Fall From Grace (Slater #1) (6 page)

“What do you mean you are with child? Are you trying to accuse me of fucking you?” he whispered, his spit hitting her face.

Laura shut her eyes tight and shook her head.  She heard the man sigh and felt him let go of her arm.  She resisted the urge to rub where he had pinched hold of her.  Slowly she opened her eyes and saw him still staring down at her, his arms were crossed over his wide belly, he stood at least a foot and half higher than her and she felt like a small child in his presence.

“Why are you telling me you are with child? Did you think I would give you charity?” he asked with a sneer on his face.

“I don’t want your charity sir” Laura said. “My child belongs to Porter” she almost whispered.

The man’s mouth dropped open and Laura watched as the redness ebbed its way from his neck to his hairline.  The pulse on his temple beat with his heart and his eyes narrowed to a squint. He stepped closer to Laura and she flinched back, afraid of what he was about to do.  Once again the man grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her to the seat that was next to the fire, shoving her back until she flopped down onto the chair.

Mr Slater stood over her, his fat finger in her face, his other hand on his hip. His shadow by the fire, seemed to take over the whole room and Laura wanted to slide down into the chair and hide away.

“I know who you are, your mother was a whore and now here you sit a whore, telling me, my son, who has gone to become a man of God fucked you” he spat.

Laura felt her anger rise; she hated that people called her mother a whore.  No one in the town knew the real story, but that gave them no right to make assumptions of her mother. Laura stood, demanding the little space that was between the chair and Mr Slater.

“My mother is not a whore, my father is in gaol, in gaol for protecting me, for killing the man who tried to take me, he was a good man and my mother is a broken woman” she shouted her voice cracking.

Mr Slater stepped back and the look of shock was all over his face, before it quickly turned to anger. He grabbed her arm again and shook her violently.  Laura fought back the tears that threatened to flow down her cheeks; she didn’t want him to see that she was as frightened as she was.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that, in my home” he bellowed.  His voice echoed throughout the room and probably throughout the mansion. 

Laura looked towards the door, hoping that someone would come in to save her.  But the door remained firmly shut.  Mr Slater wiped his hand down over his face and smoothed his beard. When he removed his hand he looked calm.

“Sit down please child” he said more softly pointing towards the chair.

Laura sat down gingerly watching his face as he eased himself into the big leather chair in front of her.

“What do you need? Do you want money is that it?” he asked.

Laura shook her head.

“I don’t want your money sir. I would like you to tell Porter, so that he can be in the child’s life, my mother is poorly and going to die, I will be all alone once she is gone.” Laura said.

Mr Slater snapped his head towards her, she couldn’t read his face, but soon he burst into a loud belly laugh that shook his whole body.

“Child you expect me to call my son home from the seminary so he can look after a sluts child?” he spoke, his voice thick with poison.

Laura felt the tears she had been fighting finally burst through their banks and start to weave a tapestry down her cheeks through the dirt.  Mr Slater continued to watch her as she dabbed at her eyes with the back of her sleeve.  He ran his hand over his face again and leaned forward, touching her knee tenderly.

“Child, don’t cry. How do you know this child your carrying belongs to my son?” he asked softly.

Laura sniffed and raised her eyes to look him in the face.

“He is the only man I’ve ever been with” she said as Mr Slater groaned and muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite make out.

Suddenly he stood, causing Laura to flinch; he pointed a fat hand towards her.  She looked down at his hand before gently taking it in hers and stood slowly.

“If it’s not money you are after, but you want my son to know, I will send notice to him.  I’m sure he will come back for you, now go, your mother is poorly so you need to look after her. Don’t worry about Porter. I will deal with him” he said as he led her to the large door of the sitting room.

When they entered into the cold foyer, she saw two men standing the doorway and recognised them instantly as Porter’s brothers Cole and Simon.

“Please organise a ham and some bread for Laura and then escort her back to her cottage” Mr Slater spoke to the boys, before turning and returning back to the sitting room, shutting the door with a heavy thud. 

Laura stood in the cold foyer and watched as Simon headed down the long passageway to what Laura assumed was the kitchen.  She looked back towards Cole, who stood staring at her, his eyes narrowed, his arms crossed across his broad chest.  They didn’t say anything to each other and when Simon returned with a large ham and two loaves of bread in a basket, Cole took them from him and brushed past Laura.

She walked quickly to keep up with him. She wanted to talk to him, she wanted to tell him that Porter was the father of her child, but she couldn’t find the words to speak.  As they neared the cottage, she could see her Aunt in the garden.  Aunt looked up and saw Laura and Cole walking towards them.  She narrowed her eyes at Cole.

“Father asked me to send this ham and bread home to Laura and her mother, please keep the basket” he said.

Aunt took the ham and basket from him, sharply nodding her head. Cole turned without another word and left back through the woods and Laura followed her Aunt into the small cottage.  Her mother’s hacking cough filled the room.

Chapter Ten

Porter.

The days at the seminary seemed to drag along.  Porter had learnt fairly quickly into the training that this was Richard’s dream and not his.  He knew better than to rock the boat and concentrated on his studies.  He went to his lessons, spent hours in prayer and read the bible that his father had given to him, back to front. He hoped that eventually through habit it would become something he loved.  In the first few weeks, his mind constantly wandered to Laura and the crazed look in her eye when he had passed in the carriage.  He had seen her about to step forward, but a perverse part of him hadn’t panicked, he had wanted to see what she would do, but at the last minute she had stepped back.

He hadn’t heard from his father, in fact he had no communication from any of his family or friends.  Porter made friends easy enough and had got to know several of the other men in his classes. Not that idle speak was looked upon lightly, they weren’t to speak during classes, prayer time or meal time.  Generally everyone walked around the halls of the large buildings in silence, their heads down.  Porter often wondered what the other men were thinking about. Were they really as devoted to the church as he assumed or did they have doubts like he did? Occasionally one of the men would talk about his fears when they sat out in the long grass together, but their fears seemed to be only whether they would be a good priest.  They weren’t the same fears as Porter.  Fears that there was no God and this was worth nothing. He kept his fears to himself.

At first Laura was on his mind, actually most of the women that he had shared intimate time with was on his mind regularly, but after a few weeks, they seemed to find a compartment marked not to think about and he forgot about all of them.  He realised that all his practice, the prayer, the reading, the self-flagellation worked and he started to believe that being a priest like his father was his calling.  He found himself looking forward to getting up each morning for prayer and his lessons.

He received his first letter from his father, five months after he started at the seminary.  Richard wrote that he hadn’t wanted to distract Porter from his studies.  He wrote about all of his family, informing Porter what each of his siblings were doing with their life.  It sounded that everything was going accordingly to his father’s plan for his brood.  Porter took a pencil and paper out and sat in the small light of the candle and the wooden desk and began to write back to his father. Porter told Richard about how much God was changing him, how much he had learnt and his progress.  He thanked Richard for suggesting to join the seminary.  The men at the seminary weren’t allowed to leave the grounds so he sealed his letter and had it sent off for him.

Laura.

Laura hoped to hear from Porter and his father assured that he was going to send word. But yet nothing, Aunt said not to hold out hope.  Laura didn’t want to believe that the man who touched her so tenderly, that loved her so greatly would be capable hurting her so terribly, but every time she thought about it, Porter’s eyes would appear in front of Laura’s face. They were the eyes of the devil as he made love to the red haired woman under the bridge and that sardonic grin that adorned his face.  Laura’s tears had dried, but her mind seemed to be going with every growth of her belly. 

Laura’s mother was getting sicker every day.  A shell of her former self, Laura watched as Aunt would lift her easily from the bed to clean Gwendoline.  It broke Laura’s heart, she couldn’t imagine living without her mother.  The hacking cough seemed to be constantly present. Laura spent almost every night tucked up beside her mother in bed and every time the cough would prevent Gwendoline from breathing Laura would roll her mother onto her side and rub her back for her.

One night they lay there huddled together, Gwendoline’s cough wracked through her system.  Laura reached out to her mother and gently eased Gwendoline’s shoulders onto her side rubbing her back, until her mother was able to gather her breath again.  It wasn’t much breathing; it was more a loud wheezing sound, it felt to Laura that her mother couldn’t get air down into her lungs instead her breath seemed to get caught in her throat.  As they lay there, the moon high in the sky, the fire smouldering, Laura’s arm slung over her mother’s waist and Laura’s large pregnant belly pressed into her mother bony back, Gwendoline entwined her fingers with Laura’s.

“Child?” Gwendoline gasped.  Laura tightened her embrace to let her mother know that she was still awake. “It won’t be long for me now; I’m trying to hang on for you to have your own child so my passing won’t be so painful, but I can’t hold on much longer.  Remember no matter what you were my whole heart.”

Laura felt the warm tear slip from her eye, she couldn’t find the words to speak, she didn’t want to believe that her mother was about to die, but she knew she couldn’t keep pushing away the truth of the situation. They laid in each other’s arms for the rest of the night.  Laura awoke with a start in the morning; she could feel the coldness under her arm and against her body.  Her mother wasn’t wheezing and panic began to creep in like a dark shadow threatening to envelope Laura. 

“Mam?” Laura quietly squeaked.

Gwendoline didn’t reply. Laura sat up gingerly on the bed, the room was still dark, but from the small light that entered from the window, Laura could see that dawn was quickly approaching.  She reached out a tender hand and touched her mother’s face, but snatched it back when the skin was ice cold under her fingers. The skin although elastic moved over the hardness of the rigid muscles and bone underneath.  Laura realised that she had her eyes squeezed shut and was yet to look at her mother.  Willing her eyes open slowly, she peered at her mother’s face that was now grey in colour, her lips a neon blue, her emerald eyes paled and had become opaque. The ice cold demon of panic reached up and gripped at Laura’s throat, her mouth went dry and she began to tremble. 

Laura tried to call out to Aunt, but she couldn’t say anything no words would come.  She pulled her mother’s body close to hers, the skin was cold; her mother was so cold. Laura wanted to warm her. She pulled Gwendoline into a strong embrace, trying to warm her body, silently pleading for her to wake up. She reached up and began to smooth Gwendoline’s hair, brushing her fingers through the once beautiful blonde locks, her mind drifted to her father. He would never know of his wife’s passing, Laura had no way of communicating with him. She didn’t know where he was.  Her child kicked and danced in her belly against her mother’s rigid back. A silent tear slipped from her eye as the cloud of darkness descended and swallowed Laura whole.

She hadn’t realised that she had fallen asleep, but woke to Aunt’s wails.  Laura snapped her eyes open, reality crashing like a tsunami.  She looked down at her mother in the day’s light, her body still stiff under her touch.  Aunt stood at the foot of bed, tears flowing from her eyes, hitting Gwendoline’s ankles.  Laura heard movement at the door and saw Doctor James come into the room, he swiftly moved Aunt out the cottage and then approached the bed where Gwendoline and Laura lay.  He looked between Laura and Gwendoline, concern etched into his face.  Two men came into the room and began to remove Laura’s arms from Gwendoline’s waist.  Laura screamed an animalistic screech as she clawed back at her mother’s body, holding on tight.  They couldn’t take her; Laura wouldn’t allow them to take her away.

“Child, please we need to take her, she needs to be buried” Doctor James spoke gently.

“NO” Laura screamed again.

One of the men stepped forward in an attempt to unravel Laura from her mother’s body.  This time Laura reached out and scratched his face with her nails, leaving deep wounds on his cheek. He shrieked in pain and leaped back.