black-blooded sputum, which was disgustingly foul.
It was a fateful day for Robert Barlow; not only had he lost his father to death, he had gained his heart's desire. Tumultuous emotions warred within him, taking him to the brink of collapse. Gratitude toward Bess almost undid him as she helped him up the stairs to his bedchamber.
Robert was thankful it was a spacious, comfortable room with a fireplace, since from now on it would have to accommodate two. He sat on the bed, exhausted, drained of every drop of his energy. As if Bess knew exactlyhow he felt, she began to undress him. When she knelt to remove his boots, he felt humbled. Tears flooded his eyes as he looked down upon her beloved red head.
On a sob he asked, “Bess, how can this be the unhappiest, yet the happiest day of my life?”
Bess rose, sat on the bed beside him, and gathered him into her arms. “Rob, we have
fateful days
when both good and bad things can happen … things that alter our lives. There is absolutely nothing more you can do for your father, he's in God's hands.” You, however, are in my hands, she thought with silent resolution. “I want you to rest and regain your strength.” She finished undressing him in her capable manner, tucked the covers about him, then restoked the fire.
“Bess, don't leave me.”
She came back to the bed and once more enfolded him against her breast. Suddenly, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He began to sob out his heart, and Bess held him tightly, giving him her strength, her comfort, and her love.
When Robert slept, Bess went downstairs. It was midafternoon and her family was still there. Marcella had helped to wash and lay out Arthur Barlow, and Ralph and James had gone to the barn to milk the Barlow cows. Jane slipped her hand into Bess's and squeezed. Meanwhile, Reverend Rufus was making arrangements with the widow for Arthur Barlow's burial.
They stopped talking as Mistress Barlow stared at Bess with hard eyes. “ 'Tis indecent—you couldn't wait to get him into bed!”
Bess was shocked at her implication. She looked directly into her mother-in-law's eyes. “Robert is ill. I shall do my best to nurse him back to health. I would like your cooperation.”
Marcella, who had been holding her tongue for hours, declared, “Bess is right. You will be burying your son alongside his father unless you open your eyes.” She turned to Bess's mother. “I'll go back and see that the girls get their supper.”
“I'll come with you,” Bess said. “I must get my things.”
“We'll all go; I think Mistress Barlow needs a little peace and quiet,” Elizabeth Hardwick said firmly.
When they arrived home Bess immediately went upstairs to pack. Rogue Cavendish's letter still lay on the bedside table. Bess snatched it up and tore it in half, then thought better of destroying it completely and placed it at the bottom of her trunk.
She folded her clothes, then, as an afterthought, picked up her long-forgotten doll Esmeralda, who had been passed on to her younger sisters. She realized the doll was a representation of herself. She had named her Lady Ponsonby, hoping someday to become a titled lady in her own right. How naive she had been. Bess put the doll into the trunk, closed the lid, and stared down at it. Everything she owned in the world was in that chest.
Her mother slipped into the room. “Bess, how can I ever, ever thank you? You are so kind and unselfish, I can't believe it.”
I'm not! I'm the most selfish female in the world. Thank God you cannot hear my thoughts.
“Don't ever lose that paper Mistress Barlow signed. She can never press charges against Ralph so long as you have it safe in your possession!”
Marcella entered the bedroom as her mother left. “Bess, what can I say, child? You won't get much comfort out of this marriage, except knowing you've given Elizabeth and Ralph peace of mind.”
“It is Robert who needs comfort.”
“And you will give it to him, in full measure.”
It was a fateful day for Robert Barlow; not only had he lost his father to death, he had gained his heart's desire. Tumultuous emotions warred within him, taking him to the brink of collapse. Gratitude toward Bess almost undid him as she helped him up the stairs to his bedchamber.
Robert was thankful it was a spacious, comfortable room with a fireplace, since from now on it would have to accommodate two. He sat on the bed, exhausted, drained of every drop of his energy. As if Bess knew exactlyhow he felt, she began to undress him. When she knelt to remove his boots, he felt humbled. Tears flooded his eyes as he looked down upon her beloved red head.
On a sob he asked, “Bess, how can this be the unhappiest, yet the happiest day of my life?”
Bess rose, sat on the bed beside him, and gathered him into her arms. “Rob, we have
fateful days
when both good and bad things can happen … things that alter our lives. There is absolutely nothing more you can do for your father, he's in God's hands.” You, however, are in my hands, she thought with silent resolution. “I want you to rest and regain your strength.” She finished undressing him in her capable manner, tucked the covers about him, then restoked the fire.
“Bess, don't leave me.”
She came back to the bed and once more enfolded him against her breast. Suddenly, he couldn't hold it in any longer. He began to sob out his heart, and Bess held him tightly, giving him her strength, her comfort, and her love.
When Robert slept, Bess went downstairs. It was midafternoon and her family was still there. Marcella had helped to wash and lay out Arthur Barlow, and Ralph and James had gone to the barn to milk the Barlow cows. Jane slipped her hand into Bess's and squeezed. Meanwhile, Reverend Rufus was making arrangements with the widow for Arthur Barlow's burial.
They stopped talking as Mistress Barlow stared at Bess with hard eyes. “ 'Tis indecent—you couldn't wait to get him into bed!”
Bess was shocked at her implication. She looked directly into her mother-in-law's eyes. “Robert is ill. I shall do my best to nurse him back to health. I would like your cooperation.”
Marcella, who had been holding her tongue for hours, declared, “Bess is right. You will be burying your son alongside his father unless you open your eyes.” She turned to Bess's mother. “I'll go back and see that the girls get their supper.”
“I'll come with you,” Bess said. “I must get my things.”
“We'll all go; I think Mistress Barlow needs a little peace and quiet,” Elizabeth Hardwick said firmly.
When they arrived home Bess immediately went upstairs to pack. Rogue Cavendish's letter still lay on the bedside table. Bess snatched it up and tore it in half, then thought better of destroying it completely and placed it at the bottom of her trunk.
She folded her clothes, then, as an afterthought, picked up her long-forgotten doll Esmeralda, who had been passed on to her younger sisters. She realized the doll was a representation of herself. She had named her Lady Ponsonby, hoping someday to become a titled lady in her own right. How naive she had been. Bess put the doll into the trunk, closed the lid, and stared down at it. Everything she owned in the world was in that chest.
Her mother slipped into the room. “Bess, how can I ever, ever thank you? You are so kind and unselfish, I can't believe it.”
I'm not! I'm the most selfish female in the world. Thank God you cannot hear my thoughts.
“Don't ever lose that paper Mistress Barlow signed. She can never press charges against Ralph so long as you have it safe in your possession!”
Marcella entered the bedroom as her mother left. “Bess, what can I say, child? You won't get much comfort out of this marriage, except knowing you've given Elizabeth and Ralph peace of mind.”
“It is Robert who needs comfort.”
“And you will give it to him, in full measure.”
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