BLUEBELLS FOR MY BABY

1867

The last flush of sunlight faded across the damask sky.  A drowsy warmth settled as the day drifted into early evening, forming a heady scent of lilac with its perfumed pungent odour. Swifts dipped and turned, gathering food as the distant parish bells peeled. A final fluted song from a robin filled the lush green hedgerow that was awash with droplets of hawthorn. Tall pine trees surrounded the dell protecting all that dwelled before them, exuding the area with an earthy resinous smell. A sharp bark from the fox stirred Alice as she awoke from her blissful though unexpected slumber.

She lay on her back amidst a surrounding bed of vibrant bluebells.  The delicate wind embraced the tiny bells that danced rhythmically in unison with the rippling church bells. A stream of light circled her head like a halo as she stared up at the final bursts of sunshine. Trying to shake the final threads of sleep, Alice strained her eyes to see the fragments of cirrus clouds, trying to place images from the dispersing vapours. She found nothing, only wisps of billowing white smudges wafting away from her.

She thought of Hugh. How he tenderly kissed her, and how his penetrating eyes held her gaze as he made love to her so delicately. She had never experienced such rapture as his body joined hers. Her tender age of sixteen was of no importance to her at that time, the world stood still, suspended in a moment of complete euphoria, joy and exhilaration. If only the moment had lasted.

Hugh had indeed impregnated her, his seed was sown, and now it grew within her like a treasured gift from god. She stroked her womb where the foetus snugly had settled inside her.

Now it was time to tell her mother.

The very notion filled her with a dread so foreboding, that she would come to the Dell as she did today, to try and find the will and courage to face her stern and unapproachable mother.  Getting to her feet, she brushed down her cream skirts that now were stained with the grass from which he had lain; Alice tried to smooth the creases, pressing hard on the starchy fabric.  Strays of honey and chestnut wisps from her carefully braided hair had come away from the burgundy bow that her nanny had tied so neatly earlier that morning. The early evening radiance that filled the Dell, had given Alice the inspiration and hope to tell her mother the truth, that she was in love, and pregnant. She was going to tell her that she intended to move into the village and marry Hugh, where they would live peacefully with their new baby.

 Adjusting her petticoats, Alice walked toward the manor house that loomed regally on the cusp of the Bluebell Dell. The house was of a severe and austere structure, but Alice loved her home. Her sanctuary however was the Dell, but her home made her feel like a queen.  She was proud that her father had been a wealthy Doctor, and had left them this house after his untimely death.  Many a time she would run down the halls of the stately house, imagining herself as a Russian dancer. She would pirouette through the empty corridors, and then finally fall in love with her imaginary partner. The only thing that stopped her from being completely happy and at ease was her mother.

  She walked purposefully though apprehensively, to face the consequence of her actions. She had one thing that she could hold on to, she had the love for Hugh, and her baby that was now embe dded in her belly, but also in her heart and soul.  Nothing could take that away from her, nothing.

                                        *****

Beatrice sat at her occasional table holding an eyeglass to her eye. The letter in her hand shook slightly. With an air of irritation, she abruptly shuffled the letter back into the pile of letters that needed her attention.  She heard the wooden door close quietly, tentatively.