No, that wasn’t right. He hadn’t ignited the feeling. He’d just made her aware of what had been there already, buried under the layers of anger and betrayal. Ever since that night when she had forgotten herself and let Rory’s kisses lure her where she knew she shouldn’t go.
“I’m so ashamed.” That was the only word that would do, though it scalded her lips even to say it. How many times had she tossed the word out at a child who had been naughty? Did you steal that biscuit from the jar? You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Did you strike your sister? Did you lie? Shame on you.
Mam stroked her hand over Senara’s arm. “Rory?”
Senara jerked a nod. “I never meant to let it go so far. But . . .” But she was lonely. And she loved him, or thought she did. And that he loved her. She’d thought they’d be married soon, and that while that didn’t excuse it, it made it less grievous a sin. “I hadn’t let myself think about it. What I’d done, what I’d sacrificed. Now it’s hitting, though. All at once.” She splayed a damp hand over her heart. “He showed up the other night. Here. Made insinuations in Ainsley’s hearing, and Ainsley dismissed them. Assured me,” she said on a dry laugh, “that he’d never believe it of me. Only he should. I’m not what he thinks me to be. Who he thinks me to be.”
“Senara, dearover. Sit down.” Never one to let her commands go unheeded, Mam nudged her over to a chair. The same one she’d been sitting in that first full day home, snapping peas, when Ainsley and Collins came in.. Mam sat beside her and gathered Senara’s fingers into her own. “Look at me.”
She’d rather have studied the grain of the table’s wood, but she did as she was told. Mam held her gaze. “You were always such a good girl—we never really had to speak of these things. But shame, Senara . . . it’s for a purpose. It’s there to strike our consciences, to remind us of the standard of the Lord. It’s there to let us know we’ve sinned.”
Senara’s gaze dropped away. “I know I have.” She did know it. But it had been buried these weeks under the lies—that it would all be glossed over as soon as she married him. That the interim didn’t matter if it ended in the right place.
“Then your next step must be to repent of it. And I don’t mean the cursory ‘I’m sorry’ that we let children get away with. You have to mean it, dear one. You have to regret not only the consequences but the sin itself. You must regret not just your own pain, but the grief you’ve caused—to those girls who will feel you’ve abandoned them, to the other servants who will see your example. To Rory, for not showing him that you’re a woman of integrity.”
Her eyes flashed back up at that, and no doubt fire flashed in them. “What? You can’t expect me to apologize to him!”
“Sins committed together are also committed against each other.” Mam lifted a brow. “And against the Lord. Repenting to Him is sometimes the easiest part. But He asks us to make right what we can too. That generally means facing those we’ve wronged.”
The pressure squeezed and flared hot again. She’d done wrong, yes. But not like him. He’d pushed her too far. He’d seduced her. He’d whispered promises he had no intention of keeping. He’d used her for information. And then he’d betrayed her.
But she’d proven herself too weak. Too susceptible to flattery. And how could she ever trust herself again now? How could she ever return to what she’d once been, as pure and innocent as Ainsley had assumed her still to be?
Mam’s hand stroked over her hair. “And after the repentance, dearover, comes the truly hard part—you must learn how to let the shame go. It has its purpose, a right and needful one. It can take us to life and repentance and return us to God. But if we’re not careful, it can just as easily carry us away and drown us. Others will try to force us to live in it still even after we’ve repented, after Christ has washed us clean. They will try to push their guilt and shame upon us, if we let them. Guard against that. But only after you are once again clean.” Mam dipped her head down to catch Senara’s gaze. “Aye? You must take it to the Lord, Senara. And then let Him truly take it from you.”
And how was she to do that? She nodded, because she knew the words were true . . . but then she pushed herself up. “Do you mind if I go for a walk?”
Mam didn’t even mention the rain coming down. “Of course not. Go on with you.”
She gathered her rain gear and slipped out the door, opting to let the drops soak her hair instead of covering her head with the hood or a brolly. Maybe it would do that cleansing work Mam said she needed.
She did need it. She knew that. But water alone couldn’t wash her of this stain. And she didn’t know how to let the Lord do it either.
Her feet took her to the street, aimed her toward the Abbey Gardens. When she was younger, that had always been where she went to clear her mind. Maybe it would work now too. Neighbors were out and about, clearly not willing or able to let the rain’s return hinder them, but she didn’t spot any unfamiliar faces. Good. At least the incomers wouldn’t be in her path.
She’d waved a greeting to Mr. Menna, caretaker of the Gardens, and found a secluded path to wander, when familiar movement caught her eyes. She turned to see what it was and frowned. Ainsley? She’d never known him to slip away for his own pleasure, even when Lord Sheridan was off about other business. Usually, he was home with his brushes and his bicarb, trying to work the latest ink stain from jackets and trousers. Or running errands with Collins. She couldn’t think what errand his lordship would have sent him on to the Gardens.
She didn’t really mean to follow, but her feet tugged her down the same path. Curiosity or dread, she wasn’t sure which.
Though she had her answer the moment she heard that other familiar voice call out, “Hank! Knew you’d come.”
Rory. She couldn’t see either of them at the moment, as Ainsley had gone through an arched opening in the wall, and that was fine by her, as it meant they couldn’t see her either. She slipped up against the wall, where she could hear them over the patter of rain on the path but stay out of sight.
“We’re family.” Ainsley sounded tired. Defeated? Had he given up resisting and decided to let Rory lead him into a life of sin too?
Her fingers curled into her palms. It wasn’t like him. Or maybe it was. What did she really know about him?
Rory’s laughter slithered through the rain. “Don’t pretend that would be enough to make you see things my way—it never has before. And you weren’t exactly leaping to my defense with Senara the other night, were you?”
Ainsley said nothing, though she could imagine how he would look. He’d be still and steady, not even blinking out of turn.
Rory went on, voice low. “Well, it’s like this, cousin. I need some actual information, and she’s my best chance of getting it. And the amount they’re paying me—well, it’s certainly worth a few vows that don’t mean much anyway.”
“You are such a reprobate.” The words snapped out in Ainsley’s voice, full of leashed feeling.
“Sticks and stones, Hank. But if you want to spare her poor heart, you know what you have to do. If you want to keep her out of it, you have to take her place.”