The Solitary Envoy (35 page)
“Sit, my dear,” Anne urged quietly. “Take up the spoon and nourish yourself.”
But Erica sat frozen to the spot. For there in the middle of the kitchen table was the latest pamphlet. Gareth’s masthead glimmered, obviously still slightly wet from the presses. Beneath it ran the title, “Tragic Occurrences in Manchester.” And below that were the words that held her fast: “Eyewitness Account by Miss Erica Langston.”
She looked up to meet Anne’s eyes.
“Yes, I know. It shocked me as well when I saw it. Gareth was uncertain whether Daniel and the others would be up to the task of printing without him there to supervise. But his men knew just what to do. Gareth has found but two errors in the entire six pages—which is less than he discovers within his own work. He was very pleased.”
Yet another realization halted the spoon’s progress. “This means … The pamphlets, they are out there? Being sold, I mean.”
Anne had a manner of showing humor with little save a heightened sparkle in her gaze. “Gareth’s men have spread out far and wide.”
Erica felt dizzy. First the declaration upstairs, now this; the day could scarcely hold another thing.
Or so she thought.
“Ah, there you are.” The little man with the unkempt clouds of white hair came into the kitchen. “No, don’t you dare rise. Hasn’t our cook outdone herself with that lovely stew?”
“The master scarcely eats enough to keep a bird alive,” the chef protested.
William Wilberforce gave his gentle smile. “Perhaps this is why they call me the Sparrow of Parliament.”
The young woman who had met Erica in the front parlor the previous day entered the kitchen. “It is the Nightingale of Parliament that they call you, as you know full well.”
“Is it? I don’t recall.” He kept his gentle gaze upon Erica. “Did you rest well?”
“Indeed, sir. I cannot thank you enough for your kind hospitality.”
“This house is open to you at any and all times. But enough about that. I wished merely to congratulate you on your most remarkable work.”
She could not bring herself to look over at the pamphlets. “I wish it were better.”
“Of course you do. We all wish the same thing. For our efforts are so vague and our thoughts so fretful.”
Anne chided softly, “You must finish your meal, my dear, before it grows stone cold.”
Wilberforce’s gaze had the power to calm, so that Erica could return to her meal in peace. “It is just as you say, sir.”
“Gareth approached me after our first meeting and said that he was convinced you would become a worthy addition to our cause. I am very pleased to see how right he was.”
“I did not do this in hopes—”
“Of course not. You did this to help a friend. And in so doing you found yourself confronted with the horrors of a world living outside God’s divine will.”
Erica managed to say, “Just so.”
Wilberforce pulled out a chair and settled himself down beside her. “Shall I tell you something I discovered many years ago? By leaning upon God’s will, we are granted new and remarkable freedoms. The outside world sees us as chained. We go where they choose not, we see what they prefer to ignore, we dress in a manner they call severe. They hold up to us the so-called freedoms of this world and declare themselves happier for it. They live in blindness, both to the pains of others and the remorse and strife within their own souls.”
Erica set down her spoon. “Your words are a great comfort, sir. And a greater challenge.”
He was silent a moment, then said, “There is a passage from Proverbs, one I sometimes feel God has said to me and me alone. And yet I desire to share it with you, one friend to another.”
Erica felt a faint tremor race through her. Friend.
“The passage reads, ‘There are many devices in a man’s heart; nevertheless the counsel of the Lord, that shall stand.’ Do those words speak to you, my dear?”
She did not trust her voice, so made do with a nod.
“There, you see? I was right to trust you with this confidence. The prophet Hosea says, ‘Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap in mercy; break up your fallow ground: for it is time to seek the Lord, till he come and rain righteousness upon you.’ ”
William Wilberforce rose to his feet. “I shall look forward with great anticipation to our next meeting, my dear. Thank you for the service you have rendered to our cause.”
Erica’s eyes were stinging when the carriage pulled into the embassy forecourt. By this time of evening the official ground floor should be empty and all the stern men with their pressing affairs gone. Now it was a home, and a welcome one at that. Jacob Harwell was stepping down the front stairs and adjusting his hat. “A very good evening to you, Miss Erica. The family is very happy to hear you are returning.”
“Hello, Jacob. Are you the last to leave tonight?”
“The ambassador asked me to complete a matter for him.”
“I am certain you did an excellent job of it.” She held a hand up to assist Anne from the carriage. “Might I introduce someone it is my honor to call a friend? Anne Crowley, this is the deputy minister plenipotentiary’s most trusted aide, Jacob Harwell.”
“An honor, ma’am.”
“I feel quite the same, sir. My dear, are you certain it is proper for me to accompany you upstairs?”
“I insist that they meet you.”
“They are looking forward to it, ma’am,” Jacob added. “Word has come that you were the one who assisted Miss Erica in Manchester.”
His meaning sank in. “Do you mean that they have heard about the pamphlet?”
“All of London talks of little else.”
“Jacob, please, I am unsettled enough already. You mustn’t jest about this.”
“Jest? Miss Erica, do you not know?”
Her hand flew to her throat. “Know what?”
“Crowds gathered before Parliament this afternoon. No one knows who called them together, but they came in the thousands. All of them waving your pamphlet over their heads and crying for justice.”
She said weakly, “This can’t be.”
“I must tell you, I was forced to halt my own reading on three different occasions when the words blurred before my eyes.” He cleared his throat. “Even now I cannot think of those poor women and children without feeling a true agony in my heart.”
Her reply was halted by a high-pitched cry from inside the front hallway. “Must I wait upstairs
forever
?”
“Of course not, dear,” her mother replied. “Go on now and greet her.”
A little figure raced through the front door and flung herself at Erica. “You have been gone so long!”
“Abbie.” She never thought the greeting of a child could bring her such joy. “I have missed you so much.”
The little girl refused to let her go. “You can’t go home and leave me here forever. You can’t.”
Lavinia stepped up next to her daughter and said, “Don’t forget, you yourself will be going back to America as well one day.”
“Yes, but that won’t be for years and years.”
The pressure of her mother’s hand upon her shoulder pried Abbie away. “Should Erica remain here for you, just to have you go and leave her alone?”
Abbie’s little hands rose to brush at her cheeks. “But I missed her.”
“And now she is home with you once more. So we must be happy for this blessing.” Lavinia embraced Erica. “It is good to see you again.”
Abbie turned to the dark-clad stranger and gave a proper curtsy. “Hello. Are you Erica’s friend too?”
“I am indeed and count it as a great blessing.” Anne Crowley smiled at the child. “You are Abbie, and you must call me Miss Anne.”
“How do you do.” She curtsied a second time. “Please, Miss Anne, why are you all in black?”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “Abbie, please.”
“But she is, Mama. Look, she even has shiny buttons on her gloves, and they are black as well.”
“They are pearls, actually. Would you like to unhook them?” Anne bent over and allowed Abbie to unbutton and pull off a glove. “I lost my husband, you see.”
“And you miss him still?”
“So very much.”
The second glove’s button proved much harder to undo. “Do black clothes cry for you so you mustn’t weep all the time?”
Abbie must have sensed the sudden tension in the air, for she jerked her head around, fearful she had said the wrong thing. Before her mother could chide her, however, Anne replied in an easy manner, “That’s part of it, I suppose. But it is also a sign to all the world that I am in mourning.”
“But it’s almost nighttime.”
“Indeed it is, what an observant child you are. But no, this is a different word that sounds the same as the dawn hours. This particular word means, well, means I am learning to live with loss.” She helped Abbie pull off the second glove. “Would you like to put them on your own hands?”
“Oh, please, may I?”
Lavinia moved up alongside Erica. The two of them stood in companionable silence and watched as Abbie’s open-hearted curiosity charmed yet another person. It was good to be back in a place of calm and welcome.
Abbie asked, “How long must you wear black?”
“Polite society says a year.”
“That seems like ever so long a time.”
“Yes, it does, doesn’t it,” Anne agreed thoughtfully.
“I know,” Abbie said brightly. “Perhaps you could wear pretty clothes when no one else can see you. Or when you are just with friends who won’t ever tell.”
“What a novel thought.”
Lavinia sighed but said nothing.
Even so, Abbie caught the sound and added hastily, “Not that your clothes aren’t lovely, Miss Anne. I meant only that they are so …”
“So very black. I could not agree more.” The older woman reached forward and stroked the young cheek.
Abbie turned around so as to show off her black-clad hands. “Look, Mama! Aren’t they lovely?”
“May you never have need of such for years and years.”
Lavinia turned to Anne. “Might I invite you upstairs for tea?”
“Thank you, but my own family is expecting me.” Anne’s smile shone in the sky that was just beginning to darken. “Perhaps you will permit me to accept the invitation some other day?”
“You are most welcome any time you wish.”
Abbie peeled off the oversized gloves and handed them back. “Does this mean we are to be friends?”
“Do you know,” Anne replied solemnly, “I could think of nothing that would please me more.” She said her good-byes to Erica and Lavinia and turned back toward the carriage.
Erica collected her things and watched the unloading of her two valises. She stood with one arm around Lavinia and the other upon Abbie’s shoulder and smiled a farewell as the carriage pulled through the embassy’s front gates. Although she was emotionally spent and physically exhausted from the past few days, though her heart still ached from all she had witnessed, still she felt as rich and complete as she ever had in her life.
She raised her gaze to the moon that had appeared in the still-blue sky overhead.
Thank you, Father,
she prayed,
for this place of welcome and people who accept me as family. Thank you for giving meaning to even the darkest moments of my life. Thank you for showing me how to speak with you like this, in comfort and in love
.
Lavinia picked up one of the valises and ushered Abbie toward the front door. “Welcome home, my dear.”
Erica hefted her remaining case and turned her back on Piccadilly and the trundling traffic and all the outside world. Friends.
By the middle of the following week, Erica’s life had entered into a new routine. Mornings she spent working through the embassy’s accounts and helping Lavinia about the home. Lunchtimes were given over to hearing Abbie report on her latest lessons. Then precisely at two, Daniel appeared in Gareth’s carriage to escort her to the manor of William Wilberforce.
There was a new bounce to her step these days, a new smile upon her lips. Even the weather was with her, for the days were bathed in a brilliant summer light. And most important of all, Gareth was making steady progress toward full recovery. He was always dressed and seated upon the front portico to greet her. Anne Crowley was often there as well, for her great-aunt was increasingly active in work related to new Manchester projects. Anne always greeted Erica with genuine warmth, then left her with Gareth to stroll the unkempt gardens and talk.
Erica remained amazed at how much she had to say to Gareth. She was startled by her own openness and yet thrilled by all they were sharing. She awoke in the middle of the night, full of new ideas, recalling matters she had meant to speak of the previous day that had been swept away in a tide of ideas and thoughts and passions. There was so much goodness and wisdom to this man, so many hidden facets to delight in. She increasingly found their parting each afternoon to be a genuine trial.
Then three letters arrived from home—two from her mother and a lovely note from her brother. After she had shared them with Gareth, he had hesitantly drawn a page of his own from his pocket and read to her the first words he had penned since becoming ill. Her heart felt so full, hearing Gareth read and then seeing how avidly he sought her response. She could not stop a single tear from escaping. The day was just too full.
Late that afternoon Erica walked to Grosvenor Square to survey the building site. Normally Abbie accompanied her on these outings, but today the little girl was busy with her governess. Erica missed her company; Abbie had the ability to brighten the most mundane of activities, such as counting the workers on the almost-finished house.
Normally Erica would go and speak a few kind words to the bricklayer or a nearby apprentice, exchange formal greetings with the master builder, and be on her way. Today, however, the robust carpenter doffed his hat and stepped away from the worksite.
“I’d be grateful for a word with you, miss.”
“Is there a problem, Master Dobbins?”
“Not with the work, miss. We’ll be done and gone in a month, two at the most.”
She watched the way he twisted his cap in his heavy hands. “I have been most careful to pay everything on time—”
“You’ve treated me better than most, miss.” The cap went through another dusty revolution. “Better than I deserve.”
