Free Through a Glass Darkly: A Novel by Karleen Koen Page A

for they shall be filled—"
       She closed her eyes. Kit and Charlotte recited smoothly, while Anne stayed just a word behind. She had not learned her verses and was trying to fool Cousin Henley.
       Bless me, dearest Lord, she thought, on this, the most important venture of my life. I promise I will be good; I promise, if you will make Roger marry me.
    * * *

       The day had arrived. She stood in the middle of her chamber, her woolen cloak lined with fur tied securely, her traveling gown laced and hooked in place, her hair combed neatly, her heart beating like a drum. Everything that had made this chamber hers was gone, packed in those trunks tied to the luggage cart that would follow the carriage. She had given her birds' nests to Kit. Her mattress had been rolled up, taken outside to air before servants replaced it on her bed. She touched the edge of one of her bed curtains, her fingers on the raised pattern of the crewelwork. Her heart was beating so hard that she thought it would explode from her chest. Her childhood was over. The next time she returned to Tamworth, she would return as a wife, possibly as a mother, God willing, as He must be willing. She felt dizzy with the emotion swirling inside her.
       "Your lady mother says to hurry." Her maidservant spoke sullenly. Barbara was not taking her servant to London with her—her retaliation for the betrayal that first evening to Diana. If she could not be loyal here in Tamworth, what would be her worth in London? Besides, she would hire a French maid as her personal attendant. She was going to be fashionable and elegant, as Roger was. He would be proud of her.
       "Tell her I will be only a few moments longer." She had to say one last good-bye to her brothers and sisters, a task as heartrending as that of leaving her grandmother. She had spent all morning in her grandmother's chambers. Together they had said prayers, and her grandmother had read to her from the Bible.
       "'Keep thy heart with all diligence,'" the Duchess had recited, "'for out of it are the issues of life.'" She had sat holding her grandmother's hand while Annie brushed her hair and tied ribbons in it. She promised that she would remember to say her prayers, to attend church services, to mind her manners, to watch her temper, to be polite and respectful to her elders, to listen to all that was told her, to speak quietly and seldom, as became a modest young woman of good family.
       "And take this," her grandmother said gruffly, at the last minute, thrusting a bag of coins into her hands. "I gave your mother money, but I have no doubt it will fall through her hands like water. It always has. It always will. This is a secret between you and me, mind. Now go and say your farewells to those brothers and sisters of yours."
       Kit, Charlotte and Anne were lined up like a row of dolls in the nursery. Only the baby was missing, asleep in his cradle, and Tom away at school, and—of course—Harry. She came forward with a smile, holding out her arms to them. They ran to her, even Kit, who usually felt that he was too old to show emotion. She sat down on the floor, heedless of her gown, and pulled Charlotte, who was already crying, into her lap. Anne clutched a fold of her sister's traveling cloak in one tight little fist and said nothing.
       "Do not leave me, Bab!" Charlotte sobbed. "Please! You are the only one I can talk to. Grandmama is so old!"
       From her corner by the window Cousin Henley frowned, and Barbara saw it. Anne began to cry. Even Kit made a furious wipe at his eyes. Cousin Henley rose, and Barbara shook her head at her.
       "Leave it be, Cousin," she said. "They may cry. Listen to me. Listen!" she soothed. "When I am married, I will send for you, all of you, and if Henley is not kind, I shall hire a new governess to care for you, and we shall live in a big, grand house. And you will be aunts and uncles to my babies."
       In her corner, Cousin Henley shook