“We were told you had died,” Mr. Finch admitted. “That’s what the abbey said when he came to us.”
“It took him two years to believe it,” Mrs. Finch added. “But in the end, he did because he was so certain you would never have abandoned him.”
“He was right.” Peggy sniffled as she wiped a rogue tear from her cheek. “I never would have.”
“We had no idea,” Mr. Finch promised. “And then… he was doing so well, so happy, that when we found out you were alive, we hadn’t known how to break it to him.”
“You knew?” Peggy’s voice quivered with emotion. Of course, they knew. Hadn’t Mrs. Finch greeted her without an ounce of surprise? Almost as if she had been expected.
Mrs. Finch nodded to her husband, who turned and took a box down off the highest shelf. One which none of the children could reach. From within he pulled out a letter, a single page, and handed it to Peggy.
“The abbess wrote to us after having been contacted by your solicitor,” Mrs. Finch explained while Peggy read the contents that confirmed her words exactly. “She said that they had been mistaken in your demise and that now that things had been set to rights, we ought to expect a visit, but she wasn’t sure when, if even, you would wish to claim your son.”
Peggy opened her mouth to speak but could not manage to get the words out. Not claim her own son?
“The abbess also confirmed your parentage and sent the church records of the child’s birth.” Mr. Finch, stoic though he seemed, was having trouble keeping his eyes in one place. The man was at a loss. It seemed they all were.
“She said you were a good mother,” Mrs. Finch added, tears flowing freely now. “And that you had been working very hard to provide a good life for him. That you suffered a terrible tragedy that kept you away, whatever it was. The letter was not very specific.”
At the woman’s loss of composure, Peggy lost her own. Her body was wracked with sobs, and tears streamed down her cheeks and dotted the paper that she held in her hand. It was a kindness unlike anything she had ever experienced that the abbess had done for her, and she was grateful that her son was cared for—but he was her son. And the Finches had let him think she was dead. Her beleaguered mind latched onto that thought. How could they!?
She stared for a long while, trying to make sense of what they were telling her and what her son had screamed at her only moments before. “But you still let him think that I was dead?” she asked, looking up at them and praying for a valid explanation.
“He had been doing so well,” Mrs. Finch sniffed. “He was finally happy and seemed settled. He no longer cried for you at night. I’m sorry.” She dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her apron. “I’m so very sorry. I just didn’t want to hurt him if you did not come.”
“We did not know for sure that you would come,” Mr. Finch explained when it seemed that his wife could not. “The abbess only said that you might. It seemed unfair to give him hope and to have him go through all of that again, or worse, if you did not appear. And we love him. We wanted to protect him. Then, the months went by and you hadn’t come. We could not bear the thought of him staring at the road waiting every day. We did not want him to hope only to suffer loss once more. He is so young, and it seemed he had already lost so much.”
“We did consider telling him,” Mrs. Finch finally broke back in. “But we never seemed to find the right time.”
“It took me… a long time to get here,” Peggy said when she finally allowed herself to admit that these people had done right by her son, that they had protected him in the same way she would have done herself if the roles had been reversed. “Not because I wished to delay seeing him. It was my sole purpose.” Then, deciding that these were good people. That for once in her life she knew beyond a doubt that someone could be trusted, she decided to jump all the way in. No secrets. “I was too frightened to take the mail coach. I was…” She swallowed, “I was abducted from one and held against my will in servitude, unable to even step foot out of doors—for four years.”
Mrs. Finch gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.
“Child,” the woman crooned, reaching out as if to rub Peggy’s hair, as she had only moments before in the effort to comfort Adam. But she withdrew it before contact, catching herself in the gesture that might not be welcome.
In reply, Peggy reached forward and squeezed her hand, offering a tight smile that revealed her gratitude for the understanding.
“So, I did not want to be confined in a coach. I came the slow way with the peddlers. Town to town. Riding on horseback or in an open wagon. The trip also gave me time to prepare myself, to think about the life I hoped to provide and to choose a place that I thought would make a fresh start for both of us.” She released the woman’s hand and raised both of hers in a shrug. “To heal in a way. To be sure that I could come to Adam whole and without my burdens. Or as much as I can ever be.”
“I can understand that.” Mrs. Finch nodded.
“So, I understand now why you did not tell him,” Peggy continued. “And as much as this has not gone how I expected, I am grateful that he did not spend those months waiting each day only to be disappointed each day I did not arrive. I can never fully express how thankful I truly am for how much you have cared for him and watched over him. He seems… happy.”
“Thank you for saying that.” Mr. Finch offered a pursed smile. “Ellie’s been worrying over it since we got the letter and certainly would have continued to do so if you hadn’t been so understanding.”
“But you said you’ve already chosen another town?” Mrs. Finch cut in, as if her mind had been locked further back in the conversation and she had not heard anything at all since Peggy had mentioned choosing a place to start afresh.
“I have,” Peggy confirmed.
“Is it far?” Mr. Finch asked.
“It’s… not close,” Peggy revealed with a grimace.
“When do you plan to leave?” he continued in his low tones.
“Tomorrow next,” she said. “With those with whom I arrived.”
“Well, couldn’t you stay about this town?” Mrs. Finch asked, a pleading in her eyes. “At least until Adam comes to terms with it all? So we can be close. Just for a little while?” Peggy could see that the woman was begging as much for herself as for Adam. The thought of losing the boy, even though she knew she must, was crushing the gamekeeper’s wife. If Peggy had to guess, though her husband was harder to read, he was on unsteady legs as well.
Peggy considered it. The thought would shatter everything that she had planned, and worse, if she lived in the inn for the unknown duration, it would make a substantial dent in her purse. She had wanted to put that money into an investment, a farm of some sort perhaps, so that the money would grow. If she wanted to make a real name for herself, she supposed, she could offer up her services as a laundress, but the thought still bristled. She could not afford to wait around Riversbend for months on end. Not without income.
Then, she recalled Adam’s threat to run away. He was just young and tempestuous enough to do it. The shock had been too sudden and too great. Having heard from Martha’s eavesdropping and not from the cautious approaches of the adults, he had been given the news in the most shocking manner possible. As much as she hated to admit it, the Finches were right. He needed time.
“I don’t suppose that I have a choice.” She breathed a dramatic sigh. “We cannot have him running off, and I certainly do not want him to resent me for ripping him away without warning.”
Mrs. Finch clapped her hands together with relief.
“You might like it here for good,” she offered.
Peggy shook her head, wanting to squash that fantasy before it took root. “No. I will delay my plan but not alter it.”
“Just consider,” Mrs. Finch pleaded. “Then, maybe we can still see him even after… you know. And he could still see Jemmy and Martha and his friends.”
It all sounded like a good solution in theory, Peggy noted. But in reality, she was worried that the constant reminder of the Finches would make it difficult for Adam to fully bond with Peggy as a family of their own. This was their home. Their village. And she was an interloper. No. She could not see how staying in this place would work. She could remain only while he adjusted to the idea of her being alive and not having abandoned him, but she would not do so forever.
“I cannot chance giving him false hope,” she said after a time. “I will make some arrangements for the time being, but they will only be temporary. Beyond that, I make no promises.”
“That’s fair,” Mr. Finch said when his wife opened her mouth to attempt what was likely about to be another effort at convincing. “We won’t start with any promises. Now, what do we do?”
Though it crushed Peggy to agree to it, over the next half hour, she and Finches decided that the best course of action would be to allow Adam to remain in the cottage where he was comfortable for the time being. They would give him a few days to calm down and then, when he was ready, Mrs. Finch would bring him to town to meet with Peggy and hear her side of the story, so much as a young boy ought to know. Then, they would work on regular exposure and the development of the relationship between mother and child. They had agreed that no word of Peggy and Adam’s true relationship would be shared beyond the Finch family and herself. They did not wish for Adam to have to navigate the awkwardness of questions, rumors, and gossip in what was sure to be any already trying time.
Peggy was so grateful to the Finches that they were willing to work with her through the process. Though she could see that it would be difficult for the couple, they wanted to ensure that the transition was as painless for the boy as possible. All were in agreement on that. In truth, it was more than they were required to permit considering that the convent had signed the boy over to their care. Peggy had hoped for a clean break but could have found herself embroiled in a vicious battle. Instead, she found herself somewhere in the middle. She could only hope that it would all turn out for the best.
When Jemmy had finally managed to coax Adam back to the property, and Martha had been sent firmly to her room to await punishment for her misdeeds, Adam refused to come anywhere near Peggy. She did note, however, that he stared at her with a furrowed brow from afar. Perhaps, she hoped, he was trying to align the woman who stood before him with the one that he remembered. She might have done better to arrive in something like the plain grey shifts that had been provided by the abbey all those years ago. It had not even occurred to her that, though she had spent her early years in finery such as she wore today, he had never seen her in anything but the most basic and modest of attire.
After a quiet word of instruction to his eldest adoptive son about the situation, Mr. Finch instructed Jemmy to drive Peggy back to the inn while he and Mrs. Finch had a word with Adam and then Martha. The young girl seemed truly contrite, not having realized how her actions would be received. The young man handed Peggy up into the ancient but sturdy wagon and then hopped in beside her before flicking the reigns.
“So, you’re Adam’s mum?” the young man asked after a long leg of uncomfortable silence.
“I am,” she said without taking her gaze from the road ahead.
“You know he’s still my brother, right?” Jemmy declared, turning to look at her with resolve.
Peggy turned to meet his eyes and held his firm gaze. “I know.” She nodded. For she did. She might be Adam’s blood, but these people had become his family too. She could never deny that, and taking him from it would be one of the hardest things she would ever do. Maybe they could arrange a visit once a year or so, she considered. Perhaps that would be enough. Though, she suspected that while Martha might come to accept the change in time, Jemmy at least would never forgive the removal of his dearest companion.
“All right.” He nodded in return. “So long as that’s clear.”
She would never be able to erase the boy from her son’s mind. He would make a point of remaining in Adam’s life, if only in a peripheral sense. He would be more than a memory; the determination was as clear as the summer sun. The awkwardness eased from the ride now that Peggy had accepted Jemmy’s terms. She was glad of it, for she was not sure how much he was aware, but if this young man had set his mind against her, he could easily sway her own son to hold a grudge.
“How are you going to explain why you are remaining in town?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “I mean, you came in with the gypsies, right? Won’t everyone expect you to leave with them? People will talk.”
“Yes,” she released a long breath in agreement. “They will. I suppose I have a little over a day to figure that out.”
“You’re pretty,” he observed with a matter-of-fact shrug. “I’m sixteen. If you say you’re in town because you’re madly in love with me then maybe Marie Harper will get jealous and finally let me kiss her.”
Peggy laughed outright. “I don’t think that would suit.” She chuckled. “I’m a bit over-ripe for your pickings.”
Again, he shrugged. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”
Peggy smiled at his audacious suggestion, and even for the suggestion that he was a man, but she had to give him credit for trying to earn his rakish reputation with a ploy rather than real misbehavior. She was grateful for his teasing and the way that it lightened her mood on the way into town. Today had been difficult. She had a lot to think about and a lot to worry about. But with Jemmy making light of the situation, it gave her a small glimmer of hope that, one day, she could laugh with her own son in much the same way.
One day soon, she prayed.