The Girl Underground

Chapter 32: Of Morals, Betrayal, and Judgement

Chapter 32: Of Morals, Betrayals, and Judgment

New Orleans, Louisiana, 1850

"The weeks and months after Malia left were the worst of my life," Dorsey said, crossing his legs at the knee. "Not only because I'd lost my dear friend, but because I was left with a choice, to remain silent and deny a father access to his child, or a choice to say something, and betray my friend."

Ronald couldn't fathom that. As it was, he could hardly fathom the whole story! It felt as though time had passed at an incredibly slow pace since Dorsey had started telling it, but it unfolded so quickly, it was like watching a boulder roll downhill in almost slow motion.

"Arthur Denning's suicide coupled with the continued silence from the Quincy home didn't make it easier," Dorsey went on. "I wanted to come forth with the truth because I knew that it would lead to the better outcome, but every sense of morality in me told me to stay true to my friend. She had made me promise to keep it a secret. I didn't know then how heavy such a burden would be. Even the best man breaks under pressure."

"I daresay, I would never wish such a turmoil on my worst enemy," Ronald muttered. "I like to think that I would know what to do in such a situation..."

"I thought I did," Dorsey chuckled. "I thought it would be the easiest thing. I had protected her for a long time, what was one more secret? But to see such a powerful man disintegrate and a town fall to pieces one day at a time? Lanfore was my home, and the Magistrate was the balm keeping it together, more or less. People started to speculate why he was acting the way he was. They began to wonder if he had something personally to do with Arthur Denning's crime, Addison's death, Roger's death, Cromwell's death... And he did. They just didn't have all the pieces to the story."

"They didn't have Abigail's side."

"Exactly."

"Did the town ever find out?"

"I cannot say, but the story is still far from over..." Dorsey sighed. "As I said, even the best man breaks... Eventually."

XXX

London, 1823

Five months later...

Time seemed to fly by for Malia from the moment she stepped foot in London. She didn't know what to expect, didn't know what would happen to her and, most importantly, she didn't know if her baby was safe. She didn't miscarry, she knew enough to know that women bled heavily during miscarriage, but she still wasn't entirely certain that her child wasn't in stress.

In the days following her arrival, Amys Dorsey, Brandon's older sister, forced Malia to stay in bed and fill her belly with food so the baby could be healthy. She applied many different herbs to Malia's stomach and massaged it often. Every once in a while, she would say that there was a good chance the baby was going to be a boy, but Malia had no idea how the woman could determine that merely by feelings her stomach!

A month came and went and Malia was finally able to be a little mobile, but not to the point where she had been before falling pregnant. She wished she could be back to her old self; she hated having to be so useless. Amys constantly assured her that there was nothing wrong with it, that she was carrying life inside of her and had to accept the precautions all to-be-mothers had to take.

Five months came and went, and Malia was getting used to feeling her baby move inside of her. Most of her days were spent with her in bed, and she didn't know how to pass the time, so she thought often of Lanfore. She thought of John, the love of her life. She wanted to run back to him, baby and all, she missed him so much. She missed their underground sanctuary. God, that felt like a lifetime ago. She missed his violin music, their stolen kisses... She wanted all of that back.