The Admiral's Wife

Chapter Five

This weeks art work: The Admiralty House in Halifax, Nova Scotia

Hamilton Country Estate, Nova Scotia

Present Day

"Oh Mary!" exclaimed Jo, looking positively devastated from where she sat in the faded green armchair in the corner of the library. "How utterly impossible! You married the Admiral, and all the while William was still alive!"

"Yes," replied Mary. She was moving about the room—unsettled—near the fire and then at the window. A glittering wraith fluttering first here and then there, a small but sad smile playing around her mouth. "It wasn't the same then you see as it is in these modern times. You couldn't just pick up a telephone and call to say all was well. As far as I knew, William was—dead."

The last word came forth on a breath, a whisper floating in the air between them. A heart-rending almost imperceptible sound, as if it still pained her to speak of it. It held all the heartache that Mary had felt at the time of her loss. She wrung her hands, and then rubbed the pale palms together before touching her slender fingers to her mouth in a tragic gesture. "And I... well, I was with child." And of course, that explained everything. She'd had to act quickly to secure the child's future.

"Oh hon." Jo was watching her with a stricken look upon her face, eyes filled with deep sympathy. "How absolutely dreadful for you!"

"I was fortunate," insisted Mary, realistically. "Fortunate enough to marry a good man, who was willing to take on a ruined woman, and a child who was not his own." She stilled. "Aaron was very good to me, and we got on very well in the days after our marriage and during my confinement. He made no demands on me, save my company." She looked pointedly at Jo, who immediately nodded in understanding. "In my seventh month he became ill. He came down with a terrible ague and was doing very poorly. He developed a cough that would not heal nor stop and which soon confined him to his bed. The doctor could seem to do nothing for him and winter was fast approaching." Mary's eyes held a faraway look, gazing to the past. "The doctor finally recommended that he seek a warmer and drier climate, that this would bring healing to him. Although he did not wish it, that is what he did. He wanted to regain his health, to be a husband to me, and a father to my child."

She fell silent.

"He sailed to Bermuda," supplied Jo. "And you stayed here, and bore the child in his absence."

"Yes," replied Mary. "That is so." A sigh escaped her. The story was well known, had apparently even found a place in the annals of the history of Nova Scotia. "But it does not end there. There is so much more to it you see."

She calmed and stilled the nervous movements she had been making. Then she resumed her place by the fire and continued.

***

Hamilton Town Home, Halifax, Nova Scotia

December 1805

Mary turned away from the reflection in the looking glass, and instead took the few steps to the window to watch the rain as it poured relentlessly down. The thick heavy drops of water all but shielded her view to the landscape beyond the brick walls of the house.

Normally the view was magnificent; the deep and gentle emerald greens contrasting with the dark stormy blues of the sea beyond were usually a pleasant distraction for her eye, and a balm to her soul. At this moment however, none of that was visible at all. This rain was cold, colder than the earth upon which it fell, and soon the fog would roll in from the ocean.

In a short while the darkness of the night would fall, making the features of the house almost unrecognizable from the road, save perhaps for the few dim lights which would shine from its windows. It was a miserable night really, and she allowed herself a moment to wish she did not need to venture out. It was after Christmas, but the snows were late this year. It was a grey and sunless sky that had greeted her each morning this past week since her arrival, and all that came out of it was that bone chillingly cold rain.