A World Apart Read Online Free Page A

call him Silas?’ Charlotte thanked her and made to go about her business. But something in the old woman’s smile hinted at unspoken confidences. She would not be brushed aside until she had finished her homily.
    â€˜My dear, I hope Vicar is giving your immortal soul good care. It’s at times of sorrow a body can begin to doubt the will of Providence. I noticed that he was most kind to you after the funeral. Perhaps he…you and he…might — ’
    â€˜Thank you, Mother.’ Charlotte felt as if she were suffocating. ‘Our vicar has many other people in his flock to care for. He was most generous with his help after Silas died. But now I must make a life for myself.’ She hurried on her way. The sympathy of her neighbours was becoming almost as hard to bear as the loss of her lover.
    A few weeks after her conversation with Mother Turlington, the village rejoiced in the news that the vicar was engaged to be married to Hepzibah, the viscount’s eldest daughter, only child of his first marriage.
    â€˜T’is good that Sir John will have his daughter back from London to comfort him as he grows older,’ Mother Turlington said when she waylaid the depressed Charlotte as she walked home from the village. ‘And no doubt, there will be the blessing of grandchildren for him one day. But the poor girl is plain. Very plain.’ She sighed and wiped the corners of her mouth with a lace handkerchief. ‘Though beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I always say. I’m sure the poorgirl has a loving heart. And she brings a fair portion with her. T’is said her dead mother came from a family of great means. That will be a blessing for Vicar.’ She eyed Charlotte’s belly. ‘And it looks as if it won’t be long before you’ll have the joy of your little Silas. You’ve looked quite peaky of late. He’ll soon put an end to your loneliness, my dear.’
    â€˜You’ve given birth to a beautiful girl child, Charlotte.’ The midwife wiped bloodied hands on her apron and bent to the ear of her semiconscious patient. ‘She has golden curls.’ Then the middle-aged woman slipped the newborn child into her mother’s arms. Charlotte opened her eyes for long enough to look down on the little head. She took in the golden hair plastered over the roundness of its pink scalp, wet from its first washing, springing tiny tendrils of damp curls at the sides. She saw its tiny nose, its clenched fists, its eyelashes pale against the purple skin of closed eyelids. Charlotte’s eyes closed against her will. She felt the midwife take the child from her arms.
    â€˜You are the most special child,’ Charlotte whispered. ‘You were made in sublime love. You will shake the world, my little one.’ Then the lethargy she had fought for hours dragged her down into numb unconsciousness. She ached to hold her child again, but some barrier stood in her way. At times she knew that helping hands put the baby to her breast, then took it away after it had suckled with a will and lay dozing in her arms. She felt a tingling on her skin where the baby had lain against her.
    â€˜The blood, Mary. It won’t stop.’ Charlotte heard voices seeming to come from a cloud floating far above her.
    â€˜I know. T’is The Lord’s will. We can but pray.’

CHAPTER 4
    Charlotte died from loss of blood in the small hours of the following morning. The young vicar presided over her funeral as she was buried in the village churchyard beside her husband. Mother Turlington noticed Martin Townsend wipe away a tear as the gravediggers shovelled earth onto the coffin. As he turned away from the grave, a biting wind rattled the bare twigs of the oak trees which bowed over the old churchyard.
    â€˜Such a caring soul, our poor vicar,’ Mother Turlington said to those standing near. ‘So young to be the bearer of other folk’s burdens. It will