“I prayed most of the night,” the girl confessed in a whisper.
“As did I.”
“Bengie told me that you gave him permission to court me.”
“Did I do the right thing?”
“Oh, yes, indeed. I love him so much, Mistress Ceressa. I hope he comes back to me—I hope they both come back.” Ceressa hugged Mariette and gave in to the tears that she’d fought the day before. Mariette’s soft sobs blended with hers.
****
The unmistakable sound of galloping hooves brought Ceressa, Mariette, and Mrs. Arston to their feet, mending and needlework discarded as each met the other’s questioning gaze with mounting fear. It had been two days since Latimer and Bengie had left, and though life went on uneventfully at Tidelands, an unshakable foreboding haunted Ceressa, which no amount of prayer and scripture reading could ease.
Hurrying from the sitting room, Ceressa rushed down the hall and threw wide the front door. She recognized the approaching rider as the Carrutherses’ coachman. She went out on the porch as the man halted his lathered horse then sprang from the saddle. Mrs. Arston and Mariette gathered around her. Panic reared its ugly head, and she began to repeat the Lord’s Prayer to herself. It would never do to let her imagination run wild when she had to remain calm. Had something happened to Latimer? To Bengie? Her hands trembled so badly she clasped them tightly before her.
“I bring you news from Master Carruthers.” The man paused to get his breath. He seemed as winded as his horse. “One of Bacon’s most trusted men and seventy others have moved into Arthur Allen’s Brick House and arrested his overseer, John Finley. Fortunately, Major Allen is with the governor or it’s certain he’d be dead now. No one’s safe, Lady Kirkleigh. Defend yourself as best you can. God be with you.”
The man turned about, flung himself onto his horse’s back, then put the animal to a grueling gallop. Ceressa drew a deep, steadying breath. She would not let Latimer down. Ceressa turned to the two women.
“We won’t be bullied or terrorized. We’ll meet whatever Bacon sends our way. Mariette, go for Mo, Willett, and MacLarren, father and son. Mrs. Arston, please locate Libby, Suzanne, and her mother. We’ll meet in the garden. If Bacon decides to bring his war here, we’re going to be ready.”
****
Gunfire roused Ceressa from a fitful sleep. Not quite dawn, an eerie, mauve-gray light filled the bedchamber, adding to her start and sending her heart into her throat.
She fought down a fresh wave of panic as she scrambled out of bed, her hands shaking as she caught up her dressing gown.
The shots sounded louder telling her that whoever was firing was moving closer to the house. Looking out of her window, she could see a dozen horsemen riding toward the front door of Tidelands, each man heavily armed. “Dear God, help us.” Turning away, she hurried from her room and into the hall, nearly knocking down Mrs. Arston and Mariette.
Unfortunately, the noise had wakened April, and she padded toward Ceressa, whimpering and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She scooped the child up in her arms and kissed her cheek.
“Lady Kirkleigh, you and April go back to your room,” Mrs. Arston commanded as though she was her mother. “I’ll tell that lot of miserable curs you and Master Latimer are not here.”
“They’re firing at someone. I won’t have them killing our men.”
“There’s nothing you can do about that.”
“We should find Mo,” Ceressa said and started down the stairs, still holding April. Mrs. Arston caught her arm and stopped her.
“Mistress, don’t.”
Ignoring the housekeeper, Ceressa raced down the last few steps. The front door burst open, knocked off its hinges as six men entered. They halted abruptly when they saw her. Fixing them with a scathing glare, she silently prayed that the Lord would lead her through the next few minutes.
“What manner of business brings you to my home and requires you to destroy property and threaten lives?” The strength in her words was completely false—she only hoped the men standing before her didn’t know that. Ragged and unkempt, they bore the scars of recent skirmishes.
“We’re here to see Lord Kirkleigh. We’ve orders to arrest him for treason.”
“Treason? Against whom, the king or Nathaniel Bacon?” The men shifted their weight uneasily. They seemed unprepared to address a woman who openly defied them. “Some say you are the ones guilty of treason.”
“Lady Kirkleigh.” One of the men moved forward, a man whose face she recognized, having seen him at muster and at church over the past three months. “If you say your husband is not here, I believe you.” Ceressa knew this man had a wife and four children and his own trade—he was a blacksmith at the Crossroads. Why was he risking it all for Bacon? Truly, Bacon had won many over to his cause with his eloquent talk of equality and freedom. Yet, equality and freedom was better won with clear minds and hearts.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, then dared to take a deep breath. “Now, I ask you to leave my home.”
“We will, Lady Kirkleigh,” the blacksmith said, “but you’ll have to come with us.”
“No!” It was Mrs. Arston who spoke. Mariette quickly shushed the housekeeper. Ceressa dared not look at the two women. April whimpered in fear and clung more tightly to Ceressa’s neck.
“Why?” She had to appear strong. Please God, don’t let me fail. Latimer was depending on her. So were April and all the people of Tidelands.
“Orders, Lady Kirkleigh.”
“What could Bacon want with me?”
“That’s not for me to say. If you need to change, do so quickly. We must be on our way.”
“You can’t do this. Leave her be.” This time, Mariette told Mrs. Arston to hold her tongue.
“It’s all right, Mrs. Arston. I’d rather go with them than bring disaster to Tidelands. Please take April.” Ceressa turned to give the child to the woman, but the blacksmith stayed her arm.
“The child is to come, as well. Isn’t she the niece of Lord Kirkleigh?”
“Yes, she is, but why should Bacon have need of her? She’s hardly more than a babe.”
“She comes.” Mrs. Arston and Mariette were crying, but Ceressa was denied that luxury.
“I’ll need enough time to dress myself and the child.” The man nodded and Ceressa moved toward the stairs.
“Ressa, we not go with them. They be bad.”
Ceressa tried to smile reassuringly at April but failed miserably.
“It will be all right, April. You’ll see. We just have to keep praying to our Father in Heaven.”
“Mistress Ceressa,” Mariette cried, grasping her sleeve. “Bacon will do something horrible to you because he’s angry at Lord Kirkleigh.”
“I have no choice, Mariette. If I don’t go, someone will be hurt or killed and everything burned. Tidelands is Latimer’s life.”
“You are his life.” The passionate words flew from Mariette’s normally gentle lips. “He’d care nothing about any of this”—she flung her arms wide—“if something happened to you. Or April.” Unexpectedly, Mariette moved past her and confronted the men assembled in the hall. “You have no right to bring such sorrow to these people. Lord and Lady Kirkleigh befriended me and helped me when I had nowhere to turn. How can you stand there and do this to those who are good and kind? You’re nothing but a lot of filthy vermin.”
Another man stepped forward and slapped Mariette. The girl immediately crumpled into a heap, violently weeping, her hand pressed to the side of her face. Ceressa placed April on her feet and hurried over to Mariette, drawing her into her arms.
“You murdering beasts. You’re nothing but cowards. How dare you strike this woman.” Time sped then slowed as Ceressa’s eyes fastened upon another man who aimed his pistol at her. She watched him fire—a tiny spark, then a flame, and the ball burst from the barrel. Mrs. Arston screamed, April shrieked, then a loud, “Noo-oo-ooo” shattered the air.
Ceressa was knocked aside, striking the side of her head on th
e edge of a chair. Darts of fiery pain danced about, but when they finally subsided and a throb replaced the pain, she saw Mariette on the floor, blood seeping from a wound on her temple. She lay there still; unconscious. Or was she—?
“Get changed and be quick about it.” The blacksmith hauled her to her feet and shoved her toward the stairs. Gone was any reminder of the kind, polite man, replaced by one hardened by death and destruction. Terrified that someone else would suffer Mariette’s fate, she grasped the polished banister and took an unsteady step up. One step, two steps, three steps…she counted each one and when she at last reached the upper level, she dared to look down, only to see Mrs. Arston crying over Mariette’s prostrate body. Had that sweet, sweet girl given her life to save Ceressa’s?
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“You’re lucky I didn’t turn you over to Bacon, considering the unkind things you’ve said of me.” Latimer ceased his pacing and turned to look at Sir William. Disbelief and incredulity merged in his mind as he regarded the governor. Surely, the man had more important things to consider. “I’ve heard how you’ve spread dissention at muster. Torrence says they’re calling you the Bacon of Surry County.”
“That is Willshire’s uninformed opinion—no one else’s.”
“Will you also deny the reports that you’ve labeled me an old, doddering fool, incapable of decisive action? Tell me, Latimer, do you fancy yourself more capable of governing this colony?”
Latimer looked closely at the man he’d once admired and respected. Reports were filtering in hourly that Bacon’s lieutenant, Rookings, and a multitude of armed rebels had invaded Surry County. Tortured with worry over Ceressa and April, Latimer felt no need to respond to such an idiotic question.
He didn’t wait to hear another word, nor did he request permission to depart. Striding from the office, he let himself out then slammed the door, bringing to attention the guards that were positioned in the hall of the State House. They trained their matchlocks upon him, which added to his fury.
Heedless of the danger, he shoved the weapons aside in order to make his way past them. It was a relief to leave the building, breathing in fresh air as he attempted to clear his head of the worry that was now his constant companion. A number of men had gathered, but rather than recount his fruitless visit with the governor, he skirted the group, hoping to locate Bengie. Failing to find the man, he turned his steps toward the long, low structure serving as the ale house, for the town’s ordinaries were no longer servicing patrons.
Latimer stomped within, his gaze sweeping the interior filled with men bored and restless thanks to the stalemate with Bacon. There seemed to be no place to sit where he could privately sort out his thoughts, so he started to leave until someone called his name. Seeking the source, he was surprised and suspicious when he spied Torrence Willshire dressed in the same rough garb he’d been in that day he’d brought the governor’s message to Tidelands. It was hard to believe Willshire had put aside the brocades and velvets, Latimer thought humorlessly, as well as that monstrous wig. Automatically, he gripped the hilt of his sword as he came to a stop before the man.
“What do you want?” He was more than ready for a fight. Just seeing Willshire and recalling the esteem in which Ceressa now held him, he could be easily pushed to the brink. Jealousy was tearing him apart, its talons sinking deeply.
“Why don’t you sit down and have something to drink? You look far too fierce, Latimer. Not still holding a grudge, I hope.”
“You know it’s not a grudge I hold. It’s a need for vindication.”
“So you’re still awaiting an apology. All right, then. I’m sorry.”
Latimer stared at Willshire as though he had lost his mind. After seven years and countless hours spent detesting this man, Willshire now decided to apologize? Latimer wasn’t sure he’d heard aright. “What?”
“I said I’m sorry. Isn’t that what a Christian is supposed to do when he realizes he’s wrong? Believe it or not, I’m still in possession of a Bible. The events of recent weeks have reminded me of my mortality, so I’ve been delving a bit into our Lord’s promises. I know I’ve lived selfishly and dishonorably. But I also know I’m forgiven. Now I ask you to forgive me. It wasn’t coincidence that brought us both to James Cittie. I’m tired of the old battle. I’m not invincible and neither are you. But do we really want to kill each other because of jealousy and pride? Don’t look so surprised, Latimer. You know I’ve always been jealous of you—it goes back to our boyhood. And now you’re jealous of me because you think I covet your wife. Well, I don’t. I wouldn’t want to be married to a woman who, I have heard, is as skilled with a sword as any man.”
Latimer dropped into the chair across from Torrence.
“I would live in constant fear of angering her.”
“My life changed because of what happened at the university.”
“It only changed because you let it. You chose to wallow in self-pity. It drove you away from Sir Geoffrey. It might deprive you of the one thing I know you value more than Tidelands.”
Ceressa. Torrence was right. So many times, he’d let anger and pride and stubbornness keep him from embracing the full gift of love that God had placed in his life that unforgettable night at the Red Rose Inn. He hadn’t known it then, but deep in his heart, he’d been searching for a true and lasting love all along. Now, he was perilously close to losing it.
“I guess you’re as ready for the fight as the rest of us. If Sir William doesn’t give the order soon, Bacon is going to make fools of us all.”
“He’s done that already,” Latimer said.
“As neither of us knows if we’re going to come out of this alive. I was wondering…” Torrence’s voice trailed off.
“Wondering about what?”
“I know you saw Ceressa with me that morning when you left James Cittie. Did you know she gave me a letter to mail to your uncle?” Latimer fisted his hands upon the table as he met Torrence’s gaze. For possibly the first time in his life, the man wasn’t grinning smugly. Latimer felt as though his lungs had been denied air, for it was suddenly hard to breathe. Or was it the heat within the establishment that made him feel as though he’d fallen into an oven?
“I didn’t know.” It was difficult for Latimer to speak. Ceressa had gone behind his back, lied to him, deceived him. He felt as though he was splintering into a thousand shards.
“I did one of those dishonorable things. I read the letter.”
“What did she write to my fa—uncle?”
“You should know. You’re the one that saved her from the mob that was trying to hang her. There was something else she wrote that I thought you should know. She told your uncle that she was safe and well and that she truly loved you. She only hoped that one day you would forgive her for forcing you to marry her.”
Latimer’s gaze fixed upon Torrence’s. There was neither malice nor hatred in his eyes. In that moment, Latimer’s old anger ebbed; his obsession to be avenged and inflict retribution erased. “I thought you should know that.”
“Thank you.”
Torrence grinned then suddenly grew pensive as he lowered his eyes. “Have you any news from Carrumont?” He traced the rim of the empty tankard he clutched in one hand.
“Bartholomew is well, or he was up until I left.”
“I tried to see Phyllis a few days ago but was told she wasn’t in residence. The housekeeper wouldn’t tell me where she is. Could she be ill?”
“No. She’s in Norfolk County. Bartholomew was so distressed and angered by Phyllis’s attempts to humiliate and frighten Ceressa, he sent her to his wife’s cousin to rethink her life’s direction. The cousin is a minister of a church somewhere near a place called the Dismal Swamp.”
“I’m glad she’s away from all of this. You may not realize it, but—”
“You’re in love with Phyllis,” Latimer finished for him. “You say that I’ve gotten more than I bargained for, but I assure you, marrying Phy
llis will bring you more headache than bliss. However, if anyone can handle her, I’m sure it’s you.”
“I despair of ever winning her heart. Especially when she fancies herself in love with you.”
“She doesn’t love me. She merely wants what she can’t have. Surely, you know that by now.”
“Women,” Torrence growled.
Latimer laughed. What in the world had just happened? Here he sat with Torrence Willshire, and for once he didn’t want to run him through with his sword. Thank You, Lord. Thank You. Ceressa was in truth a gift from God because she had miraculously brought this healing to him. She was his love, his life, and his wellspring of all that was good and true. Now, she was alone at Tidelands and might at any moment be threatened by another enemy more deadly than Charles Herrington. Latimer stood. Torrence looked up at him questioningly. If Bacon was to be stopped, it was now. More than anything, he wanted Ceressa in his arms; he wanted to tell her again how much he loved her and needed her—how grateful he was to God that he’d been the one chosen to rescue her.
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m going back to Tidelands. I’ll wage my fight with Bacon another day.” Torrence stood and extended his hand. Latimer accepted it without hesitation.
“And I think I’ll make another trip, this time to Norfolk County. Perhaps a certain young woman might enjoy seeing a familiar face.”
“Take care. May God protect you.”
“And you.” Torrence laid a coin on the table then turned away.
Latimer started to follow him from the crowded tavern but paused when a man bumped into him, his eyes wild and his manner frantic. Latimer pulled out his pistol in the event this individual proved to be a threat, wondering if he was drunk. The man staggered a few steps further until someone offered him a chair. He collapsed upon it and rested his shaking hands on his knees. Latimer now recognized the man as a secretary of the governor’s.
“Tragedy has struck,” the man gasped. His words would have been humorously dramatic had the man not been so obviously distraught.
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