A Light in the Darkness- Chapter Two

The next days were a blur. All I thought of was Andre. My love has betrayed me. I had had nothing with him- and now I had nothing without him. My mind traveled back in time saying “I wish” and “If only”. Everything had been wonderful before last night, and then had been ruined. Why didn’t I just pretend I had seen nothing? Then life could be as it had been before- full of rosy dreams. Or why did I not at least react more kindly. Surely our relationship could have been saved. He surely meant it when he had promised me and told me he loved me…
And the answers came to me. It would not have been right to pretend like I had seen nothing. Our relationship would still be ruined whether I brought his misdemeanor to light or not. We had never had a relationship for that matter. He had just used me.; he was a player of the worst kind. Really he was not fit for me and I should be glad to be rid of him… So my thoughts spun round and round, blaming myself, blaming him. I was torn between anger and love.
In the end the latter won out; it was myself I chastised. I had loved him and could not bring myself to believe he had not cared for me with some good intentions as well.. I hated myself for ending our romance forever. Andre… why could things be for us as I thought they were?
But in no way had the rest of my life come to a halt. My duties had me as exhausted and ragged as ever, Miss Mathews took the same pleasure in tormenting me; I was just numb to those facts.
One afternoon I accompanied her on a skating outing on the ice of the frozen Hudson River. The day was truly glorious and merry, the winds calm and sun warm. The snow sparkled brilliantly, as if set with a thousand tiny jewels. But my grief was so great I was oblivious to all this as the sleigh slid through the streets. I heeded nothing in the world outside my mind until Miss. Mathews sounded my name.
“Hope, you agree do you not?”
Knowing not the least of which they were speaking, I merely answered with a vague, “Indeed.” As I looked up I saw with astonishment that in the sleigh seated across from me was the rude young man I had seen twice on my last afternoon off. He watched me, skeptically, his gaze unyielding.
“We ladies are agreed, then, that one of the finer forms of music is that of a man composing a love song for his lady,” Annabelle said to him, exhibiting her characteristic flirtatiousness, “What say you, Wilson?”
He is Wilson!? This second cousin of the Wilcox’s and the man on the street are then one and the same.
“I suppose,” he said absently, “that it has its place and time.” The afternoon proceeded much in that matter, I noticed as I watched from the sleigh. Annabelle made flamboyant and indecent attempts for Wilson de Blays’ attention; he remained polite and reserved. Her disappointment was clear; she even pouted flirtatiously. Perhaps five years older than me, undeniably handsome, with impossibly green eyes and dark longish curly hair, well built and tall of stature, Wilson would be a fine prize for her.
My observations, however, were secondary to my sadness and pain over Andre. He had raised my hopes so high, for naught. He had never loved me and I loved him even now. I would never be able to love again. All I had had been used up, cried out.
My feelings were interrupted by Mr. de Blays boarding the sledge, Miss. Mathews trailing behind. His gaze was now disdainful and judgmental. He has no reason to act like this. I shot a defiant look back. In a low voice he said, “You’d better watch yourself, Hope; I know what you’re doing.” Confused and angered, I turned away, feeling totally alone in the cold dark world.

I ran through the heart of New York City, past eating houses and shops, whose atmosphere was still infectiously cheery despite the fire and all the soldiers crowding them for so long. The proud soldiers and busy pedestrians alike looked strangely on a young woman flying through the streets, but I ignored them. I needed Elise. I couldn’t keep these terrible emotions to myself any longer.
By the time I reached the mansion I was out of breath, but did not stop to catch it and entered my usual way. Elise was in her chamber when I found her, at her writing desk. I spoke her name. At the sound of my voice she started, then turned to me with a look of grief and dread.
“Elise, what troubles you?” I ran to her and put my hand on her shoulder.
She had tears in her eyes- I could see she was trying not to let them into her voice. When she spoke it was very faint, nearly a whisper, “Hope, my friend. You know I will always love you.” I said nothing, just looked at her with worry. Why this now? “But Father has forbade you come to this house-we must not see each other.”
“Why is this? What have I done?”
She hesitated and for a moment I thought she might not say anything, but then she said, “I do not quite understand why, and what I do I have sworn to secrecy for, but be assured it is nothing you have done. It is the young man residing at your master’s house, Sir Wilson de Blays.”
Surprise, understanding, frustration, and anger washed over me within the space of a half second, “Him? Oh, he is worse than I expected!” What right has he?
“I am truly sorry. I’m grieving that our friendship must be suspended. And know, that I do trust you. But, I owe first my duty as a daughter.. Farewell, my dear.”
We hugged each other for a few moments, both weeping softly, “Goodbye, Elise,” I said, and left, knowing not if I would ever return.
I found myself a place of solace in the Wilcox’s garden, where my notions of Andre had been destroyed and this trouble had all began.. My mind rumbled over and over the occurrences. Sir Wilson de Blays, indeed! He knew nothing of me and went and took the only thing I had left in all the world, my friend Elise. Spoiled, arrogant, selfish! The de Blayses were not the kind to be prejudiced easily. What lie had he told them? That my station as servant had rendered me indecent and promiscuous? That I had spread rumors about them? And he had done it in the midst of my hurt over Andre, which brought another wheel of thoughts spinning into my head. .. Andre, I truly loved you, I did! How could I have been so harsh that night I found you with that woman? Surely, you meant it not so evilly as I assumed! If I had only acted properly I would still have you!
In the end I just cried on the garden bench, bewildered and hopeless. Not a soul on the earth to turn to. “God, where are you?” I cried aloud. And, surprisingly, inside of me an answer came back. And I was comforted

Lonely weeks passed. In them God was my only companion, and I was surprised to find him sufficient. He loved me, despite all my faults, with a love that astounded me. He helped me through my pain, when I had thought no one could. I became ashamed I had not built any relationship with him, prayed to him, loved him before, that I only did so now when I had no one else. I started to believe the saying true that one does not realize something’s value until that is one’s only option. For God was better than any person had been to me, far better even than Andre. I decided I could find fulfillment in Him. I was done with selfish, unfaithful, betraying, hurtful men.

The only things that interrupted the dark and desolation of the night were a few weakly flickering lanterns and the echoes o of rowdy voices. I was returning from my weekly visit home late. Too late. How could I be so foolish to stay so long? It’s past ten and here I am, a young girl out walking alone. I was engulfed by feelings of vulnerability and fear. I reigned them in. as I turned onto a side street. It’s not too far. As long as I’m not seen…. But as I was suppressing my unreasonable feelings with reason, my reason was proved to be unreasonable.
“Hope,” a rough voice growled my name, slightly familiar.
My heart leapt into my throat. This is not good!. I did not stop, but suddenly a man was standing in my path. I whirled around and another stood behind me, “What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Rather bold aren’t you?”
I recognized the voice now. Swenson. And his partner was Grimmer. “What do you want?” I asked, though I was afraid I did know.
“Oh I think you know that. You know and have refused to give it to me.,” he paused and scrutinized my face through the dark, “There, it’s written all over your face. But there’s no need to look so glum. We’re just gonna have a little fun.”
I knew it for certain. “This isn’t right, Swenson. You let me pass,” I said, employing my most authoritative tone.
“And why should I do that?”
I screamed. As loud as I could. And again and again. There was no way I could fight these two men. I needed help. God… I prayed silently. I struggled against Swenson, but he managed to take hold of me and clapped his hand over my mouth.
“Don’t you try anything like that again,” he threatened, and gave my head a rough jerk.
Thoughts raced through my head. What can I do? I can’t just let this happen!
He pulled me toward a rude flight of descending stairs. I bit his hand and, struggling, managed to break away, and screamed again. But he caught me and slapped me hard across the face, sending me to the ground.
“Insolent brat!” he spat. He slammed his boot into me, then yanked me up. “Had enough?” he asked menacingly, “Just give in,” he said and dragged my more roughly toward the stairwell. I could not submit to this! Would no one come? I twisted and fought, but it was no use; his grip was unyielding as iron, dooming me to dreadful horrors.
But suddenly there was noise behind me. Swenson cursed and moved with me more quickly. Someone was come! Hurry, hurry! All of a sudden Swenson was knocked off balance. His arms went out, releasing hold of me. I turned and saw Grimmer was down. A man stood there; he threw a punch at Swenson, then grabbed my arm and we ran. Faster than I had ever ran before. Away from them, away from the terrors. It did not occur to me not to trust him. I did not tire, though we ran quite along way. After a time he pushed through the door of an inn, and took me into a side room; it was cozy, warm and lit by a fire. I leaned against the wall for strength as I caught my breath. He waited there by my side, a tall figure in a long, rich cloak. I was safe. I wasn’t in danger- but how close I had come to such terrible experiences! Only by God… I was so overwhelmed I began to cry softly.
“You’re safe from them here. It’s alright,” the man said, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder.
Turning my tear-filled eyes, I looked my rescuer in the face for the first time, and found myself staring into the face of Sir Wilson de Blays, “Sir de Blays,” I gasped.
Recognition dawned in his eyes and he took his hand off my shoulder immediately, “Hope,” he spoke my name coldly.
“What are the chances?” I asked, astounded and frustrated, then said stiffly, “I suppose I should thank you; I owe you my life.”
“Know it was duty that called my and nothing else; I did not even know it was you,” he responded.
What does he have against me? Here I was assaulted and he still has no consideration. “I expect nothing else from you,” I said.
“How kind of you, to insult your liberator,” he scoffed.
“It was not an insult but a statement of fact. But who are you to speak of kindness? You have threatened me and taken something valuable from me when I have done nothing to you,” I said, beginning to voice the thoughts I had had of him during the last weeks, thinking not of restraint.
“Not to me, but to powers yet greater,” he discarded my look of non understanding, “Yes; I know your secretinvolvements. Do not assume me clueless. And I have taken nothing from you which you deserved,” he said.
Could no one leave me alone to live my life without making it so painful? All this, in one night… “Sir, I cannot begin to fathom what you speak of. And how do you think yourself fit to judge my worthiness? The friendship I had in Elise was the only thing I had left of value in the world- what could you possibly know that makes you so worthy of depriving me of that?”
“I know you are not innocent- stop this masquerade. You were no more of a friend to Elise than you are now to me. You visited her merely so you might gain intelligence to pass on to the Tory Amos Crawford. What say you now?”
I was astonished and angry. What in the world? How can he perceive me so wrongly? “I say,” I said, my voice full of emotion, “that you could not have misunderstood me more fully. I ask that you listen to me now and believe me when I say I am speaking the truth.”
“And what reason do I have to believe you?” he asked.
“I swear. To God,” I said sincerely, “And you can verify what I say with Elise.”
“I suppose it is the best you can do. Then let us sit. Or rather, in a minute,” He walked to the innkeeper, who he seemed to be familiar with, then came back with two hot mugs, “Here, one is for you,” he said curtly, without looking at me, “You are, after all a maiden in distress.”
I took it and thanked him gratefully. Though my mind was alert and my emotions flowed high, I was exhausted physically. But I was confused at his kindness. What was this? Guilt for interrogating me so? Duty? I did not attempt to answer the question; I began my defense, not caring if he believed me, just wanting the truth to be known. “My story begins with a man by the name of Sir. Abraham Patten- you have heard of him?” I said.
“Indeed I have,” he said coldly, with his old challenging tone, “He held to his beliefs, was loyal to his companions, and in doing so defied the British. He was found out and killed for it, three summers ago in 1777.”
“True- all of it. He,” I said sadly, “was my father… He was wonderful to us, kind and selfless and cheerful; when he died we did not know whether we wanted to live on. But I will not go off on that; that was just the beginning. Perhaps you know also that my father was a well-off man. Men were bound to pursue my mother, but because of the war there were less than there might have been. Only one was serious; my uncle, the widower of my father’s sister. He goes by the name of Sir Amos Crawford-“
“What?” Sir de Blays interrupted me, “Is this the same Crawford as the Tory?”
“He is- my mother is now married to him. He… has been no good for my family. While frittering away much of Father’s wealth, he forced me into the servitude at the Wilcox’s. So here is where you are wrong. You saw me at my home; you assumed it was Sir Crawford I was interested in and wanted to ‘pass on intelligence.’ But it is my family that I go to see. I am a servant with gentry blood; I am a daughter that know has a tyrant for a father. That is my case. Inspect it for its truth before you dismiss it as a lie.”