, I know there’s plague. Get your things together. We are leaving. Hurry, we don’t have much time. They’ll be here within the hour, and then it will be too late.”
