“I won’t leave you, Nellie.” Mrs. Hopkins said as she replaced the candles that had burned down low in the cellar. The house was quiet and after Miriam relit the wax beacons she sat down in their soft glow and opened the Bible to the Song of Songs. Nell was as gray as the stone walls in the basement and her face betrayed her vacancy. She wondered what had actually happened. Did she lose her way? Did she tarry too long in the cold streets and faint from exposure? And why didn’t someone help her? Why didn’t a good Samaritan take her in to warm herself even for just a little while. There was a great influx of Irish immigrants in New York and they are a clannish people she knew. They helped each other. So why did Nellie have to die alone on the streets? Was the cold painful? Or did she fall asleep in the snow and the wind, too weak to carry on? The questions plagued her and the only way she could make any sense from such a tragedy was to remind herself that only God knows when it is time to come home. She attempted to alleviate her sorrow by reading:
“My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one,
and come away.
For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone;
The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is
come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land;
The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the
tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come
away.” She read softly. After a moment Mrs. Hopkins rose up and gazed into the dead girl’s face. She straightened her collar and touched her hand.
“I’m so sorry.” She whispered and then she resumed her seat and began reading again. Mr. Watkins crept down the wooden stairs slowly.
“Miriam.” He whispered. “You should go to bed.” She smiled at him kindly, nodded and placed the Bible in his hands.
“I’ll look after her.” He said wearily. And at that moment Miriam saw something she had never seen before. She could ‘see’ Henry in his youthful appearance. Twenty, maybe thirty years younger, a smart, dashing chap in a military uniform. Something overcame her and she leaned in and softly kissed him. He was taken aback and once the initial surprise wore off Henry wrapped his arms about her. They lingered there in a kind of restful reverie. Then Miriam pulled herself away gazed at him for a moment, smiled and made her way up the cellar stairs and back onto the first floor. He sat down with the Bible gripped tightly in his hands. Religion seemed foreign to him but the loss of a friend was too close and so he wept quietly for poor Nell.
The baby moved within and its restlessness woke Victoria. She could not find comfort as her back ached and she needed to relieve herself. She moved within Richard’s arms and he was fast asleep. The fire had died down and only a few embers still held their deep orange glow. She gazed up at the ceiling of the parlor and although, the snow had reached almost five feet outside and threatened to bury them in an icy tomb the first bits of dawn crept in and she realized they had survived another day. She studied his sleeping face and he was so handsome and innocent in his repose that tears of gratitude and affection welled up in her eyes. Certainly the coming baby enhanced the feelings of intimacy and joy and the overwhelming desire to be wrapped within his strong, majestic mien. She moved close to him and he stirred for a moment moving his arms into a full embrace. Still sleeping he kissed her neck and then let his head rest and he sailed back into his dream state. Gently she moved his arms, rose and quickly pulled on her skirt and bodice. She cloaked herself in her wool cape as the temperature in the room had fallen. She threw the last bits of wood onto the dying fire and stoked the coals until a flame erupted. Once the flame caught she knew the room would warm up with time. She wandered through the pocket doors and pulled the great velvet curtain away from the grand window. The snow had surpassed her height. The few remaining feet left uncovered revealed that the storm was not yet over. The snow fell steadily from the dark sky but the light seemed to fight its way through the thick clouds. Victoria lit a lantern and made her way up the grand staircase to the second floor. She knew Tammany was at the end of the hallway and so his countenance did not startle her. She quickly turned into her bedroom draped every inch in canvas for the winter. The dust rose in clouds and yet she seemed oblivious. She moved to a small room that was her privy and though it was very cold she felt compelled to relieve herself. She found a chamber pot and to keep what warmth she had she lifted her skirt and eased her bladder. There was a shift within and an odd quiver. Somehow she had felt the sensation before but she was so far along she thought nothing of it. As she gazed down into the chamber pot the bowl was bright red. A deep grief stricken groan rose up and transformed itself into a full blown wail that shook the foundations of the entire house. She collapsed in anguish and fear and her sobs seemed to rush over her of their own accord. She heaved in desperation with a sound that was absolutely primordial and could turn anyone’s, even the most courageous man’s blood cold.
Richard awakened instantly from the gut-wrenching cry and jumped up and out of the bison hide. Without even thinking he dashed through the pocket doors without a stitch to cover him and took to the stairs three and four at a time.
“VICTORIA!” He yelled concerned. “VICTORIA!” She could not yell back but caved in with distress and weeping. He followed the hushed tones of grief until he found her huddled in the corner beside the chamber pot. When he saw the cause of her suffering he immediately picked her up thinking if she were level in his arms that he could keep the baby from slipping away. He quickly carried her down the stairs and through the pocket doors and laid her down on the buffalo robe. Then he wiped away her tears and hovered over her whispering words of encouragement and hope.
“We will not lose this one. It is fated to be born. You understand that this child is supposed to live.” He said with absolute conviction. “And you. You are the one to bring him into this world. You know this to be true, don’t you? You are the one who will rear this child and he will change the world. And so because you have the sun and the moon and all the stars at your side you must believe that it is impossible to die.” He said and his face was fierce with truth and fervor. “Say it.” He instructed.
“It is impossible to die.” She said softly.
“It is impossible for him to die.” He repeated. “Do you believe?”
She nodded yes but her face betrayed her hesitancy. Then he lay down beside her and tenderly kissed her and said, “Remember when we took a carriage ride through Hyde Park.” She smiled and blushed and her gloom seemed to lift for the moment. “And you asked me if I believed in magic. And I said that as long as I am with you I ventured to say yes. And I thought to myself that how can a man of my station possibly be with a woman of your standing? If I believed in something greater than myself and submitted to the forces of that great good then it was possible. And look at us. We have created our own majestic place filled with splendor and excitement and children. We will have children. And this is only the first and he will be born…at the right time.” She threw her arms around him and her body heaved with emotion and she felt as though she had to believe. There was no other option. So she cast away her fear and she held onto the thoughts of this new child born healthy and strong. He held her for some time whispering ideas for how they would spend their first Christmas and what the nursery might look like. Whether it be a girl or a boy and what names seemed to be favored. Michael, Isabel, Louise, Genvieve, Yvette, Robert, Max, Margaret and Ashby. He got up momentarily to stoke what was left of the fire. She drank in his nakedness as he stood near the fireplace. He was svelt and muscular and healthy and he was exactly what she wanted. Even when she did not know, there was something in her soul that led her to him. And he was right, that the obstacles in their path could have easily torn them asunder. The world seemed at odds with them and at every turn suspicions and jealousies would erupt like secret undercurrents swirling about them. They defied convention. They challenged the norm. If it had not been for Victoria’s tireless devotion to her philanthropic work they could quite easily be pariahs within New York Society. They were on the fringe as it is and so as much as they tried to alleviate other’s discomfort in their union they did not pay much mind to opinions and gossip. The fire had died down again and Richard pulled on his trousers, shirt and coat.
“While I am out I’ll come up with a boy’s name and you come up with a girl’s name and we’ll have tea and talk about our plans.” He said cheerfully.
He wrapped her up under the Buffalo Robe and went to fetch more wood for the fire. As he stepped outside the wind had died down but the snow was falling furiously. The drifts were so high that they reached his forehead leveled off. As he peered above the snowy landscape he could only see the tops of the trees breaking out of their white cocoons and the blue grey of dawn just about to light up the cloud filled sky. He moved back in to the kitchen and fastened the makeshift snowshoes to his boots. Then with his hands he attempted to carve a ramp up to the surface of the snow. He was not even sure where to look for wood and if he could find a cord already chopped he would have to dig it out. He wondered if it would be easier to break up the chairs in the dining hall but it seemed a sin to consume such beautiful craftsmanship and carving. He ventured out and made his way around the side of the manor. He found a fallen branch in the yard and decided he would use it to poke through the snow and locate something appropriate for burning.
Even though he was only yards away outside Victoria could feel his absence. The quiet was at once comforting and yet she could hear her mind jumping from one thought to another. The horse whinnied and stamped in the kitchen and she knew the poor animal must be hungry. She did not move. If she kept herself recumbent then her body might recover and the baby would be all right. She decided she could keep her spirits up if she hummed something upbeat and possibly inspirational. She sifted through her mental repertoire and discovered a few uplifting songs that the reformers would sing before the opening of lectures on women’s rights and the plight of orphans in the world. And so she hummed softly and the music seemed like salve for her. The bay whinnied almost as an accompaniment and it made her giggle.
“That’s right, Michelangelo, sing!” She said aloud and the horse neighed and bobbed its head in response as she sung verses to songs she knew.
He drove the branch down into the drift and it hit the ground easily. Even though his task seemed daunting and frustrating he held in his mind the image of his son being born and it made him smile and it filled his heart with such reverence that he was aware that something holy and sacred was at work. He could will it into being just like he willed his relationship with Victoria into being. But it could not come from a self-serving, ego driven place. It had to be in complete synchronization with the cosmos. It had to be born from a place of ‘all love’ and a kind of submission to the machinations of universe. And that is how the divine manifests as magic. He stopped for a moment and in the silence of the falling snow he could hear her faint voice singing from inside. He smiled and he imagined there was an entire cord of wood just under him against the house and as he drove the pole down a few feet further he hit something and began to dig. He cupped his hands as a shovel and whittled his way down until he found exactly what he was looking for. Then he stood upright, gazed at the snow-filled sky and chanted “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
After making several trips from the frozen woodpile to the kitchen, Richard commenced rebuilding the fire. It was early morning and there was not much left to eat. There was a small bit of cheese left in the picnic basket and a scrap of beef that had hardened in the cold. He could make her some tea at least and then forage down in the root cellar to see what might be edible. Once he stoked the fire and the flames sprang up miraculously from the sodden logs he pulled the kettle from the kitchen and let it heat on the hearth. He moved close to her.
“How are you feeling?” he asked as he brushed a few stray hairs from her cheek.
“I haven’t moved and so I haven’t noticed anything.” She replied.
“Don’t sit up.” He instructed. “May I look?” He asked. She nodded and he pulled away the bison hide and then carefully lifted her skirt. A cursory glance revealed that whatever hemorrhaging had occurred had stopped. He replaced her skirt and covered her with the animal skin.
“I don’t think you should move.” He said. “Not even to sit up.” She seemed to agree and her eyes glazed over with caution. A hush seemed to cascade over the room and it was so quiet they could hear Michelangelo breathing in the kitchen.
“We have to find something for her to eat.” Victoria said softly.
“We’ll have to find something for us to eat first.” He said and he gazed quietly at the fire and poked at it so the flames would drive away any moisture. He was pensive and tried hard to keep a cheerful tone. She studied him for some time as he quietly pulled the kettle off the fire and methodically made her tea just the way she liked it.
“I’ll have to sit up to drink it.” She said softly. He nodded then he wandered into the grand dining area and pulled a few pillows from the couches and chairs.
“Let me bear your weight.” He said and his strong arms lifted her slightly as he moved a few pillows into position. The tea was absolutely enchanting and seemed to be the only thing that connected her to her routine and her life as she knew it. Just the aroma of it brought back memories of her mother and grandmother and afternoons spent in lively conversation and witty repartee. She missed her mother terribly and that thought led her to the fact that she missed Mrs. Hopkins and hoped that her trusted Governess was fairing well in the storm. She wished there was a way to send a message to her to let Miriam know that she was all right. Richard sipped his tea quietly watching the flames lick at the wood, the hiss and crackle of water set free. She could see a heaviness settle on him.
“What has happened is not because of anything we did.” She said almost whispering and he turned and looked at her. “It was not wrong and it was not dangerous or careless. It is something that has happened. It happened once before and I took every precaution----“ She said stopping abruptly as the words caught in her throat and the tears flowed easily. He moved to her and took her hands. And after a moment she regained herself. “There is something you should know.” She said and she trembled as she spoke and her face betrayed a great, painful hardship.
“You don’t have to tell me. I am already aware of the past.” He confided. “And it is too hard.” And the words caught in his throat and he wiped his eyes and took a deep breath and attempted to find his balance again.
“Please do not ever restrict yourself from me or I shall find it unbearable.” She said. And he found a handkerchief in his trouser pocket and dried her tears. “I want to make love with you – that way - with wild abandon as if it is our last day each and every time.” She whispered. “We can create our intimacy just like we have created our marriage.” And he gazed at her face resplendent and fair, her dark eyes filled with incredible veracity. “I want…” She began and then she fell silent and blushed,
“What.” He whispered. And she drew close and said, “I want you to have pleasure.”
“But I do.” He replied. He did not quite understand what she meant. And she thought if they had come this far in their candidness she may as well continue.
“I want to know…what it is…you like.” She said. And her eyes burned with a scintillating knowing.
“I like everything…that happens between us.” He said.
“But there are certain things that might give you more pleasure and that is what I am asking.” She continued. And the heaviness that seemed to bear down at the beginning of their conversation began to evaporate.
“Perhaps when you are feeling better, we’ll experiment.” He said cryptically and his face flushed at the thought of engaging in certain acts with her.
“I won’t break.” She said.
“I know.” He replied.
“If it is a choice between me and having children.” She said almost out of breath. “Then I choose me.” And he understood her perfectly. He let his hands run over the thick fur of the buffalo robe and he was glad she put herself first. He was glad that she was mindful enough to know exactly what she needed because it was the exact thing that he needed and wanted and desired and if children were born as a result then they would be blessed all the more from it.
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