The Heir and the Spared

Chapter Nine

"A moment, gentleman," he said, and the driver and footmen bowed and stepped back to their place by the carriage.

Still holding her hand, he helped her up the stairs to her temporary lodging. He ushered her in before him, then closed the door. Mary finally glanced at him fully.

"I have been thinking," he began.

He went quiet again, and for a moment, he stroked her hand softly with his fingers. It was unlike him to be thoughtful. Attempting to conceal any sign of curiosity or suspicion, Mary searched her husband's face.

"I shall go on a pilgrimage, Mary," he continued at last. "While you take the waters here, I shall go northwest to Saint Winifred's Well. I shall taste of its holy waters, and be made pure."

Mary remained silent, but she was conscious of her breathing; she kept it as even as possible. Lest her eyes betray her by revealing her eager joy, she lowered her gaze. So James wished to be purified... He wished to start anew.

"I shall be back in a week's time," he continued. He held her hand tighter. "When I return, I shall be yours."

Feeling his gaze intent upon her, Mary raised her eyes once more to meet his, not daring to speak the question in her heart.

He held her gaze. "Completely," he finished quietly.

For a few breaths, Mary was still, but for her eyelids fluttering closed.

"James," she said finally, gripping his fingers.

He bowed and lifted her hand, his lips brushing across her skin. There he lingered for a moment. Mary was conscious of her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, for she was afraid to move, afraid to shatter what must be an illusion.

"You may stay, if you wish," she breathed, clutching his hand just a bit more tightly.

His eyes met hers.  "I must make this pilgrimage," he said softly.  "I must return to you a new man."

And though she was loath to release him, she knew he was right - they both knew why he must go, and of what he had to be washed clean.  When he returned, then they could start again.  He would take her in his arms, as he once had, and she would not let him go.

Then James stepped back, and inclined his head to her once more before opening the door.

"Up you get, Jack," James commanded his driver. "The sooner we are off, the sooner we shall return."

The door closed behind him. Exhaling shakily, Mary sank into a nearby chair, and put her tingling hand over her heart.

--

Upon their arrival, Sarah had allowed herself a precious few moments to herself to take in the view from her window, and to thrill over the promise of the coming days. Then she had started her duties of preparing the queen's rooms, since she would be expected in a few hours' time.

The rattle and jingle of leather harnesses and the clatter of hooves on cobblestone alerted her some time later to the arrival of the royal carriages. She started down the stairs to greet her mistress, but the sound of the king's voice stopped her near the top, still out of sight. Despite her close contact with the queen, His Majesty still seemed remote and terrifying.

Scarcely breathing, she froze in place, willing the stairs not to creak under her weight and betray her. Thankfully they remained silent, and she listened, knowing it was wrong to do so, to the very audible voice of the king.

A pilgrimage... St. Winifred's Well... to be made pure.

Sarah's jaw tightened. It seemed so like a Catholic, and so like His Majesty, to think that water could atone for the sins he had committed so freely. Only genuine repentance, and faith in Jesus Christ, could do that.