Free Obsession by Claire Lorrimer

Catholic faith and would not go to Confession, so would remain unpardoned.
    Once again, it was the kindly Sister Brigitte who counteracted such lectures by telling Harriet that God was kind to sinners, and that if she prayed for forgiveness, He would grant it even if she was not of their faith.
    Harriet hated deceiving this caring little woman, but she dared not relinquish her pretence that she had lost her memory, despite the horrifying thoughts they had about her. For them ever to know her name meant that she could be found to be Brook’s wife, and he would learn the truth about the miscarriage she need never have had. She would do anything to prevent that, even if it meant letting the nuns continue in their delusions. Often she was unable to check her tears; the fact that she had lost the baby boy who would have been Brook’s precious son as well as hers hurt even more painfully because she herself had caused it. She longed to be able to confess the truth to her kindly carer, who kept assuring her when she found her weeping that it was not her fault that she had miscarried. The good Lord, she said, gave life, and it was His to take away as He thought fit. Harriet must not feel that she was being punished by God for trying to earn a living on the streets.

SIX
1865
    I t was early on a surprisingly warm, early November morning when Sister Brigitte escorted Harriet on to the ferry boat tied up at Clarence Dock. The kindly nun, pink-cheeked and flustered, said for the umpteenth time, ‘You shouldn’t be travelling on your own, child. I know you think you can manage, but in that lovely gown we have mended and laundered for you, you look quite the lady who should be travelling with a maid. Are you quite sure you still cannot remember who you are? Looking after you as I have, I feel sure you are accustomed to such attentions.’
    Harriet’s heart doubled its beat. Despite having begged the nuns to enquire after Bessie, who she had referred to as a friend, there had been no news of any kind. According to Sister Brigitte, there were accounts every day in the
Liverpool Daily Post
of thefts, assaults and drunken fights, but as Harriet did not know the name of the alley in which she and Bessie had been attacked, it had proved impossible to discover what had happened on the night of the fire.
    The thought which from time to time crossed Harriet’s mind – that Bessie might have been killed by their attackers – filled her with distress, which added to her guilt over the loss of the baby she’d not known she was carrying. Part of her longed to be able to write to Brook and let him know what had transpired, but she did not dare risk the withdrawal of his love for her, or, indeed, want him to be worried and upset by what had befallen her when there was nothing he, at such a distance, could do about it.
    Sister Brigitte was approaching an elderly lady with a great deal of luggage, about to board the ferry. A chill wind was blowing and Harriet shivered in her velvet mantle as she watched the two women talking. Beside her, another woman who appeared to be her maid was instructing one of the crew members as to which of the portmanteaux he must take to her mistress’ cabin. For a few moments Sister Brigitte remained in conversation with the passenger, during which they both turned to look at Harriet. Then the nun returned to her side.
    ‘The lady’s name is Lady Cavanagh,’ she told Harriet, adding happily, ‘and she has agreed to keep an eye on you during the voyage. She will ensure that her maid sees you safely into a hansom cab when you dock at Dublin Port. It is to be hoped your cabin is not too far from theirs. She will look for you there from time to time to ascertain you are all right. I told a little fib – I said you were a governess on your way to a new position.’
    She gave a sigh. ‘I shall have to confess the lie,’ she said with a wry smile, ‘but I expect Father will give me as many penances as necessary to