A Solemn Promise

XXIX

"The vote is an emblem of your equality, women of America, the guarantee of your liberty. That vote of yours has cost millions of dollars and the lives of thousands of women. Money to carry on this work has been given usually as a sacrifice, and thousands of women have gone without things they wanted and could have had in order that they might help get the vote for you. Women have suffered agony of soul which you can never comprehend, that you and your daughters might inherit political freedom. That vote has been costly. Prize it! The vote is a power, a weapon of offense and defense, a prayer. Understand what it means and what it can do for your country. Use it intelligently, conscientiously, prayerfully." Carrie Chapman Catt

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XXIX.

It had just gone five in the morning, but Grace was awake. A force of habit that she had not been able to escape since leaving service. Claire usually awoke and began her chores at six o'clock, and so Grace used this time to start the bread.

What she had not been expecting was a knock on the door.

She knew immediately who it would be, and she knew immediately what this visit meant. Her heart was practically breaking as she opened the door, but upon seeing Adam's pain-stricken face, it broke entirely.

Adam was completely dishevelled, from his creased and crumpled attire, to his unkempt hair and reddened eyes. His eyes told her just what agony he was in, and Grace longed to take it away from him. But she knew she couldn't. She knew from experience just how terrible this was. 

"He's gone," Adam whispered, and a flash of shock crossed his face, as though this was the first time that he had articulated his father's death.

Grace had only read to him the previous morning, just as she had been doing every morning since Peregrine had first summoned her. He had not looked long for this world for a little while, and Grace had known it was coming.

She said a silent prayer for Peregrine Beresford, and she truly hoped that he had found some peace now that he was free from pain.

Grace went to Adam, wrapping her arms firmly around his waist and resting her head against his chest. She could hear his erratic heartbeat. Adam reciprocated immediately, holding Grace as tightly as he could, as though his life depended on it. And he wept. He wept quietly, heartbreakingly, for his father.

And Grace cried, too. She cried for Peregrine, for the man she had come to know, respect, and admire as Adam's father. She cried for Adam and wished she could heal him in some way. And she cried for her own, dear Papa. He was never far from her thoughts, especially recently.

Grace and Adam held each other in the small entryway of her house, leaning against the closed front door. It was still very dark, and the house was quiet as her mother, sister, and brothers all slept. The only noise was both of their shaky sobs, which quietened after a little while.

Grace didn't know what to say. She had said so much since learning of Peregrine's illness, in an attempt to bring Adam some sense of understanding and compassion, but she knew now that nothing could heal him. He needed time to be sad, time to mourn.

Adam said nothing, either. Though as she heard the light footsteps of her sister moving about upstairs, Grace realised that Adam's breaths were even. Craning her neck up, she could see that his eyes were closed and that he had fallen asleep leaning up against the door.

For a brief moment, he was peaceful.

As Claire came downstairs, she stopped abruptly when she saw Grace and Adam together by the door. Her expression told Grace that she knew immediately why Adam had come. Her brows furrowed sadly as she sat down on the fourth step, facing Grace.