Of Parchment and Saltwater

Chapter 16

    The months passed and I became pregnant again, to our wary happiness. The cost of the failure of this pregnancy would be even worse than it had been with Maria, both for my health and our livelihood, but we were excited for the possibility of a child.
The nursery, which hadn't been touched since the day before Simcoe's attack, made my heart race with exhilaration every time I passed it. There could be a little boy or girl in there in a few months. Or there could not.
We never talked about it, but we were both terrified of the possibility of another attack from Simcoe. My pregnancy was big news in many places; it would be easy for Simcoe to find out.
"Louisa, dear heart," Benjamin said as he sauntered into the kitchen while I was making stew, "shall we go for a turn around North Street this evening? I just read that you ought to take slow walks while pregnant."
I laughed. "And how much have you been reading about that? Shall I expect your published treatise on being with child within a month? My back hurts far too much to go for a walk tonight."
"Perhaps," he came up behind me and tugged at the ties on my blue, floral jacket, "if you stopped wearing stays all the time it would hurt less. I've got a waistcoat just your size."
I splashed him with some of the water I was about to pour into the pot and rolled my eyes. "I won't look absolutely dreadful just so I'm more comfortable. Maybe in another few weeks I'll be forced to submit to your ideas but not until I can't bear it any longer. What if I made you go outside without breeches on, for heaven's sakes!"
Benjamin took the ladle from my hands and began stirring, saying, "Go drink some more of that brandy with cream. Maybe it will make you more apt to go for a walk with me tonight."
I groaned. Pregnancy was fun but terribly frustrating at the same time. It seemed as though nobody wanted me to do anything anymore for fear that I would break open.
Except for Benjamin, who still wanted to go for galloping rides on our horses with me and climb the live oak tree in the woods behind our house.
"I'm going to go to the post office," I said, "and perhaps I'll stop by to visit Mrs. Reeve."
"There's a letter for us?" He exclaimed as he suddenly sprang into action, taking my hands and looking at me earnestly. "I'll go to the post office for you. You stay here; I might be back late tonight."
"You're the postmaster, Ben, you'll be there to work tomorrow! What is so pressing in town that you must go right now instead of me? Do you plan on spending the night in the tavern or something?"
He laughed and kissed my forehead, skipping up the stairs. "Certainly not! You ought to relax; I heard that Aaron Burr, the lawyer who is friends with Alexander, is in town. I want to talk to him if I can."
I rolled my eyes and poured the stew into two bowls. A few minutes later, he came back downstairs with his cloak on and put the bowl of soup to his mouth, gulping it down as though he hadn't had anything to eat in weeks.
"It's September, Benjamin!" I exclaimed, "Why do you need a cloak?"
He shrugged. "It makes me feel like I'm in camp again; I just want to."
Pulling me towards the door with him, Ben took my face in his hands and looked into my eyes. There was something I couldn't interpret in his expression.
"I love you, darling Louisa," he whispered, enveloping me into a hug, "I love you so much."
I responded hesitantly, "I love you too, Benjamin. Is something wrong?"
He smiled and knelt to kiss the bump in my stomach. "Nothing is wrong, Lou. Just take care of this baby, alright?"
With that, he mounted his horse and rode out of sight, catching my eye and saluting with a small smile as he looked back.
I sighed in resignation and went back inside, finishing my stew and sitting down at the pianoforte.
One of the legs had become a crumbled mess since being burned in Simcoe's fire so Benjamin had bought another leg from another piano to replace it. It was a gold finished with light blue paint, little angels sculpted into it. Compared to the rest of the old, wooden original, it looked a little out of place but I loved it.
The rest of the afternoon was spent practicing a new music piece that Eliza had recommended and feeding the horses, knowing that it was supposed to rain tonight and that Ben wouldn't want to do it in the pouring rain. Then again, perhaps it would serve him right for leaving me all day to do whatever it was that he wanted.
Just as I was beginning to prepare for dinner, there was a knock on the door.
"Mrs. Tallmadge," a voice thick with a false sweetness crooned from outside, "It's your dear friend, Mrs. Andrews! May I come in?"
     I cringed and took a fistful of the flour I had been working with, groaning inwardly. With the nicest smile I could muster, I opened the door and cocked my head. "Mrs. Andrews, what a surprise! I apologize for my appearance," I said, brushing the flour from my hands onto my apron, "I didn't expect...your visit."
     She invited herself in and sat down in the parlor, looking around the room disdainfully.
     "I have some news for you, Mrs. Tallmadge. Do you know where your husband is?"
     I narrowed my eyes and responded warily, "He went into town to pick up a letter that had been posted and visit Mr. Reeve's nephew, Aaron Burr. Why do you ask?"
     There was a glimmer of excitement in her eyes as though she was about to tell me about the latest piece of jewelry she'd purchased. "Well, I don't mean to pry," she said, "but I was just at the post office, dear, and your husband spent quite a long time in his office with a strange girl I've never seen before. Have you any knowledge of this?"
     My heart pounded in my ears and I tried not to react.
     "He's the postmaster, Mrs. Andrews, I'm sure it was just business. Now, if you'll excuse me-"
     "But surely you are suspicious, Louisa! People are saying she's a wife in watercolors. And with this new baby, perhaps he has grown tired of you. Do not worry; every man is like this and you'll soon grow used to being ignored in such a way. But I will try to keep this hidden from the rest of Litchfield, however useless that endeavor may be-"
     I couldn't take it anymore. "You don't know what you're talking about."
     "I do!" she said, "Nobody has ever seen her before in town—"
     "Just stop it!" I screamed, shaking with anger. She looked dismayed by my outburst but kept silent.
     "You need to leave right now," I said firmly, my voice breaking, "You don't have any idea what you're talking about. You're just a mean, ugly, sour old gossip! Get out of my house!"
She huffed in consternation and stormed out, speechless and humiliated. I didn't feel bad. I felt betrayed.
As the door slammed behind her, I fell to my knees, sobbing. She had been here for less than five minutes but my entire life had been turned upside down. Nothing made any sense.
     How could Benjamin do this to me? I thought, putting my scarred hand to my stomach and letting the tears fall. My worst fear—that my husband would trade me for someone else younger and prettier and not pregnant—had happened. My bullet scars and messed up hand and pregnancy stretch marks and freckles suddenly seemed like diseases. They had caused this.
     But he had said how much he loved me right before he left...how could he have lied so plainly about such a thing? 
It couldn't be true. Mrs. Andrews was lying. But why would she lie about something like this? As vexing as she was, I felt as though she would not make something up.
     I felt sick. Everything he had ever said to me tasted like the bile rising in my throat. The thought of him in his office with another girl made my breaths come short. I had helped him organize his office, we'd had so many heartfelt conversations in that room, he always kept a bunch of wildflowers from my garden on his wall. To remember you, he had always said.
     But what good were those flowers today?
I let out a frustrated scream, kneeling on the rug of the parlor and putting my face to the ground as tears dripped down the edge of my nose. And all this time, I had thought he was perfect. Even this very morning, I would have told anyone that it was true.

I didn't know what to think. I knew my insecurity was getting the best of me, but it all made sense. He had acted so strangely this morning. Even if he was not courting a mistress, he was being false to me in some way. I was sure of it.

As crickets chirped outside my window that night, rain pattering softly against the roof, I laid in bed weeping silently. He had never even come back to try to cover up his story. Perhaps he was gone for good. 
Just as I was about to fall into a restless sleep, I heard the front door open and close.
"Louisa," I heard Benjamin say softly through loud breaths. He had been riding quickly through the rain. Fists clenched, I put on a robe and stood at the threshold of our bedroom door, unwilling to go to the top of the steps and see him.
"How could you?" I managed through choked, leaning against the doorframe as though it was my best friend. I didn't seem to have a best friend anymore.
I could hear him try to say something but he never finished, a loud thud as he probably dropped his satchel on the ground in the parlor. He could sleep down there; I couldn't bear the thought of talking to him tonight.
Without another word, I laid back in bed and cried into my pillow, kicking Benjamin's onto the floor. I didn't hear from him the rest of the night.

The next morning, I awoke to the baby kicking wildly in my stomach. I wanted desperately to run downstairs and tell Benjamin, let him feel his child's elbow and laugh with him. But he had betrayed me, and I never wanted to see him again.
Knowing that I'd have to go downstairs to eat sometime, I slipped into my robe again and leaned against the wall, trying to convince myself to face him.
     I reached the top of the stairs and pursed my lips. He was sprawled across the entryway, curled up in a fetal position facing away from me. His breaths were shallow, as though he were having a bad dream.
     As silently as I could, I slipped down the steps in hopes of keeping him asleep. He grunted when my feet hit the hardwood and turned to face me. I gasped.
     Blood streaked across his face and it was obvious that he had been laying in a pool of his own blood.
     "Please help me, Louisa," he sputtered, holding his left arm in pain, "I think I've been shot."

I'm about to get death threats, aren't I?
Just trust me.
Just breathe.
Trust me.
Breathe.
Trust me!!