Page 102 of A Stolen Heart

CHAPTER TWENTY

“SIMONE CAME TO ME THAT NIGHT,” Rhea said dully. “The mob was out.” She shivered, remembering. “It was awful. I was so scared. They were like animals, wild and howling. We were leaving the next day. Hiram—Hiram had that cough, and he didn’t really want to go. He said that they had nothing against Americans. They wouldn’t harm us. But I was so frightened that he agreed to take me to England. Everyone was running around, packing. There was so much I couldn’t take. But I had to get away.”

“Of course you did. I am sure it was terrifying.”

Rhea nodded, reaching for Alexandra’s hand. “Simone came with the children. John must have been about seven. He was trying hard to be a little man about it. Marie Anne—she was a year or two younger than he, and she was clinging to Simone’s hand, crying. She was scared at leaving her father. And there was the baby—Alexandra. You.”

She smiled tremulously at Alexandra.

“You were so beautiful—that cloud of curly dark hair. I always coveted you. I knew it was a sin, but I couldn’t help it. You were such a beautiful, happy baby. I couldn’t have children. Hiram and I had tried, but it never worked. Simone thought it was funny that I always wanted to visit the nursery when I called on her.”

Rhea fell silent, and Alexandra prompted, “Why did Simone and the children come to your house?”

“They were on foot,” Rhea said, sighing. “Simone was terrified. She wore a cloak with a hood pulled around her face, and she had the children dressed in plain clothes. She and John carried little bags for them. She said—” Rhea drew a shuddering breath. “She asked me if I would take the children with me. She was so afraid for them. She said that she and her husband were trying to persuade her parents to leave with them, to go back to England, but her parents were reluctant. They didn’t want to leave their home and their possessions. They kept saying that the mob would quiet down and everything would go back to the way it had been. Silly, of course. They had stormed the Bastille. Nothing would ever be the same. Chilton, of course, had that English arrogance, that assurance that nothing would happen to them because he was British. But Simone was not so sure. She had a mother’s fear, a terror that the mob would kill her children. So she asked me to take the children to England with us, just in case she and Chilton could not get away. She said to take them to the Earl and Countess of Exmoor, Chilton’s parents. She gave me a letter she had written them, as well as a velvet bag of her jewelry, in case we needed extra money to get out—and, I think, as an inheritance. The two little girls had their lockets, and John had the Exmoor ring, a plain-looking thing, but Simone said it was very precious to Chilton’s family. It was the ring of the Exmoor heir. She knew, you see, that she and Chilton were going to die. I could see it in her eyes.”

Tears welled in Alexandra’s eyes and spilled over as she envisioned her mother, frightened, doing what she could to protect her children. “Oh, Mother, how sad!”

Rhea nodded. “Yes. Simone kissed them and hugged them, and they clung to her, crying. Finally, she tore herself away and left, and I took the children upstairs and put them to bed. Then I went up to the top floor and looked down the street. We lived only a few houses from them. It was an area where several foreigners lived. I could see the mob moving up the street like a great angry sea. It was awful. I could hear screams, and they set the house on fire. I knew they were dead.” Rhea began to cry, and it took her a moment to collect herself and go on in a calmer voice. “We barricaded ourselves inside the house. When the mob came, Hiram opened the window on the second floor and talked to them. When they realized that he was an American, they cheered and left us alone. The next morning our neighbors told us that everyone in the Chilton house had been killed—Chilton, Simone, her parents, the children. Of course, I knew that the children had not, but I wasn’t about to let on where they were. We left that afternoon. I have never been so scared in my life. Scared of the mob, of someone stopping to search us, of one of the children speaking in French and making people suspicious.”

Rhea shuddered, remembering. Alexandra patted her arm.

“It must have been a harrowing experience. You were very brave.”

“No.” Rhea smiled weakly. “I wish I could say that I was. Hiram was brave. He did all the talking, even though he was growing sicker and sicker by the day. I felt as if I were in a nightmare—trying to take care of him and the children and not give us away. I knew that it was my fault that he was sicker. I had insisted on leaving. If only we had stayed in Paris, he might have recovered. He would have had proper rest and care, but rocking along in that carriage, day after day, staying in whatever inn we came to—and then the crossing over the Channel! It was too much for him.” She shook her head, sighing. “He was a wonderful man. He would have done anything for me. And I was responsible for his death.”

“No!” Alexandra cried in protest. “You don’t know that. The fever might have killed him anyway, even if you had stayed in Paris. Or you could all have been killed in the rioting. I am sure you were right to be afraid, and no doubt Hiram wanted you to be safe. I am sure he was determined to do whatever it took to make you safe. And to rescue the children. If you had stayed in Paris, what would have happened to them?”

Rhea smiled faintly. “You are very sweet to try to reassure me. Perhaps you are right. But I’ll never know. Hiram died shortly after we reached England. We stayed in Dover for two weeks. Hiram had grown too sick to travel, and you children had caught the fever, too. Thank heavens you and Marie Anne did not have it badly. You got over it quickly. John was in a bad way. Hiram died finally, and I was lost without him! I didn’t know what to do. You were the only thing that kept me going—you were such a bright, beautiful baby. You were two, and you could walk, of course, and talk a little, mostly just babble. But you were so precious and funny and sweet. Whenever I needed it the most, you would come and sit in my lap and hug my neck. You called me Ree-ree, and you’d say, ‘Don’t cry, Ree-ree, don’t cry.’ Somehow it always made me feel better. I loved you so—you have to understand.”

Rhea looked at Alexandra with desperation in her eyes and sat up, clutching Alexandra’s shoulders. “You have to understand. I didn’t think it would hurt anyone, and I loved you so much! Your parents were dead, only your grandparents to take care of you, and they would have the other two children. I know it was wicked of me, but I—I was bitterly unhappy and lost. I didn’t know how I was going to live without Hiram. But you made everything bearable. It seemed so unfair that I had never been able to have children. All I wanted was just one, just you—”

“Calm yourself, Mother. It’s all right. You are not wicked. I am sure that whatever you did, you did with the best of intentions.”

“No,” Rhea said sadly, “only the most selfish. I had no right to take you. Legally you belonged to the Countess. But I—I simply could not let you go.”

“Mother, I don’t understand. What did you do?”

Rhea sank back against her pillow, resignation filling her face. “I told them you had died. I said the baby had taken sick with the fever and died. It was easy enough to believe. John was terribly sick with it. And I took you home with me. I raised you as my own. I lied to everyone, including you. I kept you from your true family.” Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she turned her head away.

Alexandra had known what was coming, at least to some extent, but still it stunned her. She stood staring at her mother, her face pale.

“God forgive me. I stole you from them.” Rhea pressed her fingers to her lips. “I know that you must hate me.”

“No! No. I could never hate you!” Alexandra cried. “You are my mother. You raised me. You loved me. I have been your daughter all my life. How can I blame you for loving me so much?”

“Truly?” Rhea turned toward her, her face lighting with hope. “You don’t despise me?”

“Of course not. I love you. You were in a terrible situation. What you did was wrong, but it is easy to understand why you did it. How you felt. I have had a wonderful life, a wonderful family. How could I despise you for what you gave me? And now—now you have given me back my other family. I have two.”

“Oh, Alexandra!” Rhea threw her arms around Alexandra. “You were always the best child in the world.”

They sat that way for a long moment, clinging to each other, tearful and happy at the same time. Finally Alexandra pulled away and looked her mother in the eye, taking Rhea’s hands in hers.

“But, Mother,” she began earnestly. “I don’t understand. What happened to the other two children? What about my brother and sister?”

Rhea gazed at her in confusion. “What do you mean? Nothing happened to them. John was very sick, but—he lived, didn’t he? Don’t tell me he died.”

“Mother, the Countess knows nothing about any of us. She thought that all three of the children died with their parents in Paris.”