Chapter Fourteen

There were very few things that had ever excited Alice. Travelling to a rare Catholic church in London was one of them. Annie had lent her the carriage that she and Joseph used so that she might take the afternoon to herself. It was the first time she had ever driven a carriage so it was a little intimidating for her to be in control of a horse from above. She committed Little J’s directions to memory and used her good sense of direction to find her way.

The church was a little out of the way and she drove the carriage for a good half hour before she arrived. Just being at a place where people like her were welcomed made Alice feel as though things might fall into place for her.

Her guilt and responsibility could well be vanquished. Her conscience would be clear so that she might be able to let herself fully trust James so that true, strong love could possibly develop. What she wanted most of all was for the priest to tell her what to do. She wanted to know if there was a right and wrong in what she was doing. She wanted James, but she wanted to make sure her brother’s sacrifice had not been made in vain.

The outward appearance of the church was not largely spectacular, not when one had seen Notre Dame. It was a plain, red brick building that was two storeys high. There were two steps up to the front door from the street. It did not give off the appearance of a church at all. Nevertheless, Alice persevered. She didn’t know what to do with the driving horse so she used the steps from inside the carriage to stop the carriage from moving by wedging it under the front wheel.

She nervously walked up the few steps and opened the door slowly. Peering inside, she was shocked. Her initial thoughts on the church were completely wrong. It was beautiful! The ceilings were high and the pews were made of a lovely dark timber. A second level also housed more seating and which gave Alice the thought that hymns must sound incredible when sung around the large room. In them were a few people who were quietly praying. Candles were lit everywhere and an organ was in the corner ready to be played come next mass.

A man wearing white robes emerged from a back room and he walked down the altar toward her. He looked like a kindly, old man as he smiled at her warmly. His caring, brown eyes searched her face and he nodded approvingly. “I am Father Walker and I will hear your confession, my child,” he promised her. Gesturing to the room in which he’d come out of, Alice started walking.

Father Walker followed her through to the confessional. The confessional was made of the same dark timber as the pews. Father Walker entered into the second door of the confessional and closed it behind him, Alice entered the first and closed it behind her. It was a small box like room with a simple seat. Separating her and the priest was thin veil so that only their voices could be heard.

Saying the words that she had not spoken for several years, Alice began her confession. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” At that moment, Alice heard a squeak that made her jump but she didn’t hear anything further so she figured that the priest had made the noise.

“What is your sin, my child?” Father Walker asked patiently.

Where to begin? “I have broken the fifth commandment,” she admitted.

“And how have you dishonoured your mother and father?” Father Walker replied.

“I failed them,” Alice began quietly. “I failed to uphold their beliefs and I brought shame on our family. My family was ‘eavily involved in the revolutions in France, Father.”

She heard Father Walker sigh. She trembled. “One mustn’t live the life another has planned,” he said calmly. “One must make decisions that they are able to live with. So long as you can go to God with a clear conscience, you have no dishonoured anyone.”

Alice could feel a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. She saw sense in his words. She say great sense. She couldn’t live the life her parents’ had. She couldn’t be like them. Where were they now? As much as it pained her to know they had passed on, she couldn’t fight like they did. She wasn’t that type of person.

“My brother and I escaped the barricades after such violent fighting. The soldiers were shooting the rebels everywhere we looked. We managed to get to the ‘arbour so that we could flee to England. It was my fault.” Alice’s voice broke on the last sentence as the image of her brother’s broken body filled her head.

“Pray, what was your fault?” Father Walker asked soothingly.

Alice took a moment to compose herself before continuing. “I was too loud by the ‘arbour. My voice alerted the soldiers and my brother, Jacques, had to act quickly or else we both would ‘ave been caught. Jacques ‘id me in a crate of silks and ‘e sacrificed ‘imself to the soldiers for me. For me. ‘e died, Father. ‘e died so that I might live for ‘im and our cause.” Tears started to stream down her face as she spoke about Jacques out loud for the first time. “I came ‘ere to London so that I could rally the survivors but I ‘aven’t. I ‘ave failed Jacques. I ‘ave failed myself. I ‘ave failed everyone I ever loved. Not one person knows who I truly am. Not really.” James did not know everything. She hadn’t had the courage to tell him about Jacques, or rather she was not ready to talk about him. “I can’t go to God with a clear conscience, Father. I am a failure.” To admit it out loud made her feel even more at fault. She felt like the biggest coward in the world.

Father Walker had listened to her patiently. “I do not see how you have broken a commandment, young lady,” he began. “Sometimes the strongest person is one who knows when to accept defeat.”

Alice frowned. “‘ow is that possible?” she asked. She used the sleeve of her gown to wipe her eyes, dampening them.

“Defeat does not mean one has failed, simply that their fight was not meant to be fought that day,” Father Walker continued. He said nothing further. He just allowed her to think and ponder over his response.

Defeat does not mean one has failed, simply that their fight was not meant to be fought that day.

He was right. France was not ready for them. She’d always thought that. She’d always known that. In time, possibly, but not now. But how could that appease the guilt she felt over failing Jacques?

“But my brother,” Alice sighed. “I still ‘ave failed him.”

“Your brother died so that you might live. Letting guilt fester is not living. With death comes life. Your brother would want you to live it. Guilt free. Your only sin would be to waste your life. You seek a clear conscience. A clear conscience can only be achieved when one learns to forgive oneself. Do you think you can do that?”

Alice knew Jacques died for her. She knew he wanted to her to live, but he wanted her to live for their cause. She believed in equality but she could not believe in the way that Jacques wanted her to fight. She never wanted to hurt anyone. She wanted peace. “To forgive myself means that I forget everything Jacques wanted me to do.”

“Your brother wanted you alive,” Father Walker said firmly. “There is no sin in living. To return and fight would mean persecution, yes?”

“Yes.” Alice nodded.

“Forgiving does not mean forgetting. As I said, your fight is not meant to be fought today. Perhaps not tomorrow or even in several years. But one day. One day the world will be at peace and it is not for any young man … or woman,” he said, nodding to her. Alice could see the shadow of his face through the veil. “To take it upon their shoulders and carry the burden. Life is so often unkind. You have been given a chance that so many others that you have lost would have loved to have had. If you do not take advantage of this, then, and only then, should you seek forgiveness for dishonouring your mother, father and you brother.”

It was as if Alice received a sudden shock of energy. It was clarity. It was as if she had been walking blind for three years and she had suddenly seen the light. She had been given a chance. A rare chance. So many had perished that day and she had lived. To avoid her life, to deny it, was insulting to those who had died, in particular Jacques. He may have been a passionate radical, and whether or not that was a good quality was still up for debate, but none could doubt how much he loved Alice. He’d given her a chance at life, and by God she would take it.

“Thank you,” Alice breath, smiling freely.

“Go in peace, and in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, bless you,” Father Walker said kindly, giving her the opportunity to go and live her life. And Alice planned on doing that.

She suddenly felt capable. She felt as though she deserved some happiness. She’d been denying that for such a long time! As soon as she even thought the word ‘happiness’ James’ face appeared in her head, followed quickly by the scene at the dinner table the night before. That was her definition of happiness. Family. They were offering that to her and she wanted the opportunity to see if it was real. She meant that in every sense of the word. She wanted to see if James was real.

Rising from the seat in the small confessional, she opened the door outwardly and exited. Father Walker did so at the same time and they both realised they were not alone in the room that housed the small confessional.

“Do you come to confess?” Father Walker asked.

Sarah Smith’s cold, green eyes were staring back at Alice as her lips formed a devious grin. “Oh, no,” she said, somewhat animatedly. “I learned exactly what I wanted my coming here.”

Father Walker nodded and left the room to go back out into the church.

Alice’s hope quickly deteriorated just as quickly as Sarah’s glee filled her face. The squeak that Alice had heard was Sarah entering the room. She’d heard everything.

“Did you think I would give up? I just never thought it would be so easy!” Sarah cackled like a witch. “You’ve been a naughty girl, young Jacqueline. Or is it Alice?”

How could she know that? Alice had never told the priest her name.

“James’ lips aren’t as tight as you thought. But I can see it in your eyes. It is Alice, isn’t it? I followed those idiot sisters of James’ to that orphan farm you run and then I saw you come here. Hearing your confession almost feels as good as the knowledge that I will one day be Countess of Ethridge.”

Alice couldn’t speak. It was like she didn’t know how. But inside she was fuming. She had just crossed so many lines. She would never be Countess though. James would see through her.

“If it isn’t clear already, dear Alice.” Sarah said her name distastefully. “Quite a plain name. It suits a plain face.” Alice wasn’t offended. She knew that Sarah would do anything to belittle a threat. That was what Alice was to her – a threat. “Anyway, if it wasn’t clear already – I own you. So long as you follow a few rules, you little secret will stay a secret.”

Alice already knew what the rules would be. Sarah was shallow and transparent and would do whatever she could to secure what she wanted.

“You will no longer see or speak to James. Ever,” Sarah said seriously. “He comes to see you, you will turn him away. You will no longer attend dinners or assemblies at Ethridge and you will decline any invitation. Do all this and I won’t tell the police that they have a French rebel in our town. Do all this and I might just send you a wedding invitation.”

“But ‘e ended your engagement,” Alice said softly, find words.

“Ah, that is the best part,” Sarah giggled. “You will write him a letter telling him how you cannot simply associate yourself with someone who doesn’t agree with your rebel ways and something else that breaks his heart so that he will come crawling back to me for security.”

“I could write ‘im a letter in French, you wretched woman, but not in English.”

“Oh,” Sarah moaned, rolling her eyes. “You really are useless, aren’t you? I don’t know what he sees in you. Fine, I will write the letter. But nevertheless, are we clear?”

Alice bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood. As quickly as it had come, her sight had gone and the world was black once more. “Yes.”

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Oh, what a cow! Do you guys say that? Or is than an Australian thing? I've always wondered ... haha!

But you all know me, I'm not one to let the evil one win ;) How will Alice get the better of Sarah? You know what's ironic? One of my close friends is called Sarah and a girl I strongly dislike is called Alice. We've batted heads quite a lot on the netball court haha (obviously I'm right and she's wrong :P)

Anyways, vote and comment!