Mary walked back to her rooms and closed the door behind her. She had watched the coach until it had disappeared from sight, crushed by the knowledge that it would be the last time she would ever see Hugh leave the cramped but homely rooms at St John’s College, which she and her father had always called home.
She wiped a tear away, gritting her teeth to force back any others that may have threatened. Crying would not change her circumstances, and she knew from many bitter, lonely nights that it would not bring her father back. She was now on her own in the world.
She had cleaned the main room from top to bottom over the past few days, intending that the new tenant should have a fresh start when they arrived early in the new year. Never would she have it said that the rooms had been left in anything but workable condition. Her father’s valuable papers and books she would entrust to the next head of theology and divinity. His clothes had been gratefully received by the head grounds keeper who promised to find each item a suitable new home.
In her tiny bedroom, she squeezed between the wall and her single bed. The linen was freshly laundered, and the mattress had been hung out in the late afternoon sun the previous day to air. On top of the small nightstand was a travel bag, and next to it, her long red wool coat.
Picking up the coat, she put it on and buttoned it all the way to the neck. The first snow had fallen in the previous week, and the air outside was icy.
Travel bag in hand, she stepped out of her bedroom before glancing back one last time. She would never sleep in this room again. It was another final goodbye.
“Come on, Mary. If you keep this up, you will be here all day. You cannot say farewell to every single room and object,” she muttered.
She indulged in one final tour of the apartment. She had cleaned her father’s study earlier in the week, and shed a million tears as she did so, grateful that Hugh had been too busy to visit that day.
Hugh.
He had been her father’s star pupil. A man destined for greatness in the Church of England, perhaps someday even becoming the Archbishop of Canterbury. With the Duke of Strathmore as his older brother, Hugh Radley had enough connections and talent to make that a reality.
Mary set her bag down and then collected the empty cups and plates from where her visitors had left them, taking them over to the washbowl near the fire. After washing and drying them, she carefully placed them on a nearby shelf.
For some inexplicable reason she left Hugh’s cup for last. She washed it in the warm soapy water, and then held it. She pretended to herself that it was still warm from when Hugh had last touched it. She raised it to her lips and kissed the cup where she knew his lips had been.
So close, yet so far away.
It was a simple coffee cup with a red, gold, and blue mosaic pattern on white china. It was a one-of-a-kind in her home. Nearly every day for the past two and a half years she had made Hugh a cup of coffee in it and brought it to him as he studied late into the night.
Mary chuckled softly. Hugh liked his coffee thick and mud-like. No sugar, and just a dash of milk. The cup would sit untouched for hours while Hugh and her father engaged in long philosophical discussions, often only being finally drained when the coffee had long gone cold.
Opening her bag, she pulled out a woolen scarf and wrapped it around the cup. She would keep it as a memento of all those wonderful days.
When Hugh returned to Cambridge after Christmas, she would meet him somewhere else in the town and patiently wait for him to tell her of his exciting plans for the future. She would share the news of her own changed circumstances as a mere afterthought, something to be noted and then never mentioned again.
She carefully placed the cup into her bag. Then with one final tearful look, she bid farewell to the only home she had ever known. “Time to go, Mary Gray. Time to put the past behind you.”
She closed the door of the rooms for the last time and locked it. After returning the key to the groundkeeper’s office, she crossed over the cloisters and headed toward the main entrance of St John’s College. It took all her willpower not to look back, not to cry.
Thank God Hugh was not there to see her leave.