Just like today, at precisely one o’clock,Mary would flee Blackfriars via the kitchen entrance and steal her way up theback path in the direction of her home. Part way, when a screen of firstemporarily eclipsed the house, Mary would sneak through the orchard and intothe abbey ruins, where she would await him. Sometimes he came, sometimeshe could not get away without being seen and they had to wait another week tobe reunited.
Today, he was late and Mary was beginningto doubt that he was coming at all. She had been cowering in the wintryruins for more than twenty minutes, sitting on a cold chunk of sandstone thatlooked as though it had once been a window lintel, rubbing a shard of flintback and forth, rhythmically creating a short gully. She had wrapped upas much as she could but it was not sufficient to keep out the cold; she longedfor warmer days when intimacy did not mean having every part of her body frozento the bone. Last week, she had been so deeply chilled that it had takenalmost half an hour trembling in front of her bedroom fire for the painfulsurge of blood to return to her extremities, which had aroused Clara’ssuspicions. ‘Have you not got fires at home?’ she had asked, taking pityon Mary by donating blankets from her own bed to wrap around hershoulders. Mary had responded by saying that her father was still out ofwork and there the conversation had ended.
Mary recoiled with fright as someonejumped out from behind the ruins wall.
‘Mary!’ Edward called.
‘Oh, don’t do that!’ Mary said, laying ahand on her chest, as if to slow down the sudden change in her heart rhythm.
There he was, standing in full black andwhite livery, as handsome as ever. He had, by far, the most pleasingappearance among the male domestic staff.
Edward grinned. ‘Did you think Iwasn’t coming?’ he asked, huddling down beside her and placing his arm over hershoulder.
‘I’m just glad you made it,’ she said,pushing her body into his warmth.
Edward closed his eyes and pressed hislips to hers. Mary kept her eyes open, desiring that each of her sensesabsorb and soak him up. Finally, she opened her mouth and allowed theirshared passion to flow between them. Grappling exploring hands led, as italways did, to a fervent union.
Afterwards, Mary always regretted howquickly it was over, that no time could be allowed in a normal warm bed for thecloseness to continue. Maybe in the summer months they could takethemselves off to a secluded woodland where prying eyes and arctic temperaturescould not reach them.
Hurriedly, the pair dressed and returnedto the stone seat, where they sat like a pair of owlets huddled together forwarmth. Mary picked up the piece of sharp flint and returned toscratching at the sandstone, carving the letter M.
‘What are you going to write?’ Edwardasked. ‘Mary loves Edward?’
Mary giggled and nudged him playfully.
Edward held her hand and waited for her tolook up. He had a serious look on his face. ‘Do you…’ Edward began,his gaze falling to the floor. ‘How do you feel…what do you feel towardsme?’ He kicked at a small pebble. ‘Because… well…’
Mary laughed. ‘Well what?’ She knew,of course, the words which would not come. She felt it too, thatunmistakable fluttering and desire deep inside her that consumed more and moreof her thoughts.
Edward stood up, his back to her. Hepaced to the edge of the ruin and stared out. ‘I…’ he stammered. ‘Oh, God!’
‘Just say it, Edward!’ Mary pleaded.
‘Your sister’s walking down the path!’ heblurted, ducking behind the stone wall.
‘What?’ Mary said, jumping up and headingtowards him. ‘What’s Edie doing here?’
‘Get back!’ Edward said in a hushedwhisper. ‘It’s not Edie; it’s Caroline.’
Mary, body tucked behind the wall, stuckher head out just enough to see the unmistakable black figure striding down thepath towards the house. ‘What’s she doing here? She shouldbe at home in Bristol.’
‘I don’t know, but we’ll be rumbled if shereaches the kitchens and they find out you haven’t been going home. Quick, you need to catch her up and stop her before she gets to the house.’
Mary ran her fingers through her squallyhair, pecked Edward on the cheek and dashed from the ruins. Once she hadreached the path and was a safe distance from Edward, she called out. ‘Caroline! Caroline!’
Caroline stopped, just yards from thekitchen door and turned, placing her hands on her hips. Her husband,William had died a month ago and Caroline was still wearing full black mourningclothes. She waited until Mary was within earshot then demanded: ‘Wherehave you been?’
Typical Caroline, thought Mary, haven’t seen her inmonths and she storms down here like she owns the place. ‘For awalk,’ she answered. ‘What does it matter to you?’
Caroline seemed to have aged terriblysince Mary had last seen her. She had, in Mary’s quiet opinion, had themisfortune of inheriting their father’s fiery and unpredictable temperament andtheir mother’s haggard looks. ‘It matters to me because youhaven’t been home in weeks. Mother’s not well.’
‘What’s wrong with her?’ Mary asked,taking a furtive glance back at the abbey ruins. She could just make outEdward’s red hair poking from behind the wall as he tried to catch theirconversation.
‘Tuberculosis. The doctor sent herto the sanatorium last week. She’s not good, Mary,’ Caroline said. ‘The house is so cold it’s a wonder she hasn’t died already.’
Through the Victorian black veil coveringher face, Mary could just see into Caroline’s grey eyes; they had always seemedempty to her but now they appeared entirely devoid of life. ‘Will she beokay?’ Mary asked, realising then that she could have made more of an effort tomake amends at home. She chided herself for her weakness. Now hermother, her only ally at home, was unwell.
Caroline snorted. ‘If you reallycared, you would know the answer to that.’
Mary gritted her teeth, resenting hersister’s self-righteousness. ‘So what do you want?’
‘I want nothing,’ she saidhaughtily. ‘I need money. Money to keep the householdgoing. With mother away and father out of work we have nothing other thanyour wages.’
Mary had been saving all of her
