A Solemn Promise

II

"Saying his name stabbed my heart, like someone had ripped through my carefully stitched up world and exposed the infected, pulsing red tissue that I thought was healing." Colleen Houck

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II.

Grace shared a bedroom with Claire, and Kate had slept in with them, too, before she had married Jim Ellis. So many years of being in such close proximity to each other had ensured that the sisters were in each other's confidence.

So much so that Claire was watching Grace carefully as she filled an old carpet bag with every possession that she owned, which wasn't very much.

Mrs Denham knew what had happened, of course, but Claire and Kate were the ones who cuddled Grace as she cried herself to sleep for weeks, months.

"Really, Claire, I wish you would not hover so!" cried Grace as she folded her church dress. "This is a good thing! I will be earning twice what I made working for the Slicksons. You will have food in your belly. Besides, are you just upset that you no longer have an excuse to call so that you might get a peek at Arthur Slickson?" Grace teased. It was a little joke within their family that Claire fancied the Slickson heir, Arthur. Grace thought him a little self-centred, but he was traditionally handsome, and the type of man to set Claire's heart alight.

Claire blushed immediately. "Hush!" she scolded bashfully. "Besides, I am not hovering," retorted Claire. "What if he comes back for a visit?"

"He won't," said Grace sharply. "That was made perfectly clear." Sighing, she added, "Will you go and start dinner? Peter will be home soon, as will Jem, and they will be starving. I need to finish packing."

Claire reluctantly nodded and she left their bedroom, and Grace felt a pang of guilt for being short with her sister. She knew Claire was only looking out for her best interest. Just as Grace would if their roles were reversed.

Grace went to the armoire and pulled open her drawer. There were three, and the first drawer had always belonged to her. In it, she kept books, ribbons ... and treasures. She pulled open a stack of letters, fixed together with a white ribbon. On it was a little golden signet ring. The ring that had been gifted to her in promise so many years ago.

It was silly, really, to feel a hurt from a promise made by a child. Grace didn't feel it as keenly as she once did. Time had helped. But never once could she have born the thought of parting with these letters, with the ring given in good faith to her by Adam.

When he had gone away, he had kept his promise. He had written for a little while. In his letters he had complained about his teachers, his classmates, and his parents, blaming them for sending him away. He claimed to miss her and to love her.

As it came time to mark a year since Adam had gone away, and the Beresfords had left Ashwood House, Grace had received a letter from Adam. The last letter he would send.

Grace untied the ribbon, carefully unthreading the ring, and slipping it onto her thumb loosely so that she would not lose it as she selected the letter on top. She unfolded it, and saw it was dated September '96.

Grace, it began.

Just Grace. Every other letter was addressed to his dear Grace, or his beloved Grace, but this letter was just plain Grace. She could remember reading it and knowing just from the way it was addressed that something was wrong.

I am sorry that this message must be relayed through letter, and I could not tell you in person. I must end our understanding.

What we agreed can never be, and you must know why.