The Admiral's Wife

Chapter Six

This week's art work: Street in Halifax, North End, Circa 1805

Hamilton Town House.

December, 1805

During the night it had begun to snow. The citizens of Halifax awoke to find the city blanketed in about a foot of white powder. It was quite cold, but the sun was shining brilliantly in a cloudless sky. Mary stood at her window and allowed its rays, as they traveled through the glass, to warm her, although at this point she was not sure how she could ever be warm again.

All through the long hours of the previous night her emotions had swung like a pendulum, back and forth, back and forth. There had been pure joy to know that he was alive, for truly it was miracle that he had stood before her, a wonder that she had once again been able to feel the warmth of his hand in hers. And then, moments later to be hurled into the depths of tearful despair to know that she could never be with him, could never love him again.

To know that he was on this earth however, even if she could not have him for her own, served to lighten her spirit, albeit in a strange sort of way. It was this knowledge that she would have to be satisfied with, for it was very likely all that she would ever have of him.

In the early hours of the morning, Iva had brought a crying Sarah to her for a feeding. After she had nursed, Mary held the child close to her for a time. She cradled the tiny head covered with the soft downy tufts of almost white hair in the crook of her arm. She gazed down at the perfectly formed little face with its smooth visage, tiny nose and lips still pursed from feeding. Sarah slept happily now that her little belly had been filled. Mary imagined how wonderful it would be to show William his daughter, this beautiful child they had created—but then again, surely, she could not tell him—not without Aaron's knowledge and approval. And so, she had spent the hours of darkness in this strange combination of elation and anguish.

At this moment, as she stood at the window, the events of the previous evening filled her thoughts. Her father had taken her home as soon as her conversation with William had ended. William had seemed very angry and of course he would be. He did not know why she had married another, and indeed how could he? She had no idea of how she should proceed, and emphatically wished the Admiral were here. Surely, he would know what to do, were he only here.

She and her father had left through another entrance in the house so that she need not be viewed by the Vice Admiral's guests. John had simply explained to their host—who was very concerned for her well-being—that perhaps it had been too soon after the birth of the child for her to be out and about. This explanation had seemed to suffice and was immediately accepted as the plausible reason for Mary's collapse.

Not having slept a wink, Mary instructed Iva that she did not wish to be disturbed until noon, unless of course it was for Sarah. Unbelievably, she slept for four hours without an awakening. At precisely twelve noon and with a light tap on the door, Iva came in to awaken her with Sarah in her arms. Mary immediately sat up and accepted the babe.

Iva then reached into her pocket. "Ben said a gentleman came by to see you." Her face showed no expression as she pulled out a small envelope. "He left this."

Mary hesitated for only an instant. "Thank you, Iva, please put it on the table, I'll see to it after I've finished with Sarah."

"Yes Ma'am." Iva placed it on Mary's bedside table and turned and left the room, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

All through the feeding, Mary found her eyes drifting again and again to the small white envelope where it lay on the table. When at long last Sarah was satisfied and sleeping, Mary laid the sweet and warm little body upon the bed and reached to pick up the letter and open it.