Forever and Forever (Historical Proper Romance) (9 page)

Seven

Schaffhausen

Fanny crept into the room of the rented house in Schaffhausen where Tom sat with William, who was sleeping. She sat on the settee next to her brother, who was reading an expired copy of
The Boston Statesman.
That morning their father had retrieved the mail that had been waiting for the family at a posting station. They had spent the morning getting caught up with family and friends, as well as the current events of their city, though the events were not so current. The correspondences were from almost three months ago, but still they were pieces of home that all of them were glad to indulge in.

Fanny watched William’s withered chest rise with a rattle and fall with a gasp for several seconds before she spoke, giving Tom time to fold the paper. “Did he eat anything at all?”

“A few bites of bread,” Tom said. “Now that we have reached Schaffhausen, I don’t think he will indulge us so much.”

Fanny suspected that what William had eaten the last week or so had only been to appease them, not because he had any desire to prolong his life. They had arrived in Schaffhausen yesterday afternoon with heavy hearts. There was no longer anything to keep William from giving into the failing of his body.

Tom put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “We shall be alright,” he said with the brotherly wisdom that was not his nature. “He shall join the others he loved so much in this life. He shall be at peace, and his earthly struggles will be over.”

Fanny nodded but could not speak. Believing in a life after this one—a life free of pain and sorrow—was certainly a balm for her aching soul, but it did not take away the regret at losing her dear cousin. One more piece of her history taken from her and buried in the ground. She did not want another empty place in her heart that would ache for someone loved and lost.

The sound of someone in the doorway caught her attention, and she and Tom looked to the servant standing there. Adelè had been with them since Havre and would remain with them until the completion of their journey, along with a cook, a footman, and a valet for the men.

Adelè kept her head bent and her eyes on a spot on the floor a few feet in front of her. “Mr. Longfellow is awaiting you in the front parlor, Mr. Tom, Miss Frances.”

Fanny had not heard the bell, but perhaps in light of William’s condition, Mr. Longfellow had knocked lightly enough to get the attention of the servants rather than disturb the household.

Their father had wasted no expense in their lodging for this stay and had rented a three-level house with servants’ quarters and two parlors filled with exotic collectibles. It was finer than the other rentals they’d had on their trip and not far from a Protestant church their father had communicated with while they were still in Zurich.

As Fanny and Tom made their way to the front parlor—the company parlor, as Fanny thought of it—she wondered why Mr. Longfellow had included her in the request. Their private conversation in Zurich had led to Fanny feeling a connection to him, and she had wished for more private conversations that had not come. As he had been lodged some distance from their hotel, and her days had been filled with packing, traveling, and unpacking it was not surprising. She hoped that Germany would provide more opportunity, but William would be gone by then, and she could never think on that for long.

“Longfellow,” Tom said when he reached the parlor a step ahead of Fanny. Her brother’s voice did not betray the family pain as he crossed to his friend, who rose from where he’d been sitting near the window. The men shook hands. “It is good to see you, my friend. How are your accommodations? Better than Zurich, I hope.”

“They are very well, Tom, thank you.” His tone was somber, and Fanny noted his furrowed brow and regretful expression.

“Is something wrong, Mr. Longfellow?” she asked. “Has something happened?”

Mr. Longfellow let out a breath and held Fanny’s eyes a moment before turning his attention to Tom. “I’m afraid I’ve been summoned back to Heidelberg by Miss Crowninshield, my . . . my wife’s companion who undertook this journey with me. She has been with friends in Germany while I traveled through Switzerland.”

“Is Miss Crowninshield unwell?” Fanny asked. She had asked Tom about her at one point, wondering at the propriety of Mr. Longfellow having traveled for months with an unmarried woman. Tom had chuckled and shook his head. “I assure you that you need not worry about competition for Henry’s affections,” which Fanny assured Tom were no concern at all. Fanny had been embarrassed at Tom’s inference that there was any affection between her and Mr. Longfellow, but secretly glad to know that there was none between him and Miss Crowninshield either.

“She is in good health, thank you.” Mr. Longfellow attempted a smile, but it did not stay long. “She is ready to return to America and has found us passage on a ship set to leave London in early October. We have just enough time to travel to the port without having to rush through the last few cities she would like to see en route.”

“We had hoped you would continue our tour with us,” Tom said. “Could she not return with some other traveler? I’m sure Father could help with such an arrangement.”

Mr. Longfellow shook his head. “It would be unkind for me to expect her to make the trip without me. She was a good friend to me when Mary died.” He looked out the window. Fanny had never heard him speak of his wife, and the light from the window made him look very much like the troubled widower he was. He turned back to them. “I am disappointed not to continue on with your family, but I feel I must return to Boston with Miss Crowninshield and see to her comfort. I came to you as soon as I realized my situation. Your father is out?”

“Yes,” Tom said. “He had a meeting with the local clergy here concerning . . .”

Fanny looked at her brother when he didn’t continue and felt a lump in her throat. She reached for her brother’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze of understanding and support. “We shall give Father your regrets,” Fanny said, smiling at Mr. Longfellow. “Of course, you should return with Miss Crowninshield. Father will understand.”

Mr. Longfellow nodded slowly. “I also received word regarding my position. They need me in Cambridge by the end of the year and, then, Mary’s father sent me word of his eagerness to give Mary a proper burial.” His words sounded as though he were trying to convince them, and himself, of why it was necessary to return. “I should have returned before now. I feel I have not done well by her.” When he met Fanny’s eyes, his pain was laid bare before her. Did he truly blame himself for his wife’s death? Did it haunt him? He looked away and changed the subject. “If we make passage on the ship Miss Crowninshield has indicated, I could return to Cambridge in time to bury Mary very close to the anniversary of her death. It feels right and best.”

“Of course it is,” Tom said. “You are a good man.”

Mr. Longfellow said nothing, only stared at the carpet in silence.

“When will you leave Schaffhausen?” Tom asked.

“First thing tomorrow morning,” Mr. Longfellow said. His agitation seemed to unstick his feet, and he began pacing between them and the window. “My trunks are still packed from Zurich, and I have settled my account with the landlord for my rooms, but I had hoped to sit with William this afternoon as I will be unable to stay until . . . the end. I would like to read to him—the Dewey sermons, I think.” He stopped his pacing and faced Tom with an expectant expression.

“Certainly,” Tom said. “But he took a dose of opium not more than an hour ago. I’m afraid he will not be alert for some time.”

“That is all right,” Mr. Longfellow said. “It is not his ears and mind I will recite to. I only hope his spirit might hold my words and take them with him.” He looked up with tears in his eyes that he did not try to hide or blink away. “There is such unfairness in this life at times. What would we do if not for a belief in Deity?”

Neither Tom nor Fanny answered the rhetorical question, but Fanny nodded, blinking back tears of her own.

“You may attend him for as long as you like,” Tom said. “And stay for tea and supper as well. We shall all miss your company. You have been a great comfort for us these weeks.”

“As you have been for me,” Mr. Longfellow said. “I am without words to adequately express my gratitude for your friendship.” His eyes flickered to Fanny, but she looked away, unable to carry the burden of sentiment his glance might hold. “May I go to William now?” Mr. Longfellow asked a moment later.

“Of course,” Tom said. “I shall have Fanny see that you receive some refreshment.”

“That is not necessary,” Mr. Longfellow said, shaking his head. “I simply thank you for allowing me to stay a bit.”

Tom showed Mr. Longfellow to the back of the house while Fanny ordered some tea and bread to be brought to him. When the tray was ready, she took it to the parlor herself, setting it quietly on the small table.

Mr. Longfellow did not acknowledge her entry. He sat beside the lounge where William slept, breathing his rattling breaths. Mr. Longfellow leaned toward William and began to read the sermons he had brought with him, his voice soft.

A feeling of reverence washed over Fanny as she prepared Mr. Longfellow a cup of tea—cream only, no sugar—but she accounted her feelings to the sermons, not the man reading them with such feeling.

She placed the cup of tea on the table beside Mr. Longfellow, but still he did not look up, so intent he was on his task. Unsure what to do with herself and unable to ask Mr. Longfellow his wishes, she chose to stay in the room, as she had during numerous discussions when William was awake.

She settled into a chair and gave into her tears, allowing them to drip from her chin and stain her dress as she drew comfort from the sound of Mr. Longfellow’s voice. She sent out her own prayer that William’s suffering would not continue much longer. She allowed herself to feel the fullness of her love for her dear cousin and imagined the welcome such a kind soul would receive when he arrived in Heaven. It had brought her comfort when Charles passed to imagine her mother embracing his return, and she was glad to think of both Mama and Charles waiting for William now.

She closed her eyes and let Mr. Longfellow’s voice lull her to a place of comfort, a place where believing in God’s love was enough. A place where her own heart could find peace somehow.

Eight

Strasburg, France

Fanny looked out the carriage window at the imposing tower of the Strasburg Cathedral and marveled that after all that had happened this last week they found themselves here. Strasburg was often called “Little Paris” and served as a natural stopping point for a traveler journeying between Germany or Switzerland and the
actual
Paris and all the distractions it offered. The gothic architecture of the cathedral, with spires stretching toward heaven, made Fanny think of William and the blessed rest he had finally earned. She let out a sigh that betrayed, despite her faith, how much she missed her cousin.

The family had stayed with William through his final moments and attended his burial two days later. Rather than travel to Germany without a proper guide, Father decided they would go to Paris for the winter in hopes that the distraction of the city would revive them. The shadow cast by William’s death could not be ignored, and Fanny wished she had asked Mr. Longfellow for advice on how to bear it. Tom had written to Mr. Longfellow’s hotel in Paris, where he would go after collecting Miss Crowninshield in Heidelberg, to tell him the sad news.

“Perhaps we shall see Mr. Longfellow again before he leaves for London. He was going to Paris, too,” Fanny said with an absent air. It was not
impossible
that their paths could cross since their destinations were the same. The Appletons would stay in Strasburg for only a few nights before continuing their journey, however, so there was a limited window of opportunity.

“Perhaps we shall,” Molly said. “If not here in Strasburg, then perhaps we might meet up with him Paris. Did he say how long he would be there?”