The Edge

Chapter 40

It was two days later when the Constable came back, this time without Magistrate Phillips. With Father John and Nurse Ruth in the room, he sat at the end of my bed and removed his helmet. He took out his little note pad but not his pencil, smiled reassuringly and consulted his pad.

“Your Ladyship, I have returned with some news. After our last meeting I decided to follow the line of enquiry myself to save time and trouble. I have spoken to several trustworthy persons and then with the magistrate. It appears that there are witnesses to your accident who are prepared to come forward to testify as to how you came by them and so now I must consult with you on how to proceed. ”

I looked askance at him and Father John undertook to explain.

“The constable and myself have spoken with Mrs Levin. That good woman came to me and said that she was uneasy about the way you had been treated and she has made a formal statement detailing your injury’s and how you came by them. We have also the testimony of your maid and Ruth Riley, also of Sarah Bates, the housemaid at the Hall. All of them have told the same sad tale, that you were kept under guard, that you have been treated cruelly and that they have repeatedly seen examples of this.” The constable began to talk.

“They have given their testimonials secretly, as they did not wish to publicly go against Lord Llewellyn. I have let no one save the magistrate know of this and he has given his oath to say nothing of this to anyone. However the servants will be useful. With this evidence, I believe that there is good reason to charge your husband with the crime of....” I broke in. two days of thinking about everything, two days without seeing Daniel or my husband, two days without fear had allowed me to decide on what I wished to happen next.

“Constable James, I am grateful to you for taking such an interest in this case. I am grateful to all who have undertaken to speak out on my behalf but the truth of the matter is, I do not wish to have my husband charged with any offence.”

Every soul in the room stared at me. Only Father John's eyes seemed to show understanding, the rest looked dumbfounded. Constable James tried to understand for all of them.

“Your Ladyship, your injury’s....the way in which you have been treated....you must understand that this is a very serious matter, a legal matter and not one in which you can have much say.”

“I do understand that, but hear me on this first. I do not wish to challenge my husband because I know what his reaction would be. I do not wish to challenge him because I do not want my private life, and his, and all who know us, to be talked of. I do not want the servants who have agreed to speak to lose their situations. This is a family matter and should be handled privately.”

The constable scratched his head with his pencil and licked his lips.

“I can understand your reasoning but even so....” I pushed my point home.

“Constable James, you have lived in this area some years. You knew the late Lord Robert. You knew of his wife. They are gathered to God now. My husband has lost both his parents as well as his heir, all within a few months. I do not wish him or me or anyone to lose more. Please. Let me at least speak with a solicitor, or with Magistrate Phillips. Let me seek advice before anything is taken further. I beg you, wait a little. I know I am perhaps unworldly but I simply want to avoid unpleasantness. Can you understand that and make allowances for me?”

The constable glanced at Father John and then nodded. He stood up, gave assurances that he would pass on my message to Magistrate Phillips and left. Nurse Ruth sat back next to me and quietly began to knit. I took up my own work again; I had been allowed to knit since it gave me occupation and kept my hands busy. Also the stitches were not too small so I would not strain my eye. I had started to knit a new shawl; the one I had been making was left up at the hall. Nurse Ruth said nothing about my actions but I could tell she somehow approved. I wondered if she would speak of it but when she did speak, it was of a completely different topic.

“What shall you do for collecting your belongings, my lady? You have left all except that bundle which you brought with you. Think you that His Lordship may allow you to have then brought away?”

“It is in my thoughts that he might if I am discreet and forgiving, yes. I am sorry to see so much lost.”

The possessions I had brought were in the chest beyond my bed. The jewels Rhiannon had given me. The dolls representing my son and Bess and myself. The warm Shetland shawl that had been Bess's. My prayer book, a gift from my mother on my first communion. A few trinkets that had been hers. Nothing more. I would indeed be glad to get my other treasures back. And the doll’s house? Who knew?

Constable James was as good as his word, the magistrate arrived the next morning. I had been pronounced well enough to sit up and be dressed so was on a chair beside the fire. The magistrate was announced and Nurse Ruth stated that she would sit outside the door while we talked, to be in call if she were wanted. Once she had gone, Phillips sat down and smiled at me. He seemed less put off by my appearance and slightly less anxious.

“I wanted to be advised by you, sir, and also to explain myself a little. I hope I can trust to your discretion in this?” He bowed and waited.

“I know that Constable James will have told you of my unwillingness to charge my husband with any criminal offence? My desire to do this is probably not clear to you, in its reasoning. I wish to speak candidly with you about my reasons and I hope that you will be able to advise me better because of my candor.

The truth is that, aside from not wishing to have this sad affair talked of or to smear the good name of the Llewellyn family, I wish to barter for my own freedom. He may no longer care for me but he is still my husband and we are bound to each other in this lifetime unless some way can be found to part us lawfully. I know that he will agree to this if I agree to not press any charge.”

The magistrate raised his hand.

“Your Ladyship, I believe I must explain something to you. Divorce, as you know, is unthinkable. Even if it were not, there is no precedence for a wife divorcing her husband without a substantial amount of publicity involved. In this case, it would be an absolute scandal. This leaves an annulment. An annulment can only be obtained in certain circumstances. Since you have had a child together, there is no precedence for the marriage not being consummated. You are neither of you insane nor have either of you been married before. You are both respectable and therefore can never be accused of falling victim to poisons or drugs of some sort. That only leaves adultery, in some form, as a reason that could be used to obtain your legal break from his Lordship.”

Magistrate Phillips paused and looked at me meaningfully. Gone was the kind and slightly fawning man who I knew, in his place was the stern advocate of the law. I decided to be candid. I had nothing left to lose.

“Sir, I place in you a great trust by speaking out but I confess to you that I have been guilty of this crime. My husband knows this, it is the reason why he lost his head and wounded me thus. I have told so to Father John and he has absolved me of this sin in the eyes of the church. I ask you to use it to dissolve my marriage. If Michael will consent to an annulment, if you will do your best to procure one as quietly as may be, then I shall leave this area and not return nor will I publicly denounce Michael to the law or hold his accountable for anything. I have my own income which is mine to live on for life. I have a place to go to and a servant to go with me. I will not trouble the family more. All I ask is that I be allowed my annulment, that I be allowed to collect my belongings and that no public scandal be raised against me.”

Phillips stared at me, hard and with serious shock. He took some time to think over what I had said.

“If I am able to get Michael to agree to this, then you will sign a document to the effect you have just mentioned? Do you wish for nothing else? You speak of your crime and of his coolly. May I ask why you are so honest, and why you are so set on this?”

“I want to raise my child away from this place. I want to be away from this place. I am tired of anger and misery and cruelty. I am tired of secrets and spy’s and on looking over my shoulder. I want nothing more than to move to the country, to raise my child and to forget, as best I can.”

I spoke simply. I had no energy left. I looked at the magistrate and gave no look of shame or elation or pride, I simply looked.

He glanced at my belly and seemed to find a solution there because his face expressed contempt.

He nodded. He rose and said that he would d what he could. He went out without kissing my hand as usual. I was not sorry to see him go. I was tired of having to account to men for my actions. They were private and they were done with. I had been punished enough. Damn them all with their reasons and their views on me! I wanted to just live my life without their censure.

The magistrate was as good as his word. Two days later he came back, accompanied by the lawyer and Father John. Apparently Michael had agreed to an annulment on the grounds stated and if I signed a document giving him assurance of my silence then he would sign our annulment himself that very evening. From there it could be obtained privately by the lawyer and Magistrate Phillips, and I would be free to go where I please, taking care to inform them of my address.

The statement was signed quickly. I gave up any rights to any possession of my husbands, I undertook to keep silent and I was to leave within the week. I would be escorted by Father John and Nurse Ruth to the hall to have my possessions boxed up and then I could leave. The lawyer handed me the keys and deeds to my Cornish house, the one which had belonged to Bess. He also handed me a sealed letter which apparently gave details of my bank. He had undertaken to write to a fellow solicitor in the area I was moving to who would take control of my monitory and legal affairs.

Once this was done, Magistrate Phillips left, followed by the lawyer. I never saw either one of them again.

The next day I was taken to the hall. Dressed in quiet grey with a veil over my bandaged face, I was driven up the drive and saw again the house which I had last seen through pain and flames when I ran from the doll’s house to find myself outside on the path. Admitted to the house, the servants did not look me in the eye. Only Mrs Levin and Sarah still greeted me. Sarah escorted myself and Ruth Riley about the house.

In my old bedroom, I had the furniture and my dresses, my ornaments and books marked as being needed. These would be taken by wagon down to Cornwall. Sarah took advantage of the freedom in that lonely region to tell me of what had happened since I escaped.

“That old witch who was your keeper, she was sent off with a flea in her ear for letting you get out! I never saw a face so grim in my life! And Mrs Eveleigh, she was utterly undone by your accident, I swear that she had Master stay away from you, she is quite the mistress of the house now!”

I did not blame Victoria. She had what she wanted now. I wished her joy of it. For my part, I was only too happy to be gone. I asked to be let into my workroom.

Inside, the tables and benches were all gone. My work basket, my tools and brushed and easel, all were gone. All that was left was the portrait of Bess. Sarah saw my look.

“Master had everything taken down and burned in the stable yard that very night. He was like a man in thrall. Oh, my lady, that beautiful doll's house! As it burned I swear it was like seeing a vision of what could be, if some accident were to happen to this building.” She looked at me closely and then stepped up close.

“How ever did you do it? However did you escape? No one can figure it, not even Master!” I shook my head.

“If I told you, you would think me mad. Suffice to say, a friend helped me. A friend I will never see again. Ask me nothing more, Sarah, not now. And if ever you want a new situation, come and see me. I shall always have a place for you, if you care to take one.”

She nodded, disappointed but then smiling when I pressed a slip of paper with my address on it into her hand.

As I descended the stairs into the hall, I looked towards the library door. I had been informed that Michael was within with his sister and her husband. Mrs Levin came out to see me off and asked if I wanted to step in to speak with him? I shook my head.

“No. I have nothing to say. Nor does he.” I turned to that good woman who had been almost a friend to me. I held out my hand.

“Thank you Mrs Levin. Thank you for your loyal service, your kindness and your advice. If ever I can repay you, I will do so. May God bless you until we meet again.” She shook my hand with a hearty frankness.

“God bless you, my lady. May his grace give you the strength to rise once again.”

As I left the house I looked out to the left and saw the chapel with its quiet graveyard. I took a walk, aided by Father John, to visit my son’s grave for the last time.

I had expected that I should cry but my tears seemed died up. I knew that I could never again visit my son’s graveside and yet I felt nothing. I think in my heart that I had finally said goodbye to my James and I knew only his bones lay in that dark tomb. I could carry him with me in my memory instead, a better place altogether.

I asked Father John if I might take a last walk about the garden alone. I wished to say good bye to it. While he waited by the carriage I walked up towards the pond. I made a small stop at the greenhouse to say a polite farewell to the gardeners and asked if I might take a favorite plant of two with me? They hurried to obey and I took a trowel and a small box to put the plants into, refusing the help they readily offered. At the still pond I placed the box on the ground and looked about me. I found the small stone that covered the grave of Bess’s infant daughter. It was covered with leaves and I took care to leave it clean.

It did not take long to find the tiny wooden box in which the infant had been buried. It was too big to fit into the box I had been given so I cracked it open using the tip of the trowel. Inside the body had been wrapped in a shawl so I took it out still wrapped and placed it into the new box. I packed earth around it and then replaced the tomb stone where that little girl’s siblings had left it. I would place some plants in the earth about the bones as so transport her with me to my new home.

Around me the trees were full of the noise from the wind. The surface of the water was all dead leaves and debris. I peered into the depths of the pool, a fancy striking me that I might see a reflection of Bess but no, the water held no ghosts.

After digging up a rose plant and putting it into my box I bad goodbye to the gardeners and climbed into the carriage.

I had first arrived at the Hall after my wedding to see all the staff on the estate standing at the front door. I left with them peering through the windows at me, with my damaged face veiled. I left behind me the image that I had copied in wood and cloth. I never saw it again, except in my dreams.

The Tale of Father John

I was born in a small hamlet not far from this very village. My father was a miner, as was his father, and my mother was the daughter and granddaughter of miners. My parents married young and have eight children, three girls and five boys. The first two children died in infancy. The third, my sister Mary, lived and set the pattern for the following five. We all survived our babyhood and this became a problem. My father had seven mouths to feed and four of those were boys. Boys eat more than girls but are more useful as they can do heavier work. I was the third son, and expected to follow my father and two brothers into the mines. My two sisters helped my mother and took in sewing to help put food on the table.

I was seven when I started working as a trapper boy in the mines. My duty was to open and close the trap doors for the carts of coal and stone. To you know much about mining? Well, then you should know that little wheeled carts run on tracks about the mine to carry coal and stones up to the top. The miners fill these, boys push or pull them about with chains and smaller boys guard the traps to let them through. In a mine, air must be carefully allotted and so the doors are kept closed until a truck needs to pass through. Trapper boys sit still in the dark, still because they are next to the tracks and must mind they don’t lose a foot, dark because no candles can be permitted lest a fire start and candles are expensive besides.

I did not mind the work until an accident killed my older brother. He was helping on one of the mining teams which were trying to hollow out a new seam and it collapsed on top of them all. Five good men and three boys lost their lives. The mine paid out an allowance to my family for the loss of my brother and life went on. I grew a year older and was too big to be a trapper any more. I moved on to helping fill the trucks and my younger brother Tom took my place as trapper. He fell asleep after three weeks of work, fell asleep and fell across the tracks. A cart came past and killed him. Another allowance was paid by the mine for his death but my mother refused to allow me to continue working there. She would not lose another son!

She went to the priest of this very church and asked him if he would take me as an alter boy. That good man agreed and when I was not assisting in the church, I was digging his garden, looking after his horse and helping him in his parish work. It was cleaner than the mine and I had fresh air and better food. I also had access to education and I learned to read, to write and to look after the poor and sick. I wanted to get away, I had the child's vision of being a solider and yet I always wished to help others. My benefactor, Father David, suggested to my family that I go into the priesthood. He offered to sponsor me to be trained, an offer my father accepted. My oldest sister was married, my younger sister was only a child and my two remaining brothers worked for a local farmer. It was great thing to be sent away to the priesthood, I escaped the lush green hills and mountains of this district and found spires and streets and cobblestones.

In the seminary I was inspired to be a missionary and work with people abroad. Once I was priested, I left my ship to travel through Europe and down into Africa. I wandered with two fellow priests and we taught the word of God to tribes and peoples whose traditions were incomprehensible to us, as incomprehensible as we were to them.

We were led by an older priest, Father Anthony, who lectured us nightly on remembering the true God and in praying for blindness to the faults of others. The main fault in his eyes was that these tribal people wore little or no clothing, in the great heat of that climate. We had all been shocked at first but we all made efforts not to notice, especially with the women. We all prayed diligently but we were men after all and we covertly looked at these strange beings, these coloured women with skins as black as teak and smooth as marble. They stood without shame in front of us, nursing their young, talking or working or eating and we noticed their shapes and their forms. I was a young man and was filled with lust. I had been training for priesthood my whole life and never thought of taking a wife. The women I knew were all village women, dressed in wool and with their hair covered, they were modestly dressed and behaved modestly too, for the most part. Those that did not were what I was taught to preach against, sinners and whores to tempt virtuous people away from the Light. I was true to God until I saw those African women, with their fine bodies and bright eyes and their necklaces or bright fibres and stones.

We stopped to help a party of our Brothers in Christ who were building a small church in a large settlement. They had been accepted there and were teaching the young about God, amongst other things, so they wanted a proper church built. Out there in the wide landscape of Africa, I finally found peace as I laboured under that hot sun, I felt as thought I were finally doing good.

We did not keep ourselves apart from the tribe there, who were friendly to us, and we took food with them, grew to know their family’s and their young, their ways and their small farms. We taught them about Western medicine and they taught us about their natural remedies for things like the sun stroke and how to harvest herbs and plants which would save us from scorpion venom and snakes or spiders. We helped them build a proper well and irrigate their crops, they worked us a beautiful cross in bronze for our alter, their women helped to feed us and their children ran by us to try their few words of English.

In the seventh week there I began to watch a young girl who I thought more beautiful than any other. It was not that she were prettier but something about her manner, her essence, it was sublime to me. She had a wide mouth and bright eyes like her sisters, with dark hair cropped short to her skull. She wore bracelets and a neck lace of metal rings, a tunic of bright woven threads and when she passed near me I could smell her body, a musky scent that seemed as much a part of the land as the scent of the food or the plants or the earth beneath us. I covertly observed her when she was near, I watched her when she served us food or sat to listen to us preach. I thought my attention was noticed until one day when I went to rest from the heat in my hut.

My brother priests were not inside and I welcomed the quiet and the shade. I removed my clothes to my under garments and prepared to lie down and rest when a hand touched my shoulder.

The girl had followed me into the hut and was standing before me. I had never before been alone with any woman excepting my mother or sisters and this was enough to shock me dreadfully. That both of us were nearly naked was also a shock. That she touched me was a third. It was just my bare shoulder but it felt as though I were being burned by her warm fingers. I tried to stay calm, to ask what she wanted but my voice failed me and my knowledge of the language was gone. I just looked at her. She looked at me fearlessly and gently touched my face, then took my hands and examined them. Roughened by heavy work, they were, but she seemed to approve the,. She examined the lines on my palms and the muscles in my arms. She looked up at my face and smiled, showing white teeth in the dark of her face.

When one of my fellow priests came in, she quickly ran out. Nothing had happened but to my brothers and myself that did not matter. There was a solemn meeting that evening and it was decided to send me to work with another party of missioners further north. The next day I set out at dawn carrying a letter to the man in charge there. I never knew what it said but he welcomed me kindly, heard my confession and placed me to work with others teaching young boys about the gospel. After a month of this I was sent to a new country to the East, a mountain region which was cold and so everyone was well wrapped up. I taught the word of God there diligently, I never returned to Africa or did I ever see that woman again. After my indiscretion I redoubled my efforts to trust in the Lord and do his work. I pressed the memory of her deep down inside myself and thought I had forgotten. That is, until one winter, years later, when I was travelling through a rocky pass to reach a strong hold and I was caught by a blizzard. I was one of a party of travellers, the others were villagers and we were forced to take refuge from the storm in a cave. We stayed there for a full day and a night. I moved among the other, praying with them and assisting those that were frightened. I came at last to one man who sat by himself from the group, seemingly deep in silent prayer. I sat near him and looked about the cave, watching for anyone who might need my guidance when the man spoke.

This man was apparently a seasoned traveller, who had taken this road many times and he was not frightened by the storm. He was an Italian by birth but he spoke English to me. He asked me why I was so restless. I was surprised, I explained I was simply watching for distress in any of the others but the Italian shook his head and said that I was just trying to escape my own thoughts. I was a priest, did I believe in divine providence? Well, then this break in my journey was providence. God wanted me to sit a while and think.

I considered this and asked his meaning. He explained that he had observed me and that I was always moving, always looking after others but that there was something in me which he recognised from his own experience as a young man. He saw that I was running from something. I denied this, I told him I was a missionary but he shook his head again and insisted that I was surely running from something if I could not sit and use a few hours for quiet meditation. He did mean I should pray but that I should use this God given moment, this time away from the world, to meditate on all that occurred to me.

I was silent. I had been so careful to be busy, to not think of that woman or of my shame at being sent away from Africa that I had constantly worked, day and night. I had not let myself sleep more than four hours a night, I had prayed early and late, I had fasted at times to make myself obedient. I finally allowed my mind to go blank and let my thoughts travel across my mind. I allowed myself to think of that woman, in her beauty. I let myself feel the shame of disgrace and the sadness at leaving my family and the distance I had gone from home. In that little cave in the middle of nowhere, with the wind and snow whirling around outside while we puny creatures cowered inside, in that cave I finally shed my petty ways and my shame. I let myself feel and then asked what harm had it done. In each category except one, I had done no harm so I offered a prayer to God and gave up my sins.

When we left the cave and got to our destination I asked the Italian who he was and how he had known me. His response was that I should learn a little from the natives, as well as giving our my own religion. He turned me to face the mountains. There you see what your God has made. It can unmake a man with ease. It will not be unmade because you take a little time for yourself, if you eat a good supper or take a woman. The mountains and the skies will not fall if you commit a sin. It is your own perception of what you have done that makes it seem as if the world is undone. You look upon the world and want to change it. I say, look upon the world and try to work with it and understand it. Only then can you see what truly needs changing and what truly is a sin.

As he walked away, his last words told me to always remember to take a little time to think. I took time over the next weeks. I took time to watch and learn from the natives as well as teaching them the gospel. I noticed how they looked after animals and crops even high in the mountains. I noticed how they worked together and helped each other. I grew to love their rough rocky land as they did and in doing so, I became home sick.

I travelled back across the continent until I entered Europe. I travelled across Europe and boarded a boat that took me home to England. I had written to the diocese of my home parish and they had offered me to take the role of Deacon in this church. I had been working for the Lord for so long that my service would be useful, my reputation was good and my home land welcomed me. I travelled to this place and went to the little house where my family had lived.

My father had been killed in a cave in, my mother was dead of tuberculosis. My older sister had five children, my younger had two. My brother had left many years before to work as a farmer and he still lives down near the coast. I had missed so much while I was away but I was resolved not to feel sad. I told tales of Africa and India, of my travels but all the while I delighted in green grass and mountains, in rain and in the quiet parish work. I worked with the resident priest and used my knowledge of other mountain dwellers to help the people here to better themselves. Now I am the priest, I enjoy a good dinner, I enjoy a cup of tea and a welsh cake by the fireside. I enjoy my garden and my vegetable patch and my church. I am comfortable and at home. I enjoy life. I do not judge others harshly, I caution them rarely. Mistakes are how you find the true desire of your heart and how you temper your soul to be pure.

Not a day has gone by that I do not remember that beautiful woman, that emblem of Africa that still I see in my dreams. I am sure I shall see her in my mind every day until I die. Yet I do not regret meeting her. I do not feel torment in not kissing her or for not taking her to wife. I thank God for her, for she showed me the path to true knowledge. She was no demon sent to tempt me, she was a beacon on my road to light. She was a girl and I am a man. I have had tender feelings for her, yes, very tender. My feelings for my work are more so and my feelings for the people here are infinitely greater. I love my countrymen best, my country of green and stone. She belongs in Africa, the wide hot sands. So she stands in my mind, my private treasure. In my Welsh parlour by the fire side I remember her and say a quiet prayer to God, of thanks for showing me the way.

The priest paused and looked back at me, while he told his story he had been staring at the fire.

“What I think I am trying to tell you is, see things for the good in them rather than the bad. If you are here it is because this is what you have to do in order to find your peace. I know that for a priest to say that sin is a good thing may sound strange but we cannot learn, unless we sin, what we should really do with our lives.”

I was silent. For all my life I had tried to do good yet when I did wrong, I had started a chain of events which had taken me away from my old stagnation and brought me away from my torpor. I was wounded but alive. I had my child inside me and I was alive. I was no longer trapped in a beautiful cage.

Father John took my hand kindly and then placed his other hand on my head.

“Do you truly repent of any harm you may have caused to others? Do you understand what you have done wrong and vow to learn from these mistakes? Then I forgive you and absolve you of these sins. Now, sleep. Your mind is weary and your body needs its rest. I shall come again tomorrow. Bless you, daughter.” And so he rose and left me.

Father John was well liked in the parish, he was kind, educated and friendly yet he was also a local man. He had gone away to train as a priest and had served as a missionary for ten years before coming back to take up the position of deacon at the same church where he had been an alter boy. He had lived in the priest's house with the then Father Peter who was in his sixtieth year. The priests house had a small but pretty flower garden in front, a kitchen garden behind and he often could be found, when off duty, hoeing the potato patch or seeing to the produce. When Father Peter had suffered a slight stroke and decided to retire, Father John had taken his place as Priest in our parish. His first act had been to buy, with the diocese’s money, a large plot of land for the poorer family’s to use as a kitchen garden of their own. The land had come with an old barn which Father John had renovated to use as a small alms house for the least fortunate of the community, which also served as a charitable hospital facility. He went twice a week to the small school to teach and was regarded as a true benefit to the area. My late father in law had enjoyed his company and he had often been invited up to the Hall for dinner and to talk with Lord Robert after the meal. Father John was forty, with a short frame and rather round, though not fat. His face, with its full cheeks and his smile which was that of a choir boy, made him seem young and added to the illusion of roundness. His dark hair was always kept neatly brushed and his dark eyes were kept covered by little round spectacles. Because of these and his priests robes I had often thought he looked rather like a kindly mole.

He now came in quietly, shut the door and sat beside my bed. He took my hand gently and felt my pulse. Once assured that it was steady he asked me what he could do for me. As a member of the clergy who was used to visiting the sick, he did not flinch from looking at my face. I asked if he would hear confession from me. He nodded and sat waiting.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have been guilty of the sin of vanity. I looked in the glass for the first time not half an hour ago and I could only think of how hideous I am now and how people will think of me.”

“I think that no sin in a woman who has been suddenly wounded as you have been. It is only natural to mourn the loss of your eye, I would say it is healthy too. It would be more unnatural for you to be unmoved by the change.” His voice was quiet and soothing. It made me want to have him hold me, to comfort me further thought I knew he never would. I was silent and he spoke again.

“I do not think you have committed the sin of vanity. However I do think that you feel you ave committed some other sin, more shameful than that, which you wish to tell me of and which troubles you much. Speak of it, I pray you, relieve your soul. We will be undisturbed.”

His kindness and perception made me feel even more ashamed of myself. This quiet, good man, a former missionary and a priest who had dedicated his life to doing good. How could he possibly forgive my crimes? He seemed to read my thoughts.

“You think I will not understand, that your sins have been too great? My daughter, I have travelled far from this green land and heard many hundred sins from all people. I assure you that I will not judge you. That is between you and the Holy Father above. As his advocate here, I again ask that you give up your sins to me. It will ease your mind of the burden it carries.”

These words softened my pride. I finally managed to begin.

“Father I think that my punishment, my loss of looks is punishment from God. I have been guilty of...of many things and at last I have been struck down in a way that I shall carry my whole life. This past year a man entered our family circle as a trusted servant and was treated with equality by all of us at the Hall. He showed interest in me beyond that of friendship, I was a silly girl and flattered by his interest in me. I succumbed to lust and not once but many times. We used the trust and time alone to have carnal knowledge of each other and though his interest waned the deed was done.” I stopped, out of breath, tears stinging my cheeks. The priest gently wiped away my tears with a handkerchief. His bright eyes looked into my dark one.

“My lady, let me ask a question of you. Is that child in your womb begot of your husband or of this other man? No, do not answer. I see that it is so. Let me ask another question then. Did your husband know of this affair and was this what lead to your injury’s?”

I nodded.

“He did not know until that night when he beat me. Before then he had just suspected and had kept me upstairs for months because I displeased him. He did not like me doing work in the community, he did not like how I had become so close to his mother in place of his sister and he seemed to change in his perception of me when our son died. It was that which made him keep me out of sight but the man, Michael, he wrote to me and begged my forgiveness because he is to marry, will have married by now and he wanted to apologise. My husband read the letter and then he.....he came to my room and sent everyone away. He beat me and then he....he whipped me. He was like a man possessed. He.....he....he was.....” I could not carry on, the memory of that day, the pain and the fear were too much. Father John leaned forward.

“And had he behaved like that before? Had he, at any time, shown violence towards you?” I remembered that night when he had raped me, months ago. The way his eyes had been wild and how he had seemed like a stranger. I told the priest of this and he shook his head.

“The actions of a very disturbed soul. Some times a man can be calm and reasonable in all things but a sudden loss of control and he behaves like a beast. It is in his blood sometimes. Your husband's great grandfather was also such a man. He had a lot of the beast in him. He was a soul in torment, may the Father judge him justly. I think that your husband may have a touch of it too. Might I ask, how did he come to read your letter?” I considered this and realised I did not know. It had been addressed to me, how had Michael come to open it? Father John shook his head again.

“I fancy that someone must have opened your letter and shown it to him. It was not in his habits to open your letters was it? No, I see not. So someone else must have been opening your letters, waiting for this chance. It was not God who has punished you but another. Put thoughts of that out of your head. My daughter, you have committed sins against your husband. He has punished you himself rather than turn to the law. The law is changing. In the past hundred years it has changed much and I think it will continue to do so. The law can now protect you against violence. I will not pretend to understand the law. I will ask only that you tell me the truth so that I can advise you in a spiritual way.” I nodded. I felt like a child before this man.

“My daughter, do you repent of the sin of adultery? Do you truly repent and wish to redeem yourself? Then tell it true. Why did you break with your marriage vow and turn to another man?”

For the first time I let my head go blank. I let my words free. I was tired of keeping everything hidden.

“Because I was lonely. Because I was bored. Because I did not love my husband and because I knew I could not have the life with him that I wanted.” The priest's voice was gentle.

“What life did you want?”

“One of love and companionship. One where I would love and be loved truly for who I am. One where I knew my husband inside and out, as he knew me. One where I was no longer alone.”

The priest shook his head.

“So many marry for those reasons. What did you find when you were his wife?”

“That life was the same as before yet now I had a ring on my finger. It did not change me. I was still alone. I was just expected to obey my husband instead of my father.”

The priest was silent for a while. He stared into the middle distance, looking at nothing. He seemed to shake himself and turn to me again.

“Freedom seems to be the thought which reigns uppermost in your mind. I think you are like a caged bird that tears at its own plumage and breaks its wings on the bars of its cage rather than resign itself to captivity. I ask myself, how much would you sacrifice to be free? Your beauty? Your rank? Your life?”

I looked at him, with my remaining eye and could only whisper that I would give all of this and more. It was the truth. I would give anything to be free. He did not turn away again. He kept my gaze and imprisoned me in his honest dark orbs.

“Your life, then. There are some birds that do this too, did you know this? Some birds can never be caged because they will dash themselves against the bars or starve to death rather than stay a prisoner. The type known as a Red Cardinal, for example. Freedom is a powerful elixir and one can chase it all one's life but never find it. Only a slight taste can be obtained.”

I had to interject.

“By men. Only men can taste this elixir, it seems. Women can never reach it.” The priest held up a hand.

“Not so. We can all chase after what we want, if we choose. Most find that they prefer their prisons, however. The prison of marriage or society or etiquette or class. Instead they find a way to feel freedom, by finding happiness in other things. In family, in children, in drink or travel or food. Most of these seem sinful but then we are selfish creatures and created imperfect.”

“I had those things. I had money and rank, I had a husband and a fine home. I had a beautiful son and should have been happy. Now my son is dead, my husband despises me, I will be cast out of society if any know my sins and my face is ruined forever.” I spoke bitterly, I felt the injustice of life pressing on me. I could never feel freedom as a man could, even as a priest could, who was created to serve!

“You are a priest and have spent your life serving the Lord yet you have travelled far and wide, you have tasted freedom and now have elected to be here in this remote place. How can you understand my feelings?” The sad look was back in his eyes as he held mine.

“Is that what you think? That I am free? Well, it may be that you are right but not for the reasons you think. Do you like story’s, Imogen?” His question surprised me as did the use of my name. I could only nod my head like a dumb animal. Father John considered me for a moment and then poured me a glass of the spiced wine which was before the fire. He took a glass himself and settled himself again in the chair beside my bed.

“Let me tell you a story then. It is one which has never been told before except in part to my own confessor. Listen and consider it.”

I was running through the house with the flames chasing me. I tried to scream for Bess but I could not find my voice and I was choking on the smoke. Fire was in every room and filling up the corridors behind me. I could hear Michael with his whip and Victoria telling me to die alone. I could see no way out and no hope of finding shelter from the terrible fate of burning to death. I fell and the heat increased, the pain grew worse and now I was utterly blind. I was surrounded by heat and pain and terror and my screams fell silent on the burning air.....

Cool hands on my arm, supporting me. A cold cloth against my burning forehead. Water was raised to my lips and I drank, a flowing icy stream. It soothed my fevered sobs and eased the ache in my chest. I heard voices, low and murmuring. I tried to open my eyes but found them both stuck closed. I reached to my face and felt my hand caught by another, cool and smooth. I started to struggle and then a voice I knew well came to me through my fear.

“Rest, my lady. You are safe and in good hands. Your wounds have been dressed and you need not touch to know that the dressings cover your eyes. Rest, my lady, I am with you and no one will hurt you now.”

Nurse Ruth! Good Ruth Riley, beside my bed. I gripped her hand gratefully and sobbed again, this time with relief. I let the woman sooth me and put me back on my pillows. I felt her tuck the coverlet around me again. Her cool hands felt my forehead and then she gently sponged my brow again, easing the horrid fever which I felt gripping me. Gradually I slipped back down into sleep.

The house was empty, empty of furniture and empty of life. I went through every room, they were scorched and blackened. No one was there and no one answered my calls. I could open no windows or doors that were shut. I was alone in the vast empty hall. The silence was more terrifying than the noise of the flames had been. I began to shiver as it grew cold and dark outside and then I could find no candle. In the pitch black I could not find my way so I groped for the wall to help me. My fingers touched stone and moss and there was a sudden stench of decay and mould and damp. There was no air, it was dank and stifling. I was shivering and I desperately fumbled to find a light, a sign of where I was and then I knew.

I was in the tomb. My sons body and Rhiannon's and all the rest of the Llewellyn's lay dead around me. I was paralysed with fear and could no longer move. I had been buried alive with the dead. I was beginning to die when I suddenly caught sight of the merest spark. A tiny flare of silver in the emptiness of black and I moved towards it. I tried to catch it and it grew brighter and larger. When I reached it, I found it was over my little boy's coffin, glowing and shimmering like an angel fire in that dreadful place. I could catch it in my hands and let it warm me. As I took it, it became larger still and I found it growing limbs and a face and then my boy, my James was in my arms! Silver glowing and cool but there, laughing and smiling at me.

I held him close and kissed his cheeks. I felt a touch from behind me and then Bess was at my elbow, her smile like a diamond and her eyes like stars.

“My dearest friend. I thought I was dead. I thought I was buried alive!” I told her and she shook her head. Taking James from my arms, she smiled and softly the two of them faded into blackness. With them gone, my light was gone too and I tried to follow but the darkness was like loose drapery around me, it tripped me and I stumbled, I fell into echoing darkness......

Again I woke and again I felt my forehead touched. Now I was shivering, unable to feel the slightest warmth from the covers that lay about me, too tight and con-straining my legs. I heard the voices again and then they became separate and I discerned Nurse Ruth and my maid, Anna.

“Get some more hot bottles, girl. Fetch up some more covers too, the fever has broken. It is aright, my lady, lie still and I will take care of you.” I felt her competent hands remove the covers which felt damp, with sweat I realised. I was lifted from the bed and placed on a chair, near the hearth- I felt the heat from the fire.

My night gown was removed and I was sponged with warm water then dried and helped into a clean gown which smelt like soap and lavender. My bed had been remade and I was assisted to lie back on the soft pillows with fresh covers and a hot water bottle at my feet. The cold which had woken me was chased back and I sighed with relief. Without any sight I could only guess but I knew Anna and Nurse Ruth were in the room. I tried to ask and the answer came.

“Aye, my lady, that is right. Think you that you could take a little more sleep? It is only four in the morning.”

I was already slipping back into sleep and this time, there were no more dreams, just rest and a great span of emptiness which was somehow soothing. When I awoke next, I knew it was day. I could hear noises from the street outside, carts and footsteps. I tried to call out and at once I heard Nurse Ruth speak.

“Don’t you fret, my lady, all is well. It is ten in the morning now and a new day. Wait one moment and I shall lift you up on your pillows.” So saying, she helped me to rise and plump the pillows behind my back so that I was sat up. She offered me some milk with honey and some herbs in then touched my forehead. It was a little hot, she told me, but nothing to worry over. I had given them all a good scare but the fever had finally broken.

Finally? I asked her and was stunned by the answer I received. I had been ill for a full week!

“A fever, my lady, caused by your wounds, I suppose. It has broken at last though.” My hands next clutched at my belly, at the roundness there.

“Do not you fret, my lady, it is all well. The babe is quiet now but has been moving a goodly amount. All is well, I am sure. Lie still, I will fetch the doctor. He stepped out for a moment but I think I hear him come back in now.” And I heard her move, heard the noses of the chair against the floor, wooden boards, then her steps across and away. The quiet noises from outside and the noises of the house seemed like the sweetest melody after the silence that I had felt engulfing me for so long.

Now I heard two people come back in. A heavier tread announced that Daniel, Dr Crowner, was one of the two. I reached out a hand into the space that was towards the sounds and I felt cool strong fingers take mine. I heard his beloved voice.

“How do you feel? Not tired now? Good. Your fever has broken and the infection has been chased away. Let me change your dressings, I must inspect the wounds.” And I was lifted and supported by Nurse Ruth as Daniel unbound the wrappings about my face. The fresh air on my skin felt good but still the ache from my left side was terrible. Daniel's fingers touched the flesh gentle and prodded about my cheek and around my temple. I kept my eyes closed while he examined me.

“I think that the swelling from the lower area of the face has certainly gone down a little. As for the rest, time will tell. There is no sign of mortification around the area which is good. I think I shall only redress that part of the face, the skin needs air to breath and to heal.” So saying, I felt clean dressings be bound to the wounds which covered the left half of my face from temple to half way down my cheek. Once this was done I opened my eyes.

The light from the window was dazzling at first but after the motes in the sunshine stopped dancing in my eyes, I could see I was in a small, neat room. Plain white walls, a beamed ceiling and a little fireplace. A chest beyond the bed for clothes, a cross on the far wall and a neat little bed which I was laid in. Nurse Ruth was sat to my right in her usual garb, Daniel was on my left. He gestured to Nurse to take the bowl of dirty dressings and such downstairs and be rid of them. Could she also make up some broth and perhaps some bread also? Some light food to start with would be beneficial. Meanwhile he would have some talk with me.

Nurse Ruth gathered everything up and went out, we sat quiet until her footsteps had died away and then Daniel turned to me, took my hands in his and kissed them passionately.

“My dearest! I would kiss your face but it would only hurt you and you have endured enough pain! How glad I am that you are awake. It has been a long week full of difficulties and there were moments when I feared that you would not live to know them.” I asked him, more easily now that the dressings were off my lower face, where I was.

“You are in the priest's house. This is his spare bedroom, he himself sleeps across the hall and Nurse Riley has been staying here too. Anna as well. They have been taking it in turns to sit with you while the other sleeps upstairs.”

I asked how I had come to be here. Daniel pursed his lips but began to tell me. He first asked what I remembered. My recollections were confused but I did remember being on the drive of the house then seeing him arrive in his dog cart. He nodded.

“That was where I found you. I had seen Mrs Levin earlier in the day and she had given me your note. I went to consult with Father John before I came to the hall. I wish I had not waited. I was called away suddenly to see to the comfort of an elderly patient and when I arrived back I found one of the grooms from the hall on my doorstep. The man was earnestly worried. He was sent by the servants at the house who knew that some sort of grave altercation had occurred and that you were in dire need of a doctor but that the master wouldn’t allow one to be called. The man begged me to come to the hall myself and speak with Lord Llewellyn, so I drove us both up to the hall where we found you laid out on the drive way with a grievous injury to your face and in a fever. I got you back to the village and took you to Father John as the most proper place for you to stay was with the priest. He had this room prepared and word sent to Ruth Riley and Anna to come and attend you. Before they arrived I did what I could for your face and have only left to catch some sleep or see other patients.” I had begun to shake at the memory of that last walk down the drive of the house. Daniel wrapped a shawl about my shoulders and served me some mulled wine. As I drank he told me the rest of the story of what had happened that week.

“Even as I was dressing your wounds, there were men sent down from the hall asking after you. One was your brother in law,the other one of the house men. They knew you must have been taken to the priest, if you had been taken anywhere. Father John refused to let them see you or take you away and they rode away. Half an hour later, Lord Llewellyn came back with them himself and insisted on coming in, with the intention of taking you away. At this point, Nurse Ruth arrived and I was able to come down and speak on your behalf.

Father and I told him that you were terrible ill, that you had a fever and had needed surgery to repair some of the damage to your face. He was unmoved and it took all of Father John's weight in the town to stop him from forcing his way up to claim you. In the end we called for the village policeman and he has instructed that no one be allowed in to see you until you are fit enough. Since then your husband has remained up at the hall and no more attempts have been made to move you. Oh my love, my sweetheart, I am so glad to hear your voice!” And he pressed my fingers again and kissed them, each one in turn. I longed for him to hold me but he did not come close. I asked next after my injury’s. He looked at me with deep sorrow in every line of his face.

“There will be scarring across your cheek. You have lost your left eye. I did what I could but the wound was a deep one. I hear that Mrs Levin tried to do what she could as well but it needed a surgeon. How did it happen?” He explained that he had not heard the full tale as the groom from the hall had only known that there had been an accident and that no one had been allowed to see to me.

When I told him what had been done he became still as a statue. He kept hold of my hand but his fingers did not move. I tried to have him look at me but he would not. After a while he got up and told me he had to think a while. I heard him go downstairs and then the front door opened and closed. Nurse Ruth came in with some food for me but my stomach was twisting with worry. The good nurse was having none of it though and insisted on my drinking up all of the broth. I had gone a week without much to sustain me and she would not see me or the baby come to harm. I asked her where the doctor had gone and she shrugged.

Once I had finished the broth, I felt tired again, unaccountably. I lay back on the pillows and Nurse Ruth sat back on her chair and began to knit as she used to. The clicking of her needles and the soft noises of the flickering fire and the trundle of carts outside made me drowsy and I lapsed into sleep.

I awoke a few hours later, to see Anna had taken Ruth's place at my side. She helped me to sit up and brought me some sort of sweetened posset, thick and nourishing, tasting of brandy and vanilla and cream. She explained that I was yet too weak for solid food so the doctor had instructed her to make up different possets to strengthen me. I was to be allowed proper food in a day or so. I asked after Daniel and she said quietly that he was downstairs with Nurse and Father John and two men. I asked who the men were and she told me that one was a stranger but the other was the village policeman.

As if on cue there was a knock on the door. Nurse Ruth came in and stepped up to the bed.

“My lady, Dr Crowner has returned but is currently engaged in some business downstairs. He has brought Constable James as well as the local magistrate. I am afraid that they will need to speak with you as soon as you are strong enough. They would have asked to come up and see you now but I said I could not hear of it unless I first saw that you were willing and well enough for that.”

I thought a moment. I felt refreshed from my nap but my wounds ached terribly now that sleep was gone. Nurse gave me a dose of something then carefully undid my dressings and washed the swollen left side of my face. After cleaning it carefully with cool water she rubbed a salve over some of the areas which became cooler on the instant. Once this was done I felt a little better. I asked her what I would have to do. She explained that the men needed to see me and speak with me, in the presence of herself, the doctor and Father John, to hear about how I had come to be so injured. The purpose of this was to prevent my husband from taking me by force and to protect me from future violence. I needed to tell them what I could, as honestly as possible. I need not make a long tale out of it today but they needed to hear it from my lips and see me for themselves. Helping me to sit up and pumping the pillows against my back, she sent Anna out to ask the gentlemen to step into my room.

Father John came in first, straight to my side and gently placing his hand on my head to bless me. He did not wince at seeing my wounds and his eyes met mine as kindly as they ever had. Next to come in was the Constable, I had met him only twice before but he was known to be a genial and fair man, on good terms with most. He came in and looked me in the eye, but I saw that his face twitched as he saw my injury’s and his lips had compressed somewhat. The magistrate, who I knew better and who had often been to dinner at the Hall in former times, came in and openly started at the sight of me. He controlled himself with an effort but his eyes were deeply troubled and he was visibly upset by my appearance. I wondered, owlishly, just how bad the damage to my face was. I had not considered it until then, possibly because those around me had not mentioned any particulars and because I had more to worry over. Daniel came in last. His face was a stern and closed as it had been the last time I had seen him.

Grouped in a semi circle about my bed, the gentlemen assembled. As the most senior man in the room, the magistrate could have been expected to lead the talking but he seemed genuinely upset enough to warrant the Constable to speak first. The man licked his lips, produced a note pad and pencil and began.

“I apologise, Lady Llewellyn, for this intrusion but it is necessary to do this now rather than at a later date. Dr Crowner has brought this matter to the attention of myself and Magistrate Phillips, and so we have come to try and understand certain facts.” He licked his lips again and proceeded after looking towards Phillips who still looked overcome.

“Dr Crowner asserts that these injury’s to your face and the resulting illness that you have been suffering under were caused by your husband, Lord Llewellyn. That your husband intended to cause you harm and that he struck you in the face with...with a whip and that he then would not allow a medical person to be called to you. That you managed to escape the Hall with the aid of the house keeper and that he found you and brought you here, to be nursed under the protection of Father John. Is any of this true?” I nodded. Constable James nodded as well, wrote a little in his note book and looked towards Magistrate Phillips who stirred himself and did his best to smile kindly at me. It was clearly his turn to speak.

“My dear lady, I have known you some little time and I beg you to understand that we do not wish to tire you but in a matter this serious, it is important that we get some facts from yourself. I must ask first, what were the circumstances in which Lord Llewellyn and yourself came to disagreement?”

Nurse Ruth gave me a sip of water and I cleared my throat.

“We had been in disagreement for some time. There have been some troubles in the family, the deaths of the late Lord Richard, his wife and..and our son. We had not been...that is, we had been spending much of our time apart for some months.” Daniel broke in.

“As I think I informed you, gentlemen, Lady Llewellyn had been segregated from the rest of the house, was banished to the upper storey and was scarcely allowed out unless escorted by a most disreputable woman who was charged with guarding her.” Magistrate Phillips shot him a shocked glance but the constable seemed less surprised. The older man spoke.

“Is this the truth of it, my lady?” I nodded. He looked still more shocked and probed further.

“Is there anyone else, besides yourself and Dr Crowner, who can testify to this?” At this Nurse Ruth spoke.

“Beg your pardon, but I can. I was dismissed from nurse to this lady in favour of another woman who could not be honoured with that same title. Before then, her Ladyship was certainly kept apart from the rest of the house and was not allowed to come downstairs.” Daniel continued for her.

“The testimony of the servants at the Hall can also be counted on, I am sure. It was no secret in this parish that His Lordship and Lady Llewellyn had been estranged for a time and that she was being treated most cruelly.” At this the constable raised his head from his note pad, where he had been writing.

“At this point, it is best to stick to facts, Doctor. Without a lawyer present, it is best that facts be stuck to, especially when it involves a powerful and respected man such as his Lordship. However I can certainly say that I had heard that her Ladyship was being kept under lock and key, as you might say.” He looked towards Phillips again and the older man leaned forward.

“Lock and key? Do you mean to say that her Ladyship has been detained? I thought that it was merely to allow for her delicate health that she was kept to the house.”

I shook my head and the pain lanced up my cheek, making me gasp. Nurse Ruth put a hand on my shoulder and gave me another sip of wine. She looked meaningfully at Father John who turned to the rest and quietly said that I was becoming very tired and could this conversation please wait until I was more recovered? Perhaps in a day or two, I would be able to speak at length but just now I was too unwell for a long audience. Phillips nodded with relief and the Constable shut up his note book, gave me a little bow and said he would made a time to come and see me when I was feeling better. He went on to assure me that my peace would not be disturbed and that he had himself spoken with my husband and told him to keep away.

Phillips then kissed my hand, told me that he was grieved to see my suffering and that he would also return once I was better. He went away quickly with the policeman following. Father John stepped away from my bed to allow Daniel and Nurse Ruth to tend to me. My face hurt terribly, my baby was kicking my ribs and I suddenly felt a wave of nausea that threatened to choke me. Nurse Ruth instantly spotted this and told me that it was hunger. A good sign that I was returning to health. Father John undertook to go below and have food prepared for me while cooling lotions were used on my face. Daniel would have spoken to me about the meeting some more but Nurse Ruth told him sternly that I had been through quite enough that day. He should go attend to his other patients and leave her in charge of me.

Once he was gone, she called for Anna. Between the two of them they ran a bath of warm water and while I luxuriated in it, Anna stripped the bed and remade it fresh. Nurse Ruth helped me into new night clothes, then took charge of my dinner. I was given a large bowl of thick lamb stew, full of chunks of meat and vegetables. I had eaten so little for so long that the rush of starvation made me eat quickly and Ruth made me slow down by talking to me. I finished the entire bowl and wiped it clean with a slice of thick fresh bread. Mrs McKinley came in to remove my tray and she greeted me kindly and composedly. I praised her cooking and she smiled with pleasure and told me that I must do her justice by showing a good appetite for all she made. Once she was gone I felt well enough to want to sit up a while so Anna sat and talked with me while Nurse Ruth made up a posset on the fire, the same thick concoction she had given me before.

I asked what it was, she told me eggs, cream, honey, brandy, some herbs and spices. It was a warming drink, with many nutrients, commonly used in patients recovering from fever or wasting illnesses. She sternly saw every drop swallowed then commanded that I sleep again. I dosed off in the darkened room until late evening.

This time Anna was alone by the fire, carefully reading a romance periodical. She had some tea prepared for me and some fresh welsh cakes from Mrs McKinley. Without Nurse Ruth, who was asleep upstairs, Anna finally seemed to have courage to ask me what had happened. I told her some of it but not all. I still feared to think of the whole story. I noticed that Anna did not seem to like looking directly at me. Was I so hideous? I put the question and the girl went quiet. I asked again, trying to make light of what we both knew could not be made light of. Anna seemed to take her courage in both hands and give me her response.

“You don’t exactly look how you used to, my lady, not a bit. I was told I mustn’t let you see your reflection but I think it's right for you to know the truth.” And she got up and fetched a small hand mirror which lay on the dresser. Undoing the dressings, she gave it to me and I raised it to my face.

I had not been nearly prepared for the shock of what I saw. The entire left side of my face swollen and an angry red. The lower part was mostly alight, but the upper was destroyed. A scar ran from my temple across my eye which had been carefully sewn closed but I could see that there was just an empty socket behind that flap of skin. The red gash ran down to the middle of my cheek and stopped, it was quite straight apart from the crooked start and it made a trail over that part of my face. The stitches which held the wound closed made the damage look worse that it probably was, distorting the skin with black strokes and the entire left side of my face was raised and bloated. The right hand side looked as if it belonged to another person. In the glass, my remaining eye looked dull and lifeless, the tissue beneath was a black ring. In contrast to the violent left, the right was ghastly pale and pinched looking. My dark hair made the colour of my skin look more extreme. I stared at myself with horror.

Even once the swelling was gone, even when the stitches were removed I would still be scarred. My eye was utterly gone. I had never been beautiful but at least I had been whole. Now there was no hiding that my face was different. There would be no hiding from the shame that I had brought on myself.