Chapter 17 – A Sanctuary

The children enjoyed complete freedom to come and go as they pleased, and they also enjoyed magnificent food and luxuries beyond their wildest dreams during their first week at the Countess' home.

One morning after breakfast, they joined the Countess in her study. Her face was grave and they knew she had serious news to impart. She asked them all to be seated. Maggie thought one of the boys (no, she knew it was Jack!) had stolen something and their expulsion from Eden would inevitably follow.

"I have not really had the opportunity to talk to you individually this week. For that I apologise, children. I know most nights at dinner it is I who drones on and on about my past life and of my own childhood in France. The curse of being an old woman, I suppose. Tonight, I promise, I shall be more sociable and we will speak of your futures here at Little Serrant."

As she spoke her face lost some of its severity. Maggie felt relieved and looked to Tom and Jack and saw nervous smiles creep back upon their faces. They, too, must have had the same misgivings as she.

The Countess continued, "Boys, please would you mind leaving Margaret and I alone for a while?"

The Countess then recognised apprehension return to Maggie's face. "Oh fear not my dear. We have women's matters to discuss and I'm sure the boys would rather be outside on a day like this, rather than listening to two females harping on."

They nodded in agreement.

"Very well, go! Do as boys your age are supposed to do."

The boys leapt from their chairs and ran from the room. Maggie had been alone with the Countess on a number of occasions, but still felt a faint anxiety when left alone in her presence.

"How are you feeling, Margaret?" asked the Countess after a brief pause.

"I am well, my lady," she replied, her gaze catching for the first time the portrait of a woman on the wall above from where the Countess sat. There was a similar-looking painting, of a similar-looking woman, occupying a space on the landing near her room, and Maggie thought she could see a likeness between the Countess and the beautiful lady in the painting. She wanted to ask, but held her tongue.

"You are at that awkward age now, Margaret. You are no longer a child nor are you yet quite a woman. Things will begin to change from now on. Do you know what I am referring to?"

"I do, my lady. And without a mother to guide me, I hope you will be able to offer advice in such matters."

"Indeed, I hope I will be up to the task," the Countess replied. "On the subject of your mother, what has happened that you and your brother find yourself so alone in this wretched world?"

"I'm afraid she has departed this world for a better place," she replied.

"I am very sad to hear, Margaret."

Briefly she told the Countess about her mother's descent into illness and her eventual death. In turn, the Countess paid Maggie a fulsome compliment, praised her for her dedication in looking after Thomas.

"And your father, my dear. What of him?" She asked.

"I would rather not talk of him for the time being," Maggie replied.

"Very well, I understand. Also, I have not asked before - and you have no need to tell me - but why were you running around the streets of London last week? Were you being chased by somebody?" she probed.

Maggie decided to tell a partial truth. "Some men...How can I put this without sounding coarse?"

"I am beyond shock now, Margaret. Do not worry I have seen all humanity has to offer. And most of what I have witnessed is quite repulsive I have to say."

"These men, they had a certain proposition for me," she spoke hesitantly. "They would not take no for an answer and they were trying to force me into a life that was immoral and ungodly."

"You made the right choice, my dear. The right choice indeed." The Countess seemed overjoyed with Maggie's resolve to keep her purity. "Your virtue is God's greatest gift to you. Throwing it away for financial gain is a mortal sin. But you are such a bright young thing, I guess you already knew that."

"Thank you, my lady. I knew you wouldn't judge me too harshly."

"Tell me, then, Margaret, what are your plans for the future?" she asked. "And where will you go next?"

Maggie decided not to reveal too much about Sanctuary, Mr William Turner or indeed the actions or whereabouts of her father. She did tell her she regarded herself and Tom as orphans and Jack, a stray, who they had picked up on the way.

"I know we have a distant relative up near Manchester," she said continuing with the fabrication. "I think we shall head up that way - in the future," she said stretching the truth as far as she could.

She decided to talk in a vague way about their future plans - and in secret instructed Tom and Jack to do likewise. For when the Countess spoke about the revolutionary years of her once beloved France - of all she had lost, and how she was forced to flee to England - a deadly glare would blaze in her eyes. Maggie suspected that if she said too much about her father, the Countess would view him, and by extension herself and Thomas, in the same light as she saw those dreadful revolutionaries who ruined her life.

"Those barbarians have cheated me of my right to a proper life," she protested the previous evening at dinner. "All I have had in exile is misery. I was a girl, younger than you are presently. And I was forced to flee. They took everything. My family and I took our meagre belongings, left our estate, our beautiful home, and were harried and chased across France. Until, that is, this great nation took pity upon me and offered me shelter and refuge."

Maggie would rather keep the Countess away from those areas of discussion

"We are enjoying our time here so very much, my lady," remarked Maggie.

"Then, for the time being, I would love you all to stay on here," she announced smiling. "I will not put you to work - not yet anyway. I have other plans for you. But for the meantime, I wish you to enjoy your lives, enjoy your lives like children are supposed to."

"We would all love to stay on here at your beautiful home, my lady. And of course we thank you for your kindness and will repay you with work. We cannot even begin to think of the life we would have, had we still been left on the London streets," replied Maggie.

"I see your eyes keep turning upwards to the painting on the wall above my head, Margaret."

"It is hard not to admire the lady's beauty," replied Maggie.

"Indeed so. Have you any idea who this woman might be?" asked the Countess.

"No, not at all," she answered at first; then a thought passed through her mind. "Is it the late Queen of France, Marie -"

"I'm glad you remembered her, but no it is not Marie Antoinette. Although," she turned and pointed up to the picture. "This is another woman who has greatly influenced my life."

"Whoever she is, she is remarkably handsome and, dare I say, she shares a certain resemblance to yourself, my lady."

"Ha!" exclaimed the Countess. "You flatter me far too much, Margaret. I could never achieve the brilliance, nor match the beauty of this great lady." She turned and held her hand up to the painting.

"Then who is she?" asked Maggie.

"She was, in her own time, a famous - or rather, an infamous woman. And I was told as a child she was a distant relative of my own family. Her name was Elizabeth. Countess Elizabeth Báthory. I do not expect you to have heard of her. She died over two hundred years ago and history has not been kind to her. Indeed, part of my life's work has been to write her life story, to restore her reputation. After my husband's death, I spent many years abroad researching and confirming we were indeed related through blood."

"She sounds like a remarkable woman," answered Maggie.

"Oh, my dear, if you only knew the half of it!" The Countess replied. "Hopefully, one day you may know all of her deeds - both good and bad. For now, I will tell you this much. I am working on the second volume of her life. I like to think of my work as unfinished family business. It's hard work, especially since I have suffered bouts of illness in these past years and this has slowed down my progress somewhat. However, I did complete the first half of her life and maybe sometime in the future you could read my work."

"Oh, I would like that very much." Maggie looked around the room and marvelled at the amount of books neatly arranged on the bookshelves.

"In time, Margaret, you will have plenty of time to help yourself to many of these books."

"Oh thank you, my lady. Thank you ever so much."

"Apart from my book, this is all I have of the Countess."

She turned to the painting once more. "It is a copy of course, sketched by my very own hand. Whilst researching her life, I went to Hungry and a nobleman of that country allowed me to see the original. I offered him a large sum for the painting but he refused. However, he did allow me to sit in front of it for days on end and make my own drawing. I'm pleased with the likeness I captured and I suppose those days spent alone with the Countess were some of the happiest of my life. I feel I really got to know Elizabeth during those days. I believe I almost heard her speak to me." She looked sad, her eyes looking out into the distance for a moment, avoiding Maggie's gaze.

Then she rose without the aid of her walking stick, smiled, and gestured for Maggie to do likewise. They moved from their seats and walked toward the door. Maggie stopped at the side of the door and waited for the Countess to reach her. The Countess stopped close to Maggie, who was standing with her back to a mirror. Maggie saw that the Countess caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and the smile, which had been evident on her face, suddenly disappeared.

"Oh Margaret, ageing is such a terrible thing," she forced a smile and reached out to Maggie - caressing her face with her fingertips. "So fresh and such beautiful skin you have. You remind me of the beautiful Countess Báthory." She turned and pointed back to the portrait above her desk,

"She too was renowned for the silkiness and whiteness of her complexion."

"But you too, my lady, have such wonderful skin. Here, let me feel." The Countess smiled and moved her head closer as Maggie touched her skin. "So smooth too, my lady. So silky."

"I try, Margaret. I try to halt the advance of time but alas it is to no avail. It is useless I'm afraid. I have tried all things..." She paused and looked at Maggie and smiled, as a single tear caught on the lash of her left eye. She turned away and moved back to her desk, "Forgive me, you must not pay any attention to a maudlin old woman such as I. Go play and be merry. Enjoy life. Enjoy your life for now."

Maggie walked from the room and turned back once more to speak to the Countess. She looked back at the wonderful objects and paintings that dominated the large room and asked, "Do you not possess a likeness of Marie Antoinette upon your walls, my lady?"

"No, Margaret, I do not. The Queen belongs to a more private place: she lives on in here," she pressed her fingers against her breast. "She will always have my heart and does not need to be on display," replied the Countess.

***

Metropolitan Police Evidence: The Power Papers - Document 10

From The Times Newspaper, June 8th 1842 - A Fatal Accident.

Yesterday we witnessed a sombre end to the case of the recently disappeared writer, translator and publisher, Mr William Turner. It was confirmed by Officer Blake (N124) of the Metropolitan Police that a body had indeed been dragged from London's St Katharine Docks and, after a brief identification, the corpse was judged to be that of the missing gentleman.

A full inquest into his death was undertaken yesterday evening at the Swan Tavern, Fish-street Hill.

Without any key witnesses - especially the two ragged children who alleged Mr Turner had been viciously assaulted and dumped into the river - the jury decided they could not agree to whether or not the substantial injuries to his person were the result of an attack, or due to his time being thrashed about in the water for many days on end.

How he managed to be in the water is certain to remain a mystery, but evidence of substantial gambling debts may point to his own hand being a contributing factor.

Coroner's verdict: accidental death by drowning.

***