Sweet Deception (Hidden Identity)

by Colleen French

  Ellen nodded and turned to start dressing. Now that she had made up her mind to tell Gavin the truth about her past, she was in a hurry to see it through.

  A short time later Ellen rode up to the tobacco drying house down by the river's edge. She dismounted from her mare, leaving it tied with Hunt's horse. Gavin had not only insisted on bringing it across the ocean, but he now rode it most of the time.

  "Gavin," she called as she approached the barn. "Gavin, are you there?"

  "Ellen?"

  She looked up, following the sound of his voice. She shaded her eyes from the morning sun.

  There, a good two stories in the air, Gavin sat straddling the roof's peak, a hammer in his hand and nails clenched between his teeth.

  Ellen dropped her hands to her hips impatiently. "What are you doing up there? Are there no servants who can bang a straight nail? If you fall off that roof and break your neck, I'll marry again in a month's time, I swear I will!"

  "Very funny." He shinnied across the roof's peak and disappeared off the back end. A minute later, he came around the barn. He was dressed much like his bond servants, in homespun breeches and white shirt, minus a cravat. A thick braid of hair poked from beneath a wool cocked hat to trail down his back.

  "So, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He leaned to brush his lips against hers in a casual greeting. "The way you've been sleeping lately, I didn't think you'd be up until the noonday meal."

  She laughed with him, reaching out to touch his arm, but when she lifted her gaze to meet his, she grew serious. "I came because I need to talk to you, Gavin."

  His face was suddenly solemn. "What's wrong? Are you ill? Have you—"

  "Gavin, please listen to me. I have to tell you something . . . something Richard said I should never tell you."

  "Then don't."

  He tried to hold her hand fast, but she pulled away. "I can't keep it inside me any longer. I thought I could, but I can't, Gavin. I'm not that strong. I feel dirty inside." She looked up at him. "I love you so much that I just can't do it."

  "Ellen, I've told you again and again. I don't want to know your secrets. What's passed has passed. You're mine now and that's all I care about. It's all I'll ever care about. Now I understand how difficult Richard's death was for you, but give yourself time. You're going to be all right."

  Ellen could see now that this was going to be even more difficult than she had thought. Gavin honestly didn't want to know the truth. But he had to know. It was the only way to bring a baby into the world. "Gavin, you have to listen to me. Yes, I'm yours now," she said as gently as possible, "but I once belonged to another."

  He lifted a hand. "Please, sweetheart. Don't do it. Don't torture yourself like this. I don't care about your secrets." He took her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his green-eyed gaze. "All I care about is you. How can I make you understand that? Whoever you were in the past, it doesn't matter now."

  "Even if I was once Thomasina Waxton?" She blurted it out. Even before she realized what she was saying, her words were hanging still in the air like the dampness just before a rain.

  He let go of her shoulders. "What did you say?" He spoke slowly, as if unable to comprehend her words.

  Miserable, Ellen dragged her gaze across his face. "I said, Gavin . . . I said I was Thomasina. I was once your brother's wife."

  "No." Gavin took a step backward, nearly stumbling. "That's impossible."

  "It's not impossible. It's true."

  "But . . . but Thomasina had brown hair. She—"

  "I dyed my hair. The night Waldron died, I fled from Hunt. Richard found me on the road and took me in. He changed my name, he set me up at the theater, he—"

  "No." He took yet another step backward, as if she somehow poisoned the air he breathed. "You couldn't have killed my brother, not you, Ellen. Not you who said you loved me."

  She clasped her hands, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. "I do love you, more than I thought I could ever love. That's why I had to tell you. I had to tell you because we're going to—"

  Gavin shook his head in utter disbelief, not allowing her to finish. "This is no joke, is it?" he spat out.

  She hung her head. "No. But let me explain. Let me tell you what Waldron—"

  "I don't want to hear it!" he shouted. "No more lies, Ellen . . . Thomasina . . . whatever the devil your name is!" He turned away from her and started for his horse.

  This wasn't what Ellen had expected. Yes, she had expected anger, pain. But she hadn't thought he would just walk away. "There won't be any more lies, I swear it," she called after him. "Don't you see, that's why I'm telling you this. So there will be no more lies between us!"

  "You killed my brother!" he roared, jerking loose the white steed's reins. "You murdered him!"

  "I didn't. Not really!" She followed him, putting out her hands to implore. "Let me explain, please. Let me tell you about Waldron, about Hunt."

  "I don't want to hear whatever it is you have to say!"

  Tears ran down Ellen's face as she watched him swing into the saddle. "But I don't understand. You said you forgave Thomasina. You said—"

  "I said my need for vengeance had passed!" He lifted his upper lip in a sneer. "That doesn't mean I want to be married to her . . . to you, you deceiving bitch!"

  Ellen's mouth fell open in utter shock . . . in despair. Gavin rode away without another word.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Two months, Ellen thought dismally. Two months you've been gone, husband. She sat in his chain behind his desk in the library she was preparing for him in his absence and ran a hand over her swelling middle. Two months you've been gone. Where, I don't know. When you'll be back . . . I don't know that, either.

  A late summer breeze filtered through the open windows, blowing the hair gently off her shoulders. The child in her womb stirred and tears came to her eyes.

  And what would happen when Gavin did return to Heaven's Fate? Would he pack her up and send her back to England to face the Duke of Hunt alone? Or would he at least feel a responsibility to the child she would bear him and allow her to live here with him, though without the love they had once shared?

  Ellen wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, not certain which would be worse. She sighed as she dried her eyes. All this time since Gavin had been gone, she'd tried hard not to feel sorry for herself.

  Richard was right, she thought miserably. I just shouldn't have told him. I should have taken the secret to my grave and then Gavin would still be here.

  But you couldn't have, her heart echoed. You couldn't have done it to Gavin nor to the babe you'll bear him.

  "So now what?" she said to the empty room. "What do I do now? Do I pack my belongings and return to London? Or do I stay here and fight for the man I love, even if he no longer loves me?"

  She stared out the open window, her chest tightening. In the distance she could hear the sounds of singing voices as the bond servants in the fields cultivated the maturing tobacco. It was almost harvesttime.

  God, but she loved this Maryland of Gavin's. Dear God, but she loved the brick house, the gardens that were being planted, the rows of tobacco that seemed to stretch on to eternity.

  The tobacco was what had kept her sane these last two months without Gavin. The morning after he had gone, she dragged herself out of bed and had young Rob saddle her mare. From that day forth, each morning she rose and, with the boy at her side, inspected the fields. She spoke with the overseer who, in time, came to accept her. She talked with the bondmen. And she listened. She listened not only to the men who knew about the growing of tobacco, but she also listened to the land. She listened to the wind that blew in off the river and rustled the leaves of the Roanoke. She listened to the sounds of the soil as the tobacco grew healthy and strong, rising up toward the heavens.

  Ellen didn't want to go back to London. Even if she knew Hunt was dead, she'd still not have wanted to return. She knew that even with a loveless marriage, her choi
ce would be to remain here in the Colonies . . . here at Heaven's Fate, where life was ever-changing, where there was a world of information to absorb, where there were always surprises. Even without Gavin's love, which she had surely lost, she could make herself content here as she knew she could nowhere else. Though she'd only lived here a few months, she knew the American Colonies were now her own . . . the home she had never really had.

  Ellen rose and went to the bookshelves she'd had built in Gavin's absence. She ran a finger over a freshly planed board; she could still smell the pungent scent of the pine. She had ordered that shelves be built from floor to ceiling on two sides of the room, and now that they were complete, she was putting Gavin's books in order for him. She hoped he would be pleased when he came home and found his beloved books so lovingly cared for and now proudly displayed.

  When he came home . . . When was he coming home? Where had he gone? The day he had left, he'd simply ridden away. He'd not returned to the house nor spoken to anyone. In the first days after his departure, Ellen hadn't been quite certain what to say to the servants. But she'd soon gotten over the embarrassment, realizing that as long as he was gone, as mistress of Heaven's Fate, she was in charge.

  He's gone, and I don't know when he'll return, she explained simply to those who worked on the plantation, then later to neighbors. And she had apparently stated the fact in such a way that no one had dared question her further.

  Ellen picked up a book from a wooden crate on the floor and slid it onto a shelf. After two months of Gavin's absence, she was beginning to fear for his safety. Two months was a long time to be gone, even if he was furious with her.

  Why didn't he just come home and tell her to leave? Why didn't he come home and allow her to explain the situation between her and Waldron? Why hadn't he at least given her a chance to tell him her side of the story? Why had he assumed she was the villain?

  Lost in her thoughts, Ellen had emptied an entire crate of books and started on another, when Mary came down the hallway. "Mr. Julius to see you, mistress," the housekeeper said in a singsong voice Ellen had taken great comfort in these last two months.

  Ellen spun around, smiling. It was good to see the sea captain's familiar face. Any malice she had felt toward Julius in England had long since faded. "Julius!" She offered her hands and he grinned as he took them.

  "You're looking fair enough," he told her, squeezing her hands.

  She brought her fingertips to her cheeks. "I'm getting fat. Gavin's going to be utterly repulsed by the time he gets—" Her voice caught in her throat and she turned away with embarrassment. She took pride in her strength these days. She didn't want Julius or anyone else to see her weakness.

  Julius sighed and went to the chair behind Gavin's new desk. He made himself at home, propping his worn boots on the freshly polished desktop. "I never thought I'd say it, but my good friend Gavin, as of late the Earl of Waxton, is a fool."

  "I deceived him, Julius." A week after Gavin had disappeared, Julius had come to call. Ellen had found herself baring her secret to the older man, who had taken it upon himself since then to come by often and visit, to comfort in his gruff manner as best he knew how.

  "Aye, aye, I know your sad tale. But it doesn't matter. I thought Gavin to be a better man. He was a fool to stalk off like that."

  "You think so? I hurt him so badly. . . ."

  "Every man or woman has a right to have his or her say, and Gavin didn't respect that. He had this idea in his head of who this brother of his was. Truth was—and only you knew it—that the man was a bastard from the start."

  "I should have told Gavin who I was when I first realized who he was."

  "Should have, could have!" Julius threw up a hand in exasperation. "Water under the hull now, sweet. Maybe you should've told him, but you didn't. Why didn't you?"

  Tears shone in her eyes. "Because I already loved him. I didn't want to hurt him. I just wanted to be with him a little longer."

  He slapped his hand on the desk. "So there you have it. It weren't for the sake of deceit that you kept the truth from him. It makes a difference. Now me, had I been in your position, I'd've never told the truth of the matter and never thought about it again."

  Ellen wrapped her arms around her waist, turning away from Julius to pace the sanded floor. "I know, I know. That's what you keep telling me. That's what Richard said. But I just couldn't do it, Julius."

  He pulled off his knit cap and tossed it on the desk. "It don't matter what you did. He shouldn't have run off like that. Like a boy angry with his mama."

  She grasped a bookcase for support and stared out past Julius through the open window. "Ods fish, but where is he?" she said as much to herself as to Julius. "Where did he go? Why doesn't he come home, even if it's just to tell me to pack my belongings and go? I don't know how long I can stand this waiting."

  "You're a good woman, Ellen. Gavin was a bright enough boy to recognize that. He'll surely come to his senses soon and drag his tail home."

  Her gaze drifted to Julius's wrinkled, suntanned face. "Haven't you any idea where he is? If I could go to him . . ."

  Julius slid his feet off the desk and pulled a toothpick from his coat to push between his teeth. "He ain't been into town. No one's seen him at the docks. He ain't holin' up at some other rich boyo's plantation. I checked them all out."

  Her gaze met his. "Do you think he's hurt? Worse?" The word dead echoed in her head, but she didn't dare speak it.

  "Gavin? Dead, you mean?" Julius gave a laugh. "Too cantankerous to die." He rose out of his chair, twirling his toothpick thoughtfully. "No. I'd think he's just more stubborn than most of us. Me, I might have run off for a day or two, gotten myself really down and out soused, but then I'd have come trailin' home. I'd not give up a warm bed and a willing maid so easily, wife with child or no."

  Ellen's cheeks colored but she smiled, knowing Julius meant to pay her a compliment rather than to offend her.

  She shrugged. "So what do you think I should do?" Ellen paused, dreading the thought of saying it but wanting to. "Do you think it would be best for me to find a ship to take me back to England?"

  Julius's brow creased. "England! Hell and fury, no, you shouldn't go back to England! You can't go back there, not ever. Not at least as long as that bedlamite albino roams the streets. I say you stay here and wait on that foolish bastard of a husband of yours, and when he does show his tail, you give him a what for. You make him sit down and listen to you. You tie him to his own mainm'st if you have to, but you tell him what a son of bitch his brother was and you tell him what he did to you."

  She shook her head. "I don't want to hurt Gavin, not any more than I have. What purpose would it serve to tell him what a creature his brother was? What reason would there be for telling now that he's dead?"

  "You're a great one for the truth in all matters." Julius pulled his knit sailor's cap down over his sunbleached hair. "Don't you think it's 'bout time Gavin lost those boyhood imaginings and knew the truth of his elder brother?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know. I just don't know anymore."

  "Well, you keep your chin up, sweet." He started for the door. "I got one thought on where the coward might have gone. Thought, mayhap, I'd look into it."

  Her face lit up. "Do you? Where? Oh, please, Julius. Tell me. If I could go to him . . . If I could only explain to him . . ."

  Julius put up a scarred palm, silencing her. "You stay put, missy, and keep that child you're carrying safe. I'll try and see what I can do about bringing his papa home."

  Ellen smiled as she watched Julius lope out of the library. "Thank you," she called after him.

  Julius just threw up a hand in reply and disappeared down the hallway.

  Julius whistled to himself as he trudged through the thick forest, a light pack thrown over his shoulder. He'd been walking since sunup, and with the day nearly over, he knew he had to be nearing the Shawnee village he sought. If Gavin wasn't here, he was at a loss as to where else
to look for him.

  Julius heard a soft thump and lifted his gaze, to see a Shawnee brave standing in the middle of the game path he had been following most of the day. Trying not to appear startled, Julius halted and nodded his head. "Greeting to you." He gave the hand signal of peace. "I look for my friend, Gavin, of Heaven's Fate."

  The Shawnee brave crossed his arms over his bare bronze chest, studying Julius with a careful eye. He replied with something abrupt in Shawnee.

  Julius cleared his throat. "Have you seen Gavin? I know he's friend to your people. I thought he might be in your village." Julius didn't know how much English the brave understood, but he hoped it was more than the Shawnee Julius understood. "Gavin?"

  The brave pursed his lips and whistled shrilly. An instant later two more braves appeared out of the trees, seeming to manifest themselves before Julius's very eyes. The first spoke sharply to the other two, who then gestured for Julius to follow them.

  Julius gave a shrug, moved his pack to a more comfortable position on his shoulder, and started after the two Indian men. "Well, I suppose you two boyos are either leading me to Gavin or to burn me to the stake, one or the other." He chuckled to himself.

  The brave ahead of him glanced over his shoulder at Julius with uncertainty. The other brave simply took up the rear.

  Julius walked in silence with the two braves for another three quarters of a mile before he began to hear the sounds of the Indian encampment they approached. Stepping through a seemingly impenetrable wall of briars, Julius found himself inside the Shawnee camp.

  The village was alive with the sight and sound of black-haired, sun-bronzed men, women, and children hurrying through their evening tasks, preparing to settle down to a warm meal and the company of family and friends. A group of children ran between the hut-like wigwams, chasing a speckled hound with pups. A teenage brave busied himself feeding a small herd of hobbled shaggy-haired ponies.

  As Julius entered the camp with the two braves, several Shawnee men and women glanced up with curiosity to see who the white man was, but no one seemed disturbed. A toddler came out of her family's wigwam to stare with black button eyes, until her mother dragged her back inside, admonishing her for her rude behavior, no doubt.