London, England - 1723
It wasn't so much his mother's screams that had terrified the boy as it was the abrupt silence. She had been screaming for hours, sending the household into a state of chaos.
It was quite unlike his mother to cause such a ruckus. She was a kind, gentle woman with eyes as blue as the sea and hair like a golden halo about her head. Like any young boy of six, he was quite smitten with her, thinking her an angel sent from God solely for his sake. She'd done little to discourage his youthful dedication, taking advantage of every opportunity to indulge him in any way she could. He would only be hers for so long, she had reasoned, before they sent him away to school and shattered his perfect innocence forever. Until then, she would let him cleave unto her, no matter what anyone else said. His father was away at sea more than he was home, and what harm was there in spoiling the boy just a little"
This was how his life had been until this past year, when his mother had become pregnant with her second child. It had not been an easy pregnancy, or at least, that was what he'd heard said among the servants and others who doted on his mother and managed the household in her stead from day to day; though when he'd asked, they'd always told him he was too young to understand and that God willing, everything would be fine. He wasn't quite sure what God had to do with it, but seeing as his mother was an angel, he had no choice but to believe them and hope for the best.
To hear her screaming in pain was more than he could bear, and he cursed God and the demon that had grown inside her for causing her such pain, never knowing his own birth had not been an easy one either. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he'd been born at all, and this second child was proving far more difficult than the first. The doctors had advised her against having another child, but she had left it in the hands of God and her husband to decide the matter for her. It was not such an easy thing to deny a man the rights he had acquired in marriage, and one of those was the right to a family that consisted of more than just one child. And yet, it seemed all her prayers were in vain, as proved by the sudden and unnatural silence that had descended on the house in the last minutes of childbirth.
Though he had been warned to stay away, he could not help himself, drawn to the room where his mother had been taken and where he had been forbidden to go, where everything was chaos, it seemed, despite his mother's silence.
"James!" a familiar woman's voice called his name, grabbing him about the arm and dragging him away from the door. "Go to your room and wait until you are summoned, like a good lad."
"But Mama ..." he argued, gesturing toward the door behind which his mother had labored, looking up into the face of the housekeeper, a woman he had known all his life and who was the closest thing he had to a grandmother.
"There's nothing you can do for her, my darling. You will only get in the way," she explained, but he did not seem to understand.
"But I heard her screaming and now she is quiet. Is it over?" he asked, blue eyes wide with mingled hope and fear.
The housekeeper said nothing, only glancing to the elderly man he recognized as the doctor. The look on her face was grave, and she looked a shade paler than usual, but the boy took little notice of it, more concerned with his mother than with the housekeeper's well being.
"Let the boy go, Hannah. He deserves to see her one last time," the man said, his voice sounding strangely ragged and weary.
The boy broke free, rushing past them both and into the room, but what he saw once inside nearly brought him to his knees. The doctor's words had not made much sense to him, but once he was past the threshold and facing the horror in front of him, he almost wished he had heeded the housekeeper's warning.
His mother was there, lying peaceful and pale upon the bed, tended as she was by servants, though there was little they could do now but make her as comfortable as possible. The sheets and blankets had turned an unnatural shade of crimson, and spying him there in the doorway, they threw a fresh blanket across the bed, as if to cover the spreading stain of death from his young eyes.
"Mama?" he queried, tears of grief rolling down his cheeks, his heart shattered in a million separate shards, like tiny daggers painfully piercing his chest. He dared to move closer, to take her dainty hand in his, cold and frail as it had become.
Her sea-blue eyes fluttered open weakly, a faint smile on her face as she heard the sound of her beloved son's voice calling her back from death. "James," she whispered, her voice so soft and quiet, he had to lean close to hear her. "My dearest little love. You will take care of your father for me, won't you? And your sister. You're such a good boy. Promise me you will, my darling," she pleaded, blue eyes swimming with tears.
"Yes, Mama, I will, but ....You will be well again, won't you? Please tell me you will. You cannot leave me like this. I cannot bear to go on without you," he pleaded in return, clinging to her hand, his heart breaking.
"You must, James. You must," she told him quietly, her heart fluttering, struggling for a few last moments with her beloved boy. "Always remember me, my darling. So long as you remember me, I will always be with you and I will always love you."
"No, Mama," he pleaded, throwing his arms around her and laying his head against her chest, only to hear her heartbeat growing slowly fainter while he wept. "Please don't leave me ....please. Whatever will I do without you?"
"She's gone, lad," the doctor said after a moment, laying a hand against his shoulder. "She's with the angels now, God rest her soul. You must be strong for her sake. You must make her proud."
The boy hardly heard him. What did any of that matter now? His whole world was shattered. He didn't care about being strong or about making her proud. He didn't care about making anyone proud. All he wanted was to have her back, but it was too late. She was never coming back, and he would never see her again.
He found out later that the sister she had begged him to care for was gone, too. She had taken her mother's life and dragged her off to heaven prematurely, and for that, he would never forgive her. It wasn't until he was older that he understood it hadn't been her fault - it hadn't been anyone's fault. Still, his father should have been more careful. If it wasn't for him, none of it would have happened. That, too, was something he didn't understand until he was older, and it had caused a rift between father and son that could never be repaired ...
It was quite unlike his mother to cause such a ruckus. She was a kind, gentle woman with eyes as blue as the sea and hair like a golden halo about her head. Like any young boy of six, he was quite smitten with her, thinking her an angel sent from God solely for his sake. She'd done little to discourage his youthful dedication, taking advantage of every opportunity to indulge him in any way she could. He would only be hers for so long, she had reasoned, before they sent him away to school and shattered his perfect innocence forever. Until then, she would let him cleave unto her, no matter what anyone else said. His father was away at sea more than he was home, and what harm was there in spoiling the boy just a little"
This was how his life had been until this past year, when his mother had become pregnant with her second child. It had not been an easy pregnancy, or at least, that was what he'd heard said among the servants and others who doted on his mother and managed the household in her stead from day to day; though when he'd asked, they'd always told him he was too young to understand and that God willing, everything would be fine. He wasn't quite sure what God had to do with it, but seeing as his mother was an angel, he had no choice but to believe them and hope for the best.
To hear her screaming in pain was more than he could bear, and he cursed God and the demon that had grown inside her for causing her such pain, never knowing his own birth had not been an easy one either. It had been nothing short of a miracle that he'd been born at all, and this second child was proving far more difficult than the first. The doctors had advised her against having another child, but she had left it in the hands of God and her husband to decide the matter for her. It was not such an easy thing to deny a man the rights he had acquired in marriage, and one of those was the right to a family that consisted of more than just one child. And yet, it seemed all her prayers were in vain, as proved by the sudden and unnatural silence that had descended on the house in the last minutes of childbirth.
Though he had been warned to stay away, he could not help himself, drawn to the room where his mother had been taken and where he had been forbidden to go, where everything was chaos, it seemed, despite his mother's silence.
"James!" a familiar woman's voice called his name, grabbing him about the arm and dragging him away from the door. "Go to your room and wait until you are summoned, like a good lad."
"But Mama ..." he argued, gesturing toward the door behind which his mother had labored, looking up into the face of the housekeeper, a woman he had known all his life and who was the closest thing he had to a grandmother.
"There's nothing you can do for her, my darling. You will only get in the way," she explained, but he did not seem to understand.
"But I heard her screaming and now she is quiet. Is it over?" he asked, blue eyes wide with mingled hope and fear.
The housekeeper said nothing, only glancing to the elderly man he recognized as the doctor. The look on her face was grave, and she looked a shade paler than usual, but the boy took little notice of it, more concerned with his mother than with the housekeeper's well being.
"Let the boy go, Hannah. He deserves to see her one last time," the man said, his voice sounding strangely ragged and weary.
The boy broke free, rushing past them both and into the room, but what he saw once inside nearly brought him to his knees. The doctor's words had not made much sense to him, but once he was past the threshold and facing the horror in front of him, he almost wished he had heeded the housekeeper's warning.
His mother was there, lying peaceful and pale upon the bed, tended as she was by servants, though there was little they could do now but make her as comfortable as possible. The sheets and blankets had turned an unnatural shade of crimson, and spying him there in the doorway, they threw a fresh blanket across the bed, as if to cover the spreading stain of death from his young eyes.
"Mama?" he queried, tears of grief rolling down his cheeks, his heart shattered in a million separate shards, like tiny daggers painfully piercing his chest. He dared to move closer, to take her dainty hand in his, cold and frail as it had become.
Her sea-blue eyes fluttered open weakly, a faint smile on her face as she heard the sound of her beloved son's voice calling her back from death. "James," she whispered, her voice so soft and quiet, he had to lean close to hear her. "My dearest little love. You will take care of your father for me, won't you? And your sister. You're such a good boy. Promise me you will, my darling," she pleaded, blue eyes swimming with tears.
"Yes, Mama, I will, but ....You will be well again, won't you? Please tell me you will. You cannot leave me like this. I cannot bear to go on without you," he pleaded in return, clinging to her hand, his heart breaking.
"You must, James. You must," she told him quietly, her heart fluttering, struggling for a few last moments with her beloved boy. "Always remember me, my darling. So long as you remember me, I will always be with you and I will always love you."
"No, Mama," he pleaded, throwing his arms around her and laying his head against her chest, only to hear her heartbeat growing slowly fainter while he wept. "Please don't leave me ....please. Whatever will I do without you?"
"She's gone, lad," the doctor said after a moment, laying a hand against his shoulder. "She's with the angels now, God rest her soul. You must be strong for her sake. You must make her proud."
The boy hardly heard him. What did any of that matter now? His whole world was shattered. He didn't care about being strong or about making her proud. He didn't care about making anyone proud. All he wanted was to have her back, but it was too late. She was never coming back, and he would never see her again.
He found out later that the sister she had begged him to care for was gone, too. She had taken her mother's life and dragged her off to heaven prematurely, and for that, he would never forgive her. It wasn't until he was older that he understood it hadn't been her fault - it hadn't been anyone's fault. Still, his father should have been more careful. If it wasn't for him, none of it would have happened. That, too, was something he didn't understand until he was older, and it had caused a rift between father and son that could never be repaired ...