The Healing Season (28 page)

She met his gaze. “Yes. It happened when I first ran away from home. The manager of the traveling theatrical troupe who took me in and gave me work—” She looked past him, as if unable to endure his regard. “He fathered her. He must have seen some talent in me, because when I began to increase, he didn’t want to lose me. He could have abandoned me then, but instead he paid a couple from the troupe—the Thorntons—to take me in. They were tired of the life on the road and were ready to settle down so they agreed. I stayed with them just until Sarah was born, and then rejoined the troupe.

“I only got to hold Sarah a few days and give her suck—” her voice cracked, and Ian’s heart wrenched with pity “—before having to say goodbye to her.” She cleared her throat. “Louisa and Jacob have been good to her, and they’ve let me visit as often as I can. I was waiting until she was older to bring her to live with me.”

“And now?”

“Now?” She spread her hands wide in a shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can ever be a mother to her at this late stage, but perhaps I can live close by. I had such great plans for her,” she said with a sad smile. “Now,” she repeated, “who knows? God knows,” she ended with a calmer smile.

“Was that why you went with d’Alvergny?” he asked, wanting to know. It was the first time he’d named the duke in her presence.

She flushed and looked down at her hands again. “That was one of the reasons. I was waiting for the day to have enough money to bring Sarah to live with me. But don’t fool yourself. It wasn’t the only reason. I wanted a part at the Drury Lane. He promised it to me, and he kept his word.”

“Were those the only reasons?” What was he looking for? For her to admit that what d’Alvergny had said was true?

“The Lord has shown me how I also did it out of contempt for myself.”

Ian didn’t expect that answer, and he had to struggle to make sense of it.

“He has shown me it has been that way each time, although I never realized it until now. That is why I hated those men.” She dabbed at the corner of her eye with a fingertip. “The only time I thought I was in love,
with the gentleman who taught me the manners of a lady, it was a desperate kind of love. By the end, I probably hated him more than anything because I felt he’d taken everything from me and given me nothing of himself in return. I hated feeling helpless…and abandoned.” The last word was said almost in a whisper.

Ian felt sickened by the disclosure, not thinking anything could have disgusted him more than d’Alvergny’s words. Now he wiped a hand across his mouth, not sure he wanted to hear anything more. For her, this might be cathartic, but for him it was a torturous ordeal, showing him afresh how hopelessly wrong she would have been for him.

He remembered his uncle’s words.
It takes a strong man to resist the role of rescuer to a damsel in distress.
Was this what his uncle had meant? To resist would have saved him countless agonies, but had coming to her rescue been inevitable, requiring a much stronger man? Was he just as big a fool as every man who’d admired her?

Her next words surprised him, pulling him out of his hopeless questioning.

“You once asked me what my real name was.”

“Yes.”

“It was Maisey. Rather common, don’t you think?”

“No, it’s a pretty name,” he found himself saying almost automatically, still too stunned by everything else she’d told him to take it in.

“Maisey Moore. Not very elegant for a stage name.”

When he said nothing, she waited a bit. The silence hung between them awkwardly. She sighed. “Well, that is all I wanted to say. Goodbye, Ian.”

Before he could stop her, she had turned and left the room.

He let the hand he’d lifted drop back to his side. What was the point of detaining her? He’d already settled that she could never be the one for him.

Eleanor sat with Sarah in the farmhouse parlor. After Sarah’s delight in seeing her, Eleanor had taken her hand and told her she had something serious to talk about. She proceeded to tell her that she was her real mother.

Now she sat back, waiting for shock and accusation. Instead, Sarah’s face looked radiant, and she threw herself into Eleanor’s arms. Eleanor braced herself to keep from falling backward and returned the hug tightly.

“You mean you are my real mama? Oh, I always hoped it to be so! And now it is. I can scarcely believe it!”

“Are you sure you are not disappointed?” Eleanor asked, when they’d loosened their hold on each other. “All those years I told you such a lovely tale of your parents, and now the truth is your mother is only a simple actress on the stage—not a very good one at that—”

“Oh, no,” she breathed, still looking at Eleanor in
awe. “Not a simple actress. You are the most beautiful, the most wonderful person in the world.”

Eleanor could feel the tears welling up in her eyes again. “Oh, dear, no…I’m not that.” Her lips trembled so that she couldn’t continue speaking.

Sarah, as if sensing her mother’s uncertainty, took her two hands in hers and said, “I have always loved you above anyone else. Even more than Mama and Papa Thornton or my brothers and sisters.” She hesitated a moment. “Even more than those imaginary parents you told me about all those years.”

The tears were rolling down Eleanor’s cheeks, but she didn’t bother to wipe them. “Did you really? But you always seemed so eager to have me tell you the story about them.”

“I was. I loved hearing it. It was like a fairy story. But I still loved you best of all. You were real. You were here. Those people seemed so perfect, they couldn’t have been real.”

Eleanor fumbled in her pocket for her handkerchief and blew her nose and wiped her eyes. “You’re right. They were too perfect. That was my mistake, wasn’t it? I should have given them each a slight flaw. Perhaps a mole on your ‘mother’s’ cheek and crooked teeth for your ‘father.’” She smiled at Sarah through the tears welling up in her eyes once more.

Sarah laughed with glee. “Or a limp when he walked.
He could have been wounded in battle.” After they both laughed heartily, Sarah asked seriously, “Tell me—Mama.” She hesitated only a moment over the name. “Why did you make them up?”

“Because I wasn’t good enough for someone as perfect as you. I was only a lowborn actress. And what I told you just now is true. I wasn’t married. I couldn’t even give you a papa.”

“So I don’t have a papa? It’s not Papa Thornton after all?”

“No, my dear,” Eleanor said quietly. How could she explain to an innocent ten-year-old the truth? “Papa Thornton loves you as his real daughter.” She looked down at their hands. “Please don’t ask me about your real papa. Someday when you’re older I’ll tell you about him. I promise,” she whispered, too ashamed to look at her daughter.

“Oh, Mama, don’t be sad. You mustn’t be sad when you’ve just told me the most wonderful thing.” She squeezed Eleanor’s hand. “You are my mama. You don’t know how often I wished it so. Every time you spoke about how you and my make-believe mama were the best of friends and told each other everything, I would think afterward how true that was of the two of us. How could we not be related when we thought about the same things and liked the same things and told each other all sorts of things?

“Can I come and live with you now?” she asked eagerly. “Is that why you told me now?”

“Partially. I do want us to live together. I just don’t know where that will be at the moment. I was thinking perhaps of getting a little cottage out here and living near you…”

Sarah looked disappointed. “Oh, I was so hoping to come to London with you.” She brightened. “But if we live here, I will still be next to Papa and Mama Thornton.”

“We don’t have to decide this minute. We’ll talk with Papa and Mama Thornton and see what they think.”

Eleanor embraced Sarah once more, grateful to the Lord, who had restored her daughter to her after so many years.

She didn’t know what else she would do with her life, but she trusted the Lord would make a way for her to be with her daughter soon.

E
leanor knew it was time to get on with her life, although she didn’t yet understand which direction it would take. She’d already told Althea of her departure from the mission. Although Althea had expressed regret at her leaving, she promised to do all she could to help her. In the days following, Eleanor continued to help at the mission, finding peace in the simple rhythm of everyday chores.

“Hello, Eleanor,” Althea greeted her when she stopped by the small medical office to get some supplies.

“Hello.”

“I need your help.” Althea was standing in front of a table laden with medical bottles.

“Of course. What would you like?”

“I need to get some prescriptions from the apothe
cary. Ian usually brings them from his uncle’s but he won’t be in today, and I’m afraid we’re a bit shorthanded this morning.”

“Would you like me to fetch them?”

“Could you? His uncle’s apothecary is at St. Thomas’s.”

“I know where that is. I’ll go immediately.”

Eleanor found the herb garret easily enough, but when she entered, there was no one there but the young apprentice.

He recognized her right away and smiled broadly. “Mrs. Neville! What are you doing here?”

“I came to collect some prescriptions for the mission.”

Jem looked around. “Mr. Russell, Sr., didn’t tell me of anything that needed to be collected. Maybe Ian already took them.”

“That’s possible.”

“You could ask Mr. Russell himself. He’s in the herb garden just down the road a bit.”

Ian’s uncle. Suddenly Eleanor felt a curiosity to meet the man. It might be her only opportunity. She smiled at Jem. “Yes, I shall go there.”

“Would you like me to accompany you there?”

“No, that’s kind of you, but I think I prefer to find it on my own, if you’ll direct me. It’s a beautiful day to visit a garden.”

“That it is. Spring is finally making an appearance. Too bad I’m cooped up here.”

She smiled in understanding.

Eleanor followed the street to the building he’d indicated. When she stepped under the thick stone arch, she gasped in delight. Through it lay an oasis of green. The first tender shoots of grass lined the brick walk-ways. Rectangular beds of dirt were set out in rows down the length of the hidden courtyard. Bright clumps of yellow edged them where the first daffodils were opening up. Birds twittered in the bare branches of the trees.

She stepped through the arch and emerged into the sunny courtyard. As she walked past the beds, she saw a man bent over one of them with a garden fork. As she neared him, he turned. Shading his face with a hand, he watched her progress, as he rested against the fork.

“You must be Mr. Russell’s uncle,” she said, already feeling a welcome in the older man’s genial face.

“Yes, indeed. Oliver Russell, at your service. And who might you be?”

“Eleanor Neville.”

He smiled. “So you are Eleanor Neville.”

She blushed, thinking he was referring to the actress. She shrugged. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I don’t feel like Eleanor Neville these days.”

He chuckled. “Why is that?”

“She wasn’t a very nice person, you know,” she replied, wondering at how easily the words came out.

“Wasn’t she? Beyond redemption?”

“Yes. Thankfully, a new person has been resurrected in her place. I feel brand-new.” She looked down at the freshly turned earth. “But it means learning things all over again.”

“That could take some time.”

“Yes.” She sighed, returning to the reason she was there. “I’ve come to fetch some prescriptions Mr. Russell left for the children at the mission.”

“Ah yes. He already collected them. I’m sure he’ll drop them by the mission today.”

“Yes, I’m sure he will.” She would probably miss his visit. It was for the best, she told herself.

“Do you have a moment?”

She turned her attention back to Ian’s uncle. “Yes, why?”

“Why don’t you take a few minutes and sit in my garden? It is a place of discovery.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I believe I will. I shan’t disturb you in your labors, shall I?”

“No. I was about to return anyway. I must see what Jem is up to,” he said with a chuckle.

They bade each other goodbye and Eleanor turned
back to the garden. Here and there she discovered a clump of crocus or a border of daffodils.

Ian stepped into the quiet of his uncle’s garret.

“Hello, Ian, I wasn’t expecting you today,” his uncle greeted him from the worktable.

“No, I just left the ward. There was a surgery patient I needed to look in on.”

His uncle was pressing a medicinal dough onto the pill tile with a long, grooved rolling pin to make a fresh batch of pills. Ian breathed in the scent of eucalyptus.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve come. No, don’t sit down,” he said as Ian prepared to take a seat at one of the stools. Before Ian could inquire why, he explained, “I suggest you take a walk down to the herb garden.”

“Why ever for? Did you leave something behind?”

“No, but perhaps you did.” Before he could figure out the meaning of his uncle’s cryptic words, Uncle Oliver added, “There’s someone down there I think it worth your while to see. Leave your other cares for the moment and spend some time down in the garden.”

“I suppose you’re not going to tell me any more than that?”

“You suppose right. Now run along before you miss this individual.”

Ian retraced his steps down to the ground floor.
When he emerged in the street, he hesitated. Well, there was no harm in it, and he knew his uncle wouldn’t waste his time playing jokes on him. He turned in the opposite direction he’d come and walked toward the garden.

His first thoughts as he came through the arch into the sunshine was that the trip had been in vain, for there was no one there, then he squinted, seeing someone at the far end, partially obscured by a yew hedge.

Eleanor! What was she doing here?

Ian found himself walking toward her. She didn’t hear him approach, and as he neared he saw that she was kneeling in front of an outcropping of colorful lavender and yellow crocus.

She looked like a girl in prayer.

He had been praying the day she’d come into his office.
The significance hit him like a bolt from the sky.

Isaac beholding Rebekah. Ian’s asking God for a sign. Had that been it, and he’d missed it? Was Eleanor indeed the one?

He felt a sudden jubilation, just as quickly followed by a conviction of guilt. She leaned forward and broke off a flower stem and twirled it in her fingers.

Had he truly forgiven her?

She’d come to him in humility and what had he given her in return? In a split second he recognized his true nature, petty, unforgiving and arrogant. God had for
given Eleanor and washed away her past as surely as He’d healed Ian. Her sins had been put away from her as far as the east is from the west.

These thoughts crystallized in the few seconds Ian stood watching Eleanor in the sunshine. He must have made a sound because she turned and saw him. Her smile of greeting faded and he read uncertainty in her eyes. Is that what he made her feel? Uncertain? Unloved? Afraid?…the way every other man had? The knowledge pierced him.

He stepped toward her, unsure what he was going to say.

“What a beautiful spot your uncle has here. He invited me to stay a few moments,” she said, as if to excuse her presence there.

“Yes, it is a beautiful spot. Please feel free to stay as long as you’d like.”

She made to rise and he immediately came forward and held out his hand. As soon as she was standing, she let his hand go.

“There is a bench over there. Would you care to have a seat?” he asked diffidently.

She watched him the way a patient would who was awaiting a diagnosis. With a quick nod of her head, she accepted his suggestion and he led her to the bench.

“There is not too much sun for you?” he asked when they were seated side by side.

“No. It’s nice to see the sun and feel its warmth after the long winter.”

He nodded.

They sat for some minutes. Just as Ian was ready to speak, she began, and he fell silent, preferring to hear what she had to say.

“I shall be leaving the mission soon.”

His heart sank, but then he remembered she still lived in London. Her next words dashed those hopes.

“I am going to live with the Thorntons for a little while, until I can find a cottage nearby for Sarah and myself.”

“You and Sarah.”

“Yes.”

He watched her profile as they spoke. “What will you do?”

“I don’t know yet.” She gave a slight smile. “The Lord hasn’t revealed that much to me yet.”

“Will you resume your…acting career?”

“I don’t think so.”

He was stunned. “I thought it was so important to you.”

“It was.” She looked down at the crocus in her hand. “I believe if I ever appear in front of an audience again it will be in the Lord’s service, but that’s as much as I know.”

They sat a moment longer in silence, Ian wondering how he could say what was in his heart.

She turned to him slightly. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why haven’t you married Althea? Isn’t she everything you are looking for in a woman?”

The question startled him, and he struggled to find the answer. Her face was so close to his as she awaited his reply. He looked into her eyes and was caught anew by their amazing color, a gray so translucent it was like glass. The dark pinpoints of her pupils contrasted sharply, adding to the effect of light.

“She is such a worthy woman,” she added.

Her words gave him the opening he needed.

“She may be worthy, but I’m not in love with her.” He paused. “There is only one woman in the world for me.”

She swallowed. “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “What is she like?”

“She is so beautiful it makes my heart ache.”

Her lashes came over her eyes to hide them from his view. “What is the matter, then? Does she think she is too good for you?”

“No, on the contrary,” he replied slowly, “she has never known her true worth. But I am certainly not good enough for her and never will be.”

Her eyelids flew up and he could see the protest ready on her lips.

“I would never ask her to share the life I lead. I would never ask her to give up the recognition she’s gained over the years through her talent and determination and hard work on the stage.”

The look in her eyes told him she was beginning to understand that he was referring to her.

“Why haven’t
you
ever married, Eleanor?” he asked her softly.

“Because I never trusted men…until now,” she whispered.

“You had good reason not to.”

“But the Lord showed me there was one man who was trustworthy. He thinks he is a mere surgeon, but I’ve never met a truer man, or better friend, or…protector.”

“Oh, Eleanor,” he breathed, “I can offer you so little except my love.”

The smile began in her clear gray eyes and reached her lips. “How can you say that when we’ve been given wealth immeasurable?”

He leaned forward until her face blurred and he inhaled the freshness of her skin and finally felt the softness of her parted lips.

Some moments later, she giggled beneath his lips.

He opened his eyes. “What do you find so amusing about my kisses this time?”

“Your kisses are perfect,” she assured him with a
quick peck to prove the fact. “What I find funny is the fact that you’re going to make an honest woman of me.”

“No,” he replied seriously. “The Lord has already done that.”

She sobered, bringing up a hand to stroke his cheek. “So, what is left for you, then?”

He smiled. “To enjoy it.”

As her smile grew in response, he leaned toward her again. “I have, after all, a lot of time to make up for.”

Her laughter was smothered by his kiss.

A little later she pushed away from him again, a look of sadness on her face.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, his fingers framing her face.

“I’ll never make a good wife. I don’t know how to do anything housewifely. All those things like cooking, sewing, knitting…” Her voice grew mournful as the list grew longer.

He laughed. “I don’t expect to marry my housekeeper. I don’t need a servant, but a soul mate. I may be a poor surgeon compared to your manner of living, but I do have an adequate income, enough to pay for at least a servant or two.”

“Where shall we live?” she asked, snuggling against him as he put his arm around her, amazed at how right she felt beside him.

“Here in London or near the Thorntons if you’d like. Sarah will live with us, of course.” She squeezed his free hand in response.

“You remember that gentleman, Digsby, you dragged to the anatomy lecture?”

She giggled at the memory.

“He has become interested in my work after all. He’s offered to line up some backers to put up the money for a children’s hospital—the first of its kind here in London.”

She turned glowing eyes to him. “Oh, Ian, that’s wonderful.”

He looked deep into her eyes, whose goodness he could now trust. “I don’t expect to tell you what to do. God has given you a wonderful talent—to entertain people and make them laugh—even cry. I won’t dictate to you whether you should leave the theater or not.”

“Thank you, Ian. That means a great deal to me.” She traced the line of his jaw. “But I think the Lord has another course for me now. I want to join you in this new endeavor to help the children of London, if you’ll have me.”

“Nothing would make me happier.” He kissed the top of her head where her bonnet had fallen back. “May I call you Maisey?”

She smiled up at him. “You alone.”

“Will you be my Maisey? Can you really want to
marry me, Maisey mine?” he asked in a teasing voice, touching his nose to hers.

“I should like that above all, Ian, my love,” she answered shyly.

His lips met hers once more and he hugged her close to him, rejoicing in what a blessed man he was.

His future wife had been worth the wait.