Roanoke (The Keepers of the Ring) (35 page)

“
Forget it,” he said, pulling her toward the gate of the palisade and away from curious eyes. “I’ve been thinking, and I’ve made our plans. Ye will marry the old man, Audrey, and then we’ll be together always.”

“
Marry him? Have ye lost your mind?”

“
No, lass,” he said, slipping an arm about her slender waist. He drew her closer as they walked, and she liked the masculine smell about him. “Just think of this—we’ll be livin’ in the same house. He’s an old man, and bound to meet his maker in a few months, just wait and see. And if, perchance, we can hasten him on to heaven—”

Audrey stopped in her tracks, truly horrified.
“William,” she gasped, searching his face. “Are ye saying we should
kill
him?”

“
No, my love,” he said, his smile broad and reassuring. “We won’t lift a finger to harm him, I promise. But we won’t do anything to keep him around longer than his due time, neither.”

“
I don’t know,” Audrey answered, her flesh crawling with the idea of loving one man while sleeping with another. She shivered, and William tightened his arm around her.

“
Do y’love me?”

“
I suppose I do.” One part of her mind held back, unable to forget William’s callous suggestion that they hasten the old man to his grave.

“
Then marry him, Audrey. Trust me. All will be well, and you’ll still be able to stand before God with a clear conscience. On my word as a gentleman, I promise ye that.”

Audrey seemed troubled and thoughtful when she returned from her walk with William, but Jocelyn noticed that the girl
’s tears had stopped. Thomas would be grateful.

“
Is all well?” she asked, as Audrey climbed the ladder into her loft.

“
Yes,” Audrey answered distractedly. “I’m going to pack my things.”

“
You are going somewhere?” Jocelyn called up, perplexed.

“
Yes,” Audrey called down. “On the morrow I’m to marry Master Bailie.”

The absurd wedding took place in the church before a handful of witnesses.
Thomas read the marriage service from the
Book of Common Prayer,
while William Clement stood behind his master’s back and watched his intended bride blush and stammer as she married another man.

At the conclusion of the ceremony, Roger Bailie took Audrey
’s hands and held them as he bowed to her. “My life, my respect, and my love are yours to do with as you will,” he said simply. “My home and all that I possess with thee I do endow.”

Audrey forced a pitiful, small smile, curtseyed slightly, then turned and ran from the church.

‘Twas a bright blue morning in early May when Jocelyn next met Audrey. The girl had been married for two days, and Jocelyn was desperately curious to know how her friend had fared.

“
Master Bailie has banished William from the house,” Audrey said, giving Jocelyn a troubled smile when they met in the clearing at the center of the village. “‘Tis better, after all. William now sleeps with the unmarried men in the house across the way, but I still see him as we work together.”

“
Is Master Bailie kind to you?” Jocelyn asked as they gathered water buckets to fill at the well.

“
Very kind,” Audrey admitted, falling into step beside Jocelyn as they began to walk. She lowered her voice lest anyone be hiding in the bushes that surrounded them. “On me wedding night, I could not stop crying. Master Bailie let me cry for a bit, then at length he climbed into bed and put his arm around me. He stroked me hair until I fell asleep.”

Jocelyn sighed.
Although hers wasn’t the only loveless marriage in the village, at least Master Bailie dared to be kindly affectionate with his wife.

“
He is—good,” Audrey said, her eyes welling with tears. “I can say nothing against him, Miss Jocelyn, and it bothers me to think William is watchin’ like a hawk lest Master Bailie touch me hand or whisper in me ear—”

“
Then stay clear of William Clement,” Jocelyn advised her. They reached the well, and Jocelyn tied her bucket onto the rope, then lowered it carefully into the depths. “If your love for William is true, it will last until God’s time for you to be together. But in the mean time, ‘twill do you no good to feast your eyes on something you cannot have.”

“
Aye,” Audrey agreed, helping Jocelyn haul her bucket back up. She colored slightly and twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “I asked him why he married me.”

“
In truth! What did he say?”

Audrey shrugged.
“He said he married me to save me from meself. Isn’t that odd? What do ye suppose he meant?”

Jocelyn rolled her eyes.
“What woman can know what’s in a man’s mind? He might be teasing, but—” A sudden twinge made Jocelyn catch her breath. She moaned, carefully lowering her bucket at her side, and a sudden wetness on her kirtle made her wonder if she had somehow spilled the water from her bucket. As a full-fledged birth pang struck, Jocelyn gasped and clutched her belly.

Audrey dropped her water bucket and shrieked.
“Och, Miss Jocelyn, ‘tis your time!” She left Jocelyn and raced for help in the village.

The pain passed after a moment, but
‘twouldn’t do to waste water, so Jocelyn picked up the heavy buckets and attempted to walk toward the shade of her house. She knew that some babies took hours in coming, and she wanted to be home when the baby arrived. Home, with Thomas, for in the last few weeks, she had formulated a plan and a prayer. If Thomas could not find room in his heart for another wife or even another son, mayhap he could find love for a daughter. And if God in heaven was just and kind, Jocelyn would give birth to a girl.

After nearly two days of sweaty, teeth-grinding labor, the baby had not come.
Eleanor stood back from her cousin’s bedside and wiped a strand of sticky hair from her brow. Babies ought not take so long—Virginia had not been this difficult to birth. And Margery Harvie had given birth in five hours. If only her father were here, he would know what to do.

Audrey sat quaking on a stool in a dark corner of the room, and Eleanor tugged on the girl
’s sleeve, then led her outside the house. The village lay quiet and still at this hour of the night. The only visible lamplight came from Jocelyn’s house and the window of the church where Thomas held a solitary prayer vigil.

“
We must have help,” Eleanor whispered fiercely while Audrey trembled with fear and exhaustion. “Miss Jocelyn is not strong enough to continue like this; the baby will die if not released soon.”

“
I don’t know how long she’ll be taking,” Audrey wailed, wringing her hands in her apron. “And I spoke to Doctor Jones earlier, mind ye, and he said ‘tis improper for him to treat women.” Her eyes glistened with tears of fear. “He says babies come naturally.”

“
What about the other women? Surely one of them must have some idea how to help.”

“
Mistress Viccars helped with your child, Miss, but she’s too torn up with grief over losing her own baby to come help Miss Jocelyn. And Agnes—”

“
Agnes is with Virginia. And she is less experienced than I am.”

Eleanor silently twisted the edge of her apron, fretting, when a low voice spoke from the darkness.
“Mistress Dare, how is my wife faring?”

She lifted her eyes and recognized the dim outline of the minister.
“I believe she’s not well, Reverend, and I’m at a loss as to what we should do. Doctor Jones won’t come, and I’ve done anything I can think of to help—”

A pain-filled scream ripped through the silence of the night, and Audrey darted back into the house to comfort Jocelyn.
Eleanor turned to go, too, but the minister’s hand caught her arm. A nighttime cloud shifted overhead, and for the first time Eleanor could see his face in the moonlight. His dark eyes were swollen, she thought even his lips trembled. But his voice was as calm and sure as when he gave the sermon on Sunday mornings. “Can you think of nothing else? I have heard of an Indian woman in the next village who is skilled in midwifery.”

“
I’faith, God has given you that answer,” Eleanor said, impulsively grabbing the sleeve of his doublet. “Go to her. If you hurry, mayhap there is time.”

“
I cannot go.” His voice had dropped.

Eleanor could not believe she heard him correctly.
“You cannot go? Faith, what do you mean? You alone can go, for who else ought to? She is your wife!”

“
I am—” He raised his eyes to the dark sky overhead, and for a brief instant his face bore evidence of the struggle in his soul. “I am a minister of the holy gospel, and I
cannot
, I must not go to a devil-worshipping heathen for help.”

Fury rendered Eleanor momentarily speechless.
Then she found her tongue: “You can go to the Devil!”

“
You could fetch your husband,” the minister said, his voice quietly flat.

Eleanor stared at him with the wide, unthinking eyes of a trapped animal, then she turned and sprinted toward her own house where Ananias lay sleeping.
She was so intent upon rousing her husband that she did not stop to consider that the minister had virtually arranged for her to send Ananias to the savages.

Dawn had just begun to pink the skies when the waking colony saw Ananias Dare emerge from the woods with two savages, a man and an older woman.
The man walked proudly, his eyes planted firmly on the back of Ananias’ head, and the woman followed the man, seemingly oblivious to the curious eyes of the colonists. The strange party walked to the minister’s home, then the Indian man stood outside with Ananias while Eleanor Dare allowed the savage woman into the house.

A moment later Audrey Bailie emerged.
Exhaustion lined the young girl’s face, and Roger Bailie stepped forward to escort his wife home. Ananias took a seat outside on the ground next to the Indian, and glanced resentfully toward the church, where through the open windows all could see the spare form of the minister kneeling in prayer.

No sound came from the small house for more than an hour, and many feared the minister’s young wife had died. Still, the curious colonists went about their work with frequent sidelong glances toward the house. Did Thomas Colman, who had often preached against adopting heathen practices, know that his wife’s life lay in the hands of a savage woman?

Not one of the villagers felt inclined to tell him.

Jocelyn drifted uneasily through a pain-filled mist, her body swollen and racked with agony. Pain had heightened her senses until she lay sated; she felt nothing and sensed nothing but a dull presence that begged to be released.

“
Jocelyn!” From far away, she thought she heard Thomas’ voice. “Jocelyn! God in heaven, do not take her, too!” Was he next to her, or in the attic room? She tried to lift her head, but could not do more than turn it.

A dark-haired Indian woman in a split skirt of deerskins determinedly dug a hole in the earthen floor next to her bed.

“
Dear God, I love her, spare her for me.” Thomas called again, and Jocelyn closed her eyes to hold back tears. “Jocelyn!” More sounds of sobbing broke the stillness.

She turned her head, slowly, toward the sound of brokenness and saw Thomas on his knees, his hands uplifted, his cheeks wet with tears.
“God, don’t let her leave me, please! Halt your heavy hand. I am not worthy, but show mercy this once, I pray you. Don’t take her from me.”

Jocelyn blinked.
Exhaustion pulled her down like a drowning soul, but she was not ready to surrender. There was a time to be born, a time to die, and a time to live boldly, faithfully, successfully . . .

Anguish.
Suffering. She felt her leaden arms and legs and the weight of the child within her body. A cutting pain between her legs. Someone, no, two people, pulled at her arms, urging her into an upright position. A voice commanded her in an abrupt foreign tongue, and Jocelyn cried out as her legs crumpled beneath her and she squatted over the hole in the floor.

Skilled, deft hands pressed upon her belly.
A final effort, a release, an expulsion of air and weight and then the sound of furious crying as the dark-haired woman lifted a child from the cavity in the floor. Her child: caked with earth and blood, head pointed, eyes closed and mouth open in a scream. Jocelyn saw the woman hand the child to Eleanor, who briskly set about cleaning the tiny body. Then the savage woman pressed Jocelyn back onto a blanket and began to rub a foul-smelling ointment over her torn and ragged flesh.

Jocelyn stirred and limply lifted a hand toward her cousin.
Had she imagined Thomas’ presence? She tried to ask for him, but her tongue was heavy and would not work. Eleanor saw the wave and nodded briskly. “The baby’s fine, and so are you, dearie. Lay back and sleep, Jocelyn. The good Lord knows you deserve a rest.”