Angel of Ash (41 page)

“
Mrs. Bates,” she said.

“
Yes, my lady,” she was well use to the early mornings of the lady, often finding her in the kitchens knee deep in kneading flour or scrubbing the floors from the wee morning hours, but Angel was fully dressed in traveling clothes as was Glory in her arms, Mrs. Bates heart sunk.

“
Mrs. Bates, I’m leaving.”

Annabelle’s, the maid, jaw dropped. She dropped the basket of laundry she was holding and stared at the thin but resolute figure of her lady. “My lady?” She asked questioningly, her heart beating with trepidation; she adored the lady as did everyone in the household. There could be no one more kinder or gentler than her, the whole staff would die for her and the wee babe, they’d given joy and love to this household even during and despite of the lords sickness.

“
Mine and Glory’s’ trunks are at the door, the hackney has pulled up already. I had Harold go and hail one. The lord is gone, as to where, I know not.”

“
Are you going to one of the country estates, my lady?” Mrs. Bates, her deep eyes filled with worry and concern. “My lady, whatever is amiss, please, I can help, or…or,” she could not think of more to say.

“
No I am not going to a country estate.” Angel said firmly. “For your loyalty I thank you, mistress. You are a wonderful and able housekeeper and I would not have survived this year without your support.”

“
My lady, where are you going? What shall I tell the lord?”

“
I left him a letter. Thank you Mrs. Bates, thank you Annabelle, thank you for everything,” she said. Glory shifted in her arms. “Good bye.”

Chapter 12

Asher kept her letter in his hands, he’d read it more than one hundred times, staring at it dimly it had been six days since Angel had left, he’d called off the party, spoke little to his family and had immersed himself back into his businesses, becoming even more selfish, cruel, impenetrable. His wife and child had gone and secretly he’d wanted it this way, had forced her away, he could not live with the fact that he’d awaken one day and they would be gone and he’d be old and near his own death bed. Better for her to leave, he’d started the proceedings for the divorce and had set aside a sizable sum for her and Glory’s’ needs and his own need for the sanitarium that he’d eventually be locked into.

He did not know exactly where she went, only knowing that she’d found a lawyer who refused to disclose her location and through him he sent correspondence.

He looked at the letter again.

Asher,

There is no more that I can say or do that would allow you to trust me. I have given you everything that I have, from my body, to my love to my very soul. I cannot suffer your abuse or rejection any longer. Nor will I allow Glory to suffer your abuse and for her concern and peace I leave. For you will to turn against your own flesh and blood out of bitterness and resentment and hate. Peace be unto you
.

He knew that she spoke the truth; he could not refute her words and denied his parents request at a resolution. It was for the best, he’d brought her into his madness long enough. She deserved her freedom. She deserved a life away from him. She and Glory both.

It would take months to finalize the divorce papers. He stared at the cold fire, his body refusing sleep, usually he worked throughout the night, Anthony often keeping him company and then sleeping in short bursts throughout the day, absolutely afraid to fall asleep for too long. Yet, this night, he’d not had the stomach for work and had retired to his study at home, reading her letter over again, and holding the one doll that she’d forgotten to pack, the doll that had been a favorite of both his wife and his daughter, found under his bed when he’d dropped a sleeve cuff.

The doll did look like his daughter, and therefore, his wife, golden skin, large hazel eyes and curly jet black hair. He held onto the doll as if for dear life before finally he could take it no more and he threw the doll in the fire.

There was nothing, no peace, no love, no hope, nothing except fear and blackness.

Six Months Later

His hands shook, they often did before he fell asleep, he’d not slept more than two hours at a time since Angel and Glory had left, and when he did sleep, only during the day, he’d wake up with a racing heartbeat, with shaking and trepidation until the London Times paper was checked for its date, so to the daily journal that he kept track of his days. Since she’d left he’d fallen into amnesiac states, twice. Once for two days and the other time for four days. His parents had called the doctor, notified by his concerned servants and they had kept him company as the doctors had ran numerous tests and then finally decided it was due to the electric shocks, they would forever damage his memory and cognitive functioning. He’d resolutely digested the news and had immersed himself even more in his business, fear often over taken him during the days as he hurried to transfer a couple of his businesses to Anthony and Caleb, the rest he sold, amassing a large fortune as he liquidated his assets and sold three of his country homes and a supply ship.

Asher stood, pacing around before closing his ledgers, locking them away and locking his office doors. He hurriedly got on his stallion, the only time he’d ever feel reasonably alive was racing the great beast. He did as such, racing outside the city, well past his home until hours later found him at the country side, at his sons’ grave. He got down, wrapping the stallions reins loosely around the willow tree that protected his son’s head stone from the weather. He was the only one who kept the grave manicured and next to it, the daughter that had been miscarried.

He never spoke, he just stood at the small grave of his dead newborn sons and he stared into the darkness and he wished himself as such.

“
My lord,” Bates said. “Your brothers have arrived.”

Asher nodded once again in his study, he tried to keep his brothers at arms lengths as he did most of his family but this time he’d requested their presence. “Send them in,” he said.

“
Yes my lord,” he said and moments later the four of them entered and also Gabe, his brother in law, they either stood or took seats around the room, waiting for their brother to begin.

“
Brothers,” Asher said curtly, nodding in courtesy. “Thank you for coming, but I shall not waste more of your time than needed. As you are well aware I am deeding over my businesses to Anthony and Caleb. That was completed as of today. Also completed was my divorce to the lady Angel.”

“
There was no other recourse?” Gabe asked, as the brothers looked pained.

“
No, my lord, no other. The lady deserves more than what I am able to give her, the divorce is not nor shall it ever be any blame of her. I instigated the divorce and I was the reason for the divorce. Please keep her in your well graces if she chooses to contact you.”
“Why?” David asked. “She was your wife, why did you not fight for her? Do you not care for her or your daughter?” He asked in exclamation.

“
I have provided for their every financial need.”

“
I’m not talking finances, damn you,” David bit off.

Asher’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening upon his desk. “Never thee mind, baby brother,” he said in warning. “She is now free to do as she wish. Including accepting the courtship of others,” he started pointedly at Anthony and Caleb. “And remarrying. I speak of another topic, I have sold my home to an American couple and will be…indisposed for an extended length of time.” He said.

There was silence; it was Caleb who spoke first. “And you mean not to tell us where, or when or how, or why.” He stated.

“
You are correct, sir.” He said. “I ask that you comfort the parents and the rest of the family and extend them my words until I return.”
If I return
.

Asher didn’t know quite where he was, he’d first traveled to London, taking only three changes of clothing, personal bathing affects, money and a journal. He’d brought a horse on the coast of France and had traveled first to Paris and then beyond to the French countryside, his travels drew him increasingly eastward with only the bare minimum of food and water. He did not know what he looked for, where he was going or what his goal was, he only knew that if he did not find a cure for the pain of his mind he would kill himself. It was no doubt, no other discourse, he could not live as he’d done, his soul and heart were at war with each other, had been since he’d been conscious of thought and sound. There was an evilness to him that could not be stilled, could not be saved and could not be forgiven.

Asher traveled.

He ruminated often regarding Angel and Glory, he brought charcoal and parchment drawing paper from a passing vendor and often would spend hours at a time drawing their profiles, before placing them neatly upon an envelope. He kept track of his days by marking the date on his hand before he went to sleep each night and keeping a journal of the dates and often when passing strangers asking them of the day to ascertain he’d not fallen into one of his ‘sleeps’. On his person he kept a letter written to his family and one to Angel and Glory and his identification and residency with the promise that if his body was found a ransom in gold would be given if brought back to London, to be placed in the custody of his parents…to be buried next to his dead son, and daughter.

Asher wandered for more than nine months days before stopping, his food had long since left him and he’d been more than twelve days without food and three day without water. The last broken and old sign he’d passed has been nearly three hours ago, and he stood in a heavy, thicketed snow filled forest with his horse that availed to find food, finally eating a small outcropping of still green grass. He found a large tree and slid down heavily, sitting in weakness and leaning against the tree, having just enough strength to stare at his horse munch contently and feeling his soul hover, weak, he was so tired. Tired of the pain.

“
God forgive my actions towards my wife, God forgive my actions towards my daughter. God forgive my actions towards my family and those that I have wronged. God please forgive me.”

He felt the heavy snow cover him and watched his horse walk lazily away until it became distant, lost underneath the heavy snow and Asher did not call out or speak, the snow lying heavily upon his hair, lashes, covering his already white hair.

Closing his eyes he laid against the snow covered tree, the cold seeping into the very depths of his body, he sighed.

There was warmth, the sound of distant low conversation, a female voice, he thought, briefly in hope, Angel, but although lilting had a different timbre than his wife and spoke Italian. He listened, trying to figure out where he was, only knowing that he was exceedingly warm and smelled yeasty bread and roasting meat.

“
Si,” the voice said and Asher slowly opened his eyes, viewing a nurse in a crisped starched uniform, he looked around, taking in the low cots, a long room…an infirmary. Upon the wall across from him was a heavy wooden cross.

He began to speak in English and then stopped, speaking in Italian. “Where am I?” He asked, his voice rough, harsh, tired.

“
Our Lord of Mercy, hospital, my lord,” the nurse said, her face, kind and only slightly wrinkled felt his forehead. “We had hopes that you would return and you did. Four days you have been unconscious, the doctor will want to see you…we found the letters upon your person.”

“
Where are they?”

“
In the stand, next to your bed, I hold the key, my lord, they are safe.”

“
Thank you.”

“
My lord?” The nurse asked hesitantly.

“
Yes?”

“
Your family…your wife and daughter they are very beautiful. I am certain they miss you.”

He could only nod staring at the ceiling, for the first time in years he felt tears trickle from his eyes but he was too tired to wipe them away or care, he kept his gaze at the wooden beamed ceiling, he was the only person in the infirmary after the nurse left.

He heard more voices, this time masculine, two as the tears dried upon his face and he looked to notice an elderly man who pulled up a chair next to him in a doctors uniform. The man exuded kindness as had the nurse and smiled the weathered skin creasing.

“
My lord,” he said in heavily accented Italian.

“
I speak Italian,” Asher returned and the doctor nodded thankfully.

“
My lord, you were very close to death, at the very gate, the nurses had more hope than I myself had, and prayed mightily over you, so if you wish to have died, you can blame them.”

Asher snorted. “I shall duly think mightily of that.”

“
Your letters…my lord,” the doctor began, his face fallen. “They were found by me and the nurse and alone only we have read them. We thought you dead when you were found. Near frozen alive. It is a wonder you did not lose any appendages. I therefore feel bravado in asking, seeing as how you are taken ill and cannot argue against my logic…my lord, what madness do you carry?”

Asher swallowed many times before he could speak. “A madness of the mind, manic depression, melancholia, bipolar disorder, sir. Every since I was a child there has been nothing except darkness and fear. I aimed to…either find a cure for my madness or end it all. I had not found a cure when you stumbled upon me.”