Charles Augustus Fenton. Alana Whiting

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      It was some days before I was able to make my escape without detection. Meg had accompanied my mother to town for some supplies and though they tried to include me in their journey I was able to masterfully dodge the bullet by appealing to their feminine nature. Screwing my face up in a monstrous manner at the idea of shopping with two women on such a fine sunny day caused them both to peal with laughter. They gathered their baskets and with a cheery wave in my direction, they got into the buggy and bade Jack to ride on.

      I was free at last. I breathed a deep breath of fresh air and was king of the world. I plucked an apple from the kitchen and set off jauntily in the direction of my mother’s good friend Magda.

      My feelings were mixed towards her. She had shown nothing but goodwill and kindness to me but I shared my father’s uneasiness at something that I couldn’t explain. She was nothing at all like my Meg or any other lady I ever had occasion to speak with. She exuded a mystical power and secretiveness I wasn’t privy to. I had vague recollections of her making me feel better when I was desperately unwell and my mother reminded me often how I owed my existence to her. In fact she called her my white mistress. It was a secret name that only she and I used in private whenever she spoke of her dear friend. She was my protector and adviser, an ally in need and enemy to my enemies. I was to show her nothing but respect and gratitude and heed her words, my mother commanded.

      As I neared her cottage, my joviality evaporated. I had never visited her alone before and if it wasn’t for my beloved Meg, I may have turned tail and headed back instead. But a Fenton is not a coward, so I drew breath and knocked resoundingly on her door.

      ‘Master Charles! How delightful to see you on this glorious spring day. Do come in, my boy.’

      I smiled weakly and walked past her into the passageway.

      ‘I must have sensed you were coming as I have just pulled out a fresh loaf of bread and would love to share a piece with you.’ She led me through to the kitchen where delicious smells wafted into my nose. I was instantly ravenous and drooling and watched impatiently as she carved a thick slice of warm bread and smothered it with butter and honey. She placed it on a plate in front of me and I attacked.

      ‘Thank you, Mistress Williams,’ I managed to spit out between bites of this most delicious ambrosia.

      ‘Magda please, Master Charles. I’m sure your mother won’t mind a relaxing of the rules in etiquette. I do find it so…dreary at times.’ She smiled at me secretly and poured me a large glass of milk.

      I smiled back at her and drank heavily from the glass. The milk was sweet and cool. It was the perfect accompaniment for my bread and honey. She really was quite the cook. She sat quietly watching me as I gulped down my drink.

      ‘How can I help you, Charlie? she asked, progressing to the pet name my Meg and I shared. I barely noticed and realised I had nearly forgotten what my initial goal had been. I regrouped my thoughts.

      ‘Excuse me, please…Magda.’ She nodded at the use of her name. ‘But I just wanted to help my Meg with something, but it’s strictly between you and me though. She wouldn’t like me meddling.’

      She waited patiently as I shuffled in the seat. ‘And what may that be, Charlie?’ she asked fondly.

      ‘Well…I may have seen Meg and Jack kissing last week.’ I reddened at the memory and stole a glance at Magda. She raised an eyebrow and looked straight back at me, causing me to drop my look to the table and mumble on. ‘And Meg caught me looking. I thought I was in big trouble but thankfully Meg said she wouldn’t tell about me spying.’ Magda snorted but held her peace. ‘But then she got upset when I asked her about them getting married and told me to mind my own business.’

      ‘That was wise counsel from Meg.’

      ‘But I want to know why she didn’t want to talk about it. They would be a great husband and wife and they look so happy with each other. Why is she being so mean?’

      Magda leaned forward and stared at me. I flinched under the attention but held my gaze.

      ‘What makes you think you are entitled to such knowledge? And why should I tell you?’ she asked.

      I sat and thought for a minute.

      ‘Because she has raised me from when I was a little baby and I don’t like seeing her cry. I made her sad when I asked her and I want to make it better. If I don’t know why she won’t marry Jack, then I can’t help make her happy again.’

      ‘Sometimes, little man, there are some things that you can’t help people with.’

      ‘Even you?’

      ‘Yes, even me. If I told you why they can’t marry, it won’t help Meg at all. There is nothing you can do about it.’

      My curiosity surged. What deep secret could be stopping their true happiness? I had to know.

      ‘Magda, please. I PROMISE I will never tell another soul, not even Mother. I just want to help her’

      Magda studied me and saw my genuineness. She sighed and reached for one of my sticky hands. ‘Meg and Jack can’t marry, Charlie… Jack is already married.’ I was thunderstruck. Jack had a wife?

      ‘But before you get all high and mighty, Master Charles, listen to the rest of the story.’ She settled back in her chair. ‘Many years ago before you were born, Jack was married to a local girl called Rebecca. They were both very young when they married, but deeply in love and wanting to start a family together. Rebecca was blessed soon after and they had a tiny boy called George. They loved him and Jack would regale your mother with stories about how strong his boy was going to be. They had visions of George helping his father at the Fenton Estate and becoming a wealthy farmer one day. Rebecca was a most devoted mother and barely let the little baby go unless it was straight into Jack’s arms. They made wonderful parents, just like yours are. But it wasn’t meant to be.

      One morning, Rebecca woke up and discovered that during the night whilst breastfeeding little George, she had accidentally fallen asleep and smothered the infant, killing him. It drove her mad; she stopped eating, bathing, showing any interest in the outside world. Jack tried to manage, refusing any suggestion from do-gooders wanting to take her away. But he had to in the end, when he came home and found her putting her wrists onto hot coals and burning herself badly. She was packed up and sent to Northampton General the very next day and she hasn’t been seen since. Jack used to visit her regularly but it only made her worse so they recommended he stay away. The doctors there have tried every therapy known to mankind, but without success. She’s an old woman in a young woman’s body who has lost her soul to a world you and I daren’t care to enter.’

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