Shadows In The Fire

                      

 

 Faye Wilding opened her eyes. The beams of sunlight streaming in through the curtains of her hospital room, were the first thing she saw. The voices were quiet now. It felt surreal because usually they were so active, so eager to be heard.

 

She took in her surroundings. The hospital room was cold and impersonal. How long had she been here?  The last thing she remembered was Nolan slamming his fist into her face.

   

She lifted her hand. Her left eye felt tender and swollen. Had he hit her so hard and carelessly? He was usually so careful about leaving visible evidence.

 

She tried to remember what happened, the fragments of memories arranging themselves as it all came flooding back to her. It was foggy, but not completely indiscernible. It was always like this. She always had to fight to remember the beatings, as if her mind wanted to block out as much as possible, to spare her almost.

 

Last night had been the annual Children’s Charity Ball, her second as Mrs. Nolan Wilding.   

 

They’d been dancing. She was so happy and then, all of a sudden, the vision, the same vision she had seen so many times in her life, had assuaged her, causing her to scream in fear, wildly pushing Nolan away and fleeing the ballroom in terror, oblivious to the scandalized looks and hushed whispers of disapproval from all the matrons of high society.   

 

Always the same, a woman roped to a stake, screaming, as the flames scorched and burned the flesh from her bones.   

 

She’d fled to their house, where Nolan found her, sitting, and crying on the bed.

 

 ‘You stupid bitch,’ he’d fumed, ’do you have any idea of the humiliation you have caused this family? Do you know how many investors were there? And what must they think of me now for having a train wreck for a wife?’

 

She’d stared up at him with her tearstained face, not even flinching at the verbal insult. She was used to it by now.  Her expressive hazel eyes showed no fear. This was the nature of their marriage.

 

‘I saw it again, Nolan, ’she said softly.’ The vision, of the burning woman.’

 

‘Fuck your damn vision! ’ he yelled, dragging her off the bed by her flowing dark hair, his rage reaching boiling point.

 

Fighting back was futile, it would only make the beating so much worse.

 

 ‘This was the last straw! Do you think in my position, with my family’s standing and good name, do you think I need a goddamn lunatic for a wife?  This marriage is over, and you have embarrassed me for the last time!  Do you hear me?  Do you?’ 

 

Still holding her by the hair, his fist connected with her face, and everything went blank from there, till now, that she remembered.   

 

She closed her eyes, then heard the door open and a woman’s voice spoke to her.

 

‘Mrs. Wilding?’ She opened her eyes. This must be her doctor.   

 

‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘I am Mrs. Wilding.’

 

For some reason, saying it felt odd, as if the name didn’t belong to her anymore.

   

‘I’m Dr. Miller. You gave us all a scare last night, after the fall you took down the stairs at your home.’

 

Faye smiled.  So that’s the spin Nolan put on it. She’d fallen down the stairs.   

 

He’d probably dragged her from the bedroom and rolled her down it himself, an old trick of his. He knew exactly how much force to use, not to kill her.  

 

The first time he’d hit her, four months into their marriage, he’d pushed her down the stairs and left her lying there till the paramedics arrived. She had three broken ribs and a twisted ankle from that encounter.

  

No one batted an eye at him. As heir to the wealthy Wilding empire, his money rendered him above reproach. It also helped that his bitch mother knew which strings to pull to keep it undercover.   

 

‘You were out for a while, ’the doctor continued, ’but luckily both of you are okay. In your condition that's nothing short of miraculous.’ 

 

‘Both of us?  ’Faye asked, surprised at the word ‘both’.  Had Nolan in his abusive zest taken a tumble with her?  She found the thought quite amusing.   

 

‘Yes, Mrs. Wilding.  You and your baby are both in perfect health.’ 

 

 

………..

 

 

 

The English Coast, 1794

 

‘I dream of people, Mother,’ nine year old Esther said, ’and sometimes when I wake they speak to me, in my head.’

 

 Mathilda wiped her hands on her apron, her heart beating frantically.   

 

It has happened, she thought, one of my daughters has inherited my gift, the one thing I have tried to keep hidden all my life. 

 

‘What do they say to you, dear one?  ’Mathilda asked as calmly as possible, terrified at the thought that Tobias, her husband, would find out. He was a very religious man and to him this would reek of witchcraft.   

 

She shuddered at the word.  Even now Tobias was out with Magnus, the most feared witchfinder in all the land. If they were to know, her precious Esther would burn.   

 

‘They tell me things that will happen, ’Esther continued in her little girl voice, ’and last night they scared me.’

 

‘What did they say Esther?  ’Mathilda asked, a bit more forcefully than what she should have.   

 

 ‘Mother.  .  .  .  they told me you will die.’

 

 

………

 

 

 

 It seemed as if time stood still as Dr. Miller’s words sunk in.

 

Faye was sure her jaw had dropped ten inches from pure shock.  How was it possible?  She had never missed her birth control pills once. The last thing she ever wanted was to give Nolan a child. The thought of involving a baby in their tawdry mess of a marriage was enough to give her palpitations. It was horrifying enough that she had to endure the abuse.

 

‘Doctor, are you saying I’m pregnant?  ’she asked, disbelief coursing through her veins.   

 

‘Yes, ’ Dr. Miller smiled, ’you’re 12 weeks along and after the  tumble you took, you’re very lucky that no harm came to the baby.’

 

Dear God, she was pregnant.  She was carrying Nolan’s child, the grandchild of the mighty Anna Wilding.

 

 ‘Does my husband know? About the baby I mean?’

 

 ‘No, he hasn’t been here yet.’

 

‘Doctor, whatever you do, do not tell him.’

 

 ‘Mrs. Wilding, I don’t understand. Surely this is something to be celebrated with your husband.’

 

‘Just do as I ask doctor. My husband must never know about this baby.’