“Mother, if the Plague is afoot in Eyam, then it’s not safe here. For any of us! We all should leave. We should all go to Chesterfield.”
Alice turned to Henry.
“Son, I understand your fear, but we are safe here on the farm. Yes, Plague is afoot in the village proper, but on the farm we are isolated. We have practically everything we need stored in the cellar and the barn. Your mother and I have a plan. We are going to wait out the scourge. Let it run its course in the village through the winter. Come spring, we will reassess. Until then, no one in this family leaves the farm. Nobody goes into town. Alice is going to teach the children their school lessons at home. You and Kathryn are welcome to stay here through the winter. In fact, your mother and I welcome you to move back permanently. But if you decide to live here, then you will live under the house rules. That includes you too, Kathryn.”
“We’re not trying to be harsh. It is for everyone’s protection,” Alice added.
Paul looked back and forth between his parents apprehensively, probing for any signs of insincerity or false hope in their faces. He found none. Still, his gut told him that he and Kathryn should return to Chesterfield, back to his uncle’s house, where they had lodged the past three months. He would need to discuss the matter with Kathryn, in private.
Kathryn slumped in her chair. She had dark circles under her eyes and her skin was pale. “Mrs. Foster, you have been so kind welcoming me into your home, thank you. And thank you for telling me the story of my father’s final hours. The emotions of the day are weighing heavily on me — I mean no offense — but I would like to be alone.”
Paul escorted Kathryn to his old bedroom and returned sullen, five minutes later. Alice walked over to her son, threw her arms around him, and did not let go for a very long time.
CHAPTER 6
Kathryn sat, huddled in a corner, shivering on a bed of straw. The tattered wool blanket wrapped around her did little to stave off the moist, bitter chill in the air. It was winter in Eyam, and the Foster barn where she was exiled was not heated. Gaps in the siding boards, shutters, and doors were exploited by the wind; drafty gusts nibbled incessantly at the tiny aura of heat her body was able to generate. If Paul did not return in five minutes’ time, she was resigned to huddle with the sheep. Oh, what she would give to be a sheep right now. They may be stupid, dirty creatures she thought, but at least they were warm in their fleeces.
She sneezed and wiped her nose on the corner of the blanket. She cursed the sneeze, and then she cursed Henry Foster. Yes, she had violated the house rules, but she felt no remorse for having done so. If time were somehow magically turned back, she would do it again. She opened the flap of her leather-bound diary, pulled out her father’s letter, and read it for the third time that morning. It had not been her intention to see Rector Mompesson; she hadn’t even known about the letter when she set out. Her only intention had been to visit Papa’s grave and pay her final respects. Plague or no Plague, was that not a daughter’s right?
She had needled Paul for hours until finally he relented and let her take the grey mare. Yes, she had broken the house rules by going into town, but it had not been her intention to interact with anyone. Her mission had been simple. Ride straight to her father’s grave, make her peace, and return directly to the farm. Of course, for her plan to have worked, the graveyard needed to be deserted. It had not been.
She replayed the previous day’s events in her mind:
Rector Mompesson spied her immediately when she arrived on the Foster’s grey mare. He was giving his daily blessings in the graveyard for the souls claimed by the Black Death thus far. He smiled at her and walked over to her father’s grave. She sat frozen in the saddle for a long moment, debating what to do. She was afraid to speak with Rector Mompesson, afraid of what he might say about her father. Afraid that his words might tear open the wound in her heart that had just stopped bleeding. For what seemed like an eternity, she ignored his repeated gestures for her to “come hither.” But Mompesson was unrelenting, and eventually she broke.
He maintained his distance from her, keenly sensing that his close proximity made her bristle. He greeted her, told her she looked well, and congratulated her on her marriage to Paul. She smiled nervously, and asked him to say a blessing for her father. He obliged, and to her surprise, his blessing moved her. She told him so, and the next thing she realized she was seated at the Mompesson family dining table with the rector and his wife. A well-stoked fire blazed in the corner and Mrs. Mompesson poured her a cup of hot tea. She sipped the tea, and took note that the warmth in her belly was the coziest feeling she’d had in long time. They exchanged pleasantries for several minutes, and then Rector Mompesson excused himself from the table. He returned a moment later with a wax-sealed letter in hand.
“Your father made me promise to give you this letter when you returned to Eyam. I have not opened it.” Mompesson slid the letter across the table to her. “Now my promise is fulfilled.”
She looked hesitantly at the rector and then at his wife.
“Kathryn, dear, the letter is meant for you. We have no expectation that you open it now, nor that you share your father’s words with us. Read the letter when the time is right for you,” Mrs. Mompesson said.
She nodded and tucked the letter away in her pocket. She finished her tea, thanked the rector and his wife, and excused herself. The couple bid her farewell, and Mompesson asked her to pass on kind regards to Henry and Alice Foster. She said that she would and took the dirt road back to the Foster farm. During the journey home, it began to rain. The temperature was above the freezing mark, but barely. By the time she arrived at the farm, she was soaked through and through, and nearly hypothermic. Paul spied her from the window, rushed to her aid, and carried her inside. Her skin was grey and her lips and nail beds a deep shade of purple. Alice promptly stripped off all her wet clothes, wrapped her head to toe in dry blankets, and ushered her fireside. It took twenty minutes before she stopped shivering. Across the room, Henry Foster hovered. Pacing. He waited until she was properly dressed and then he launched into his interrogation. Where had she gone? Who went with her? Who had she spoken to? Why had she broken the rules? She answered each of his questions truthfully. Both Paul and Alice took her side, balancing the feud. Henry’s anger eventually waned, and he said nothing more … that is until she sneezed right in the middle of the family supper.
Henry erupted in a fury the likes of which the Foster clan had never witnessed before. Kathryn melted and burst into tears. Paul shrunk in his seat, cowed. Even the normally sharp-tongued Alice retreated in silence. Henry ordered her to the barn, where she would be forced to stay until it was known whether she was infected with the Plague or not. Obediently, she and Paul moved to the barn. They slept that first night together in one of the empty stalls, Paul spooning her to keep her from going hypothermic again. Upon waking, Paul launched into a tirade about the injustice of his father’s punishment and marched off toward the house to argue for her exile to be rescinded.