Chapter 14

 

 

 

“Wake up!” Claudia cried. She shook Oliver once again. At least this time, he groaned. How much time had passed? He trembled all over. The fever was at its zenith. “Here, take more water.”

“Food first,” he croaked as he placed a box of matches in her hand. “Light the lamp to my left.”

Claudia slowly crawled toward the area he indicated, ensuring she didn’t knock it over. Feeling for the shade, she lifted it off, struck the match, and lit the wick. A dim light filled the area. Blinking, her eyes adjusting, she made her way to the trunk. “What food?”

“Oat biscuits. Dried beef. It is in the tins. Some cheese, too.”

Claudia found clothes in the trunk. Garments a laborer would wear. She could use them to travel to the police precinct. The seeds of a plan began to take root. But Oliver must be attended to first. Starving, her stomach growling loudly, she pulled the tins out of the trunk. 

“Can you sit up now, do you think?” she asked.

“No. Give me a piece of the dried beef, and I will chew on that. And some cheese.”

After seeing to Oliver, Claudia wasted no time in feeding herself. After sipping some water, she assisted Oliver in taking a drink. “Listen. I have to make a run for it. To get help.”

Oliver started coughing and pushed the bottle away. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

“At least let me peek to see if it is day or night.”

Reluctantly, he nodded.

Claudia quietly stepped toward the trap door. She hesitated, listening for any voices or movement above. There was none. After climbing the steps, she crouched down and gradually lifted the door. A beam of sunlight poured through a gap in the boarded-up windows and spread across the wood floor. It was hard to know if it was morning or afternoon, as she was not well-versed in the positions of the sun to tell time.

After lowering the door, she returned to Oliver. There was still food clasped in his hand. That is not a good sign. Taking advantage of the slight illumination, Claudia lifted the gauze and peered at his wound. It was angry-looking and slightly red. But there was no blood or pus. There’s a mercy. 

“Tell me about Danaher,” he asked, his voice husky. 

“I will if you eat some more. Here, have some cheese.” Claudia broke off a piece and held it to his lips.

“You strike a hard bargain.”

“Perhaps, but you must keep up your strength. Eat, Oliver.” He took the proffered cheese, and when he chewed and swallowed, she held the dried beef before him. “Eat a little, and I will continue my tale of woe. But why you wish to hear more of it, I do not understand.”

“As I said earlier, to know you better,” he replied gravely between bites. “To comprehend what makes you tick.”

His emotionally spoken words about wanting to explore every part of her, including her skin, still played over and over in her mind. Could he be fascinated by her alone, or was it because they were in a cramped hiding place, facing danger? Claudia would never forget what he said, for it touched her heart. But dredging up the past was playing havoc with her emotions.

“Make me tick? I am hardly a clock sitting on a mantel,” she sniffed.

“Nor would I wish you to be. Not all men wish to control and bully women. That is not your experience, but decent, honorable men are out there. Like William.”

Right. Not her experience was correct. Except for William, as he said. “And you are one?” Claudia asked softly.

“Yes, I believe I am. I know I am. But we all have flaws. No one is faultless.”

“That is an accurate statement.” Seeing that he had finished the beef, she gave him an oat biscuit. Claudia had come this far and might as well continue. “Danaher is definitely not an honorable man. My mother and I were down to our last few shillings. We heard there were abandoned row houses and lean-tos in Notting Dale that many squatters used. We headed there. Just our blasted luck, we chose one of the shacks Danaher had laid claim to. He and his men bustled in and told us to shove off. But then Jedi had a good look at my mother. Even beaten down by poverty, grief, and the beginnings of her illness, she was still beautiful.”

“Like you,” Oliver whispered.

Claudia blushed, and somewhere deep inside, she was pleased. So much for keeping her emotions guarded. Around Oliver Wollstonecraft, it became more difficult the longer she was with him. Face it, she was hiding nothing now. Her soul was laid bare. Regarding her mother, she had been much more attractive than Claudia could ever hope to be. Still, she appreciated Oliver’s comment and committed it to memory with all the other lovely things he had said.

“We had the same red hair, although hers was a shade darker than mine. My mother made a deal with Danaher. We could stay in the hovel, and he would pay her a flat weekly sum. My mother agreed to be available for his animal lust whenever the mood struck him. I was also part of the deal. I was to be left alone and protected from Danaher and anyone else. To our astonishment, he agreed to the terms.”

“And were you left alone?”

“Yes. Everyone knew we were under Danaher’s protection; they took a wide berth when I went to the market to buy food. Some of the grocers gave us free bread and the like. We existed—barely. It was no life at all. And because we lived in a shack, rain and wind often seeped in. And the cold. We had plenty of firewood, but it never helped with the permanent chill my mother had to endure.”

“What did she have, the illness you spoke of?”

“Consumption, or tuberculosis, whatever it is called now. And it slowly and insidiously consumed her. She hid her failing health as much as she could from Danaher. He was not all that observant at the best of times, at least as far as anyone in distress. For what did he care about? Nothing at all. Only his own comforts—or maybe not even that.”

“Watching your mother fade away must have been difficult,” Oliver said solemnly. 

“Oh, yes. My mother was my companion and friend. There were only sixteen years between us. About a week before she died, she took my hand and made me promise that as soon as she passed, I must escape Notting Dale before Danaher found out. My mother did not trust him to leave me alone. How could I abandon her in that awful shack? I had already gone to Whinstone, so there was no other option.”

Revealing this part of her life was more challenging than Claudia imagined. It stirred up complicated emotions long buried. Feelings she believed would never surface again. Guilt, grief, fear of the unknown. Resentment. And unwavering love and sacrifice. Mix that with her turbulent emotions toward Oliver, and she wondered if she could ever hide her feelings again. How disturbing.

“Wait,” Oliver said. “Whinstone became involved with your mother when she was sixteen?”

“The age of consent was thirteen at the time. It was raised to sixteen in ’85. Not that Whinstone cared about any of that. Yes, I know the laws regarding this. My mother made certain Danaher understood them as far as I was concerned.”

“Where were your mother’s parents in all this?”

“My mother never talked about her past much, though she revealed that her detestable father sold her to Whinstone in lieu of a debt. I thought such a loathsome act was illegal.”

“It has been—for many decades. But it is still done in secret. Your mother enduring such a fate fills me with rage. The injustice of it all.”

“Me as well. When my mother tried to locate her parents one afternoon shortly after her father handed her over to Whinstone, she discovered they had moved. No forwarding address.”

Oliver cursed under his breath.

“Why should this surprise you? Women are treated as possessions, as are children. Regardless of recent changes in the laws,” Claudia stated. “More needs to be done.”

“I shouldn’t be astonished, but it angers me, nonetheless. But this isn’t about me or my feelings on the matter. You and your mother deserved a better life. So does anyone in such circumstances. But nothing ever seems to change, regardless of a few good men in Parliament trying to eke out fair laws for all. It is disheartening. So, what happened to you after your mother passed away?” 

Swallowing hard, she dashed a tear from her cheek. “Leaving was the hardest thing I had ever done. My mother managed to save a few shillings. I used that to find my way to the East End. I have no idea what happened to my mother. I told the neighbor that she had died and to call the authorities. Mrs. Bridle was trustworthy enough. I watched as she headed toward the Lancaster Police Station, so I left.”

“We can discover where your mother is buried. Since ’37, all records have been kept by the state, not churches, as in the past. There will be an account of her death and burial.”

“I’ve never told anyone this,” Claudia whispered. “Thank you for not judging my past.”

“I would never do that, not for you or anyone.”

Oliver’s empathy comforted her. His words reverberated with emotion, giving her the courage to reveal her past and expose the never-healed wounds. “I have felt alone since her death.”

“It appears you are as lonely as I am.”

Claudia’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You? Lonely? You have a large and loving family, friends from your group, and probably more besides. You are not speaking sense. Your fever is starting to affect you, which is worrying.”

Oliver shook his head. “It is not my fever talking. Being alone is more of a physical state. Lonely is feeling alone in a crowd. My doctor friend told me that feeling that way is caused by a fear of intimacy. At least, that is one of the reasons. What he said gave me pause, for it describes me more than I realized. He also mentioned trauma, but that aspect doesn’t define me. Although it fits you, does it not? You have been dealing with trauma for much of your life.”

Blast the man for seeing inside her. Her lower lip trembled as she tried to hold back the intense emotions sweeping through her. Claudia took a shuddering breath.

Oliver held out his hand. “Come, let me hold you.”

Oh, how tempting. 

This susceptibility was blasted annoying, but on another level, sharing her past turned out to be cathartic. It felt like part of a crushing weight had been lifted from her. Against her better judgment, she crawled next to Oliver as if they were two spoons in a drawer. Claudia drew in another quivering breath, then exhaled.

“It is all right, Claudia. You can cry. Do not hold it in any longer. I have you. I will hold you close for as long as you wish. What little strength I have at the moment—is yours.”

And with those softly-spoken, compassionate words, Claudia let the tears come.