They watched the officer and his men approach the camp and dismount to speak to the soldiers. One soldier gestured to the house, speaking animatedly. The officer who seemed to be in charge nodded and spoke with them for a while. Then the three turned and rode toward the house.
Emily looked at Joanna in dread; tears filled her eyes. She brushed them away, straightened her shoulders, and answered the door. Joanna followed, holding her head high in an obvious effort to appear calm. Emily smoothed her skirts, brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes and opened the door. Amazement overtook her as she stared into the eyes of Michael Dennings. He had changed considerably since that day in her London parlor when he had proposed to her. He stood tall and striking in his officer’s red uniform. An air of command enveloped him, and his eyes held a maturity that war adds to every man who endures it. He was no longer the naive, innocent Michael she had known.
“Michael?” she whispered.
His eyes conveyed a warning, and he shook his head so slightly that only Emily could perceive his message to her.
“Mrs. Brentwood, I am Captain Michael Dennings, and I am here to speak to you about the incident in which a fellow officer was very seriously injured,” he said in a loud, clear voice.
Emily was bewildered. The scene seemed so bizarre. Here was Michael Dennings, her lifelong friend, dressed as a British officer and speaking to her as if she were a stranger. Surely this was all a bad dream. All of it — Jonathon’s capture, Captain Walters’s attack on her, Michael’s coldness — surely, this must be a dream. Panic gripped her, and she began to sway. Joanna was behind her in a moment steadying her balance.
“Emily, I am here,” she whispered urgently. “It will be all right; stay calm.”
Joanna’s voice had a soothing quality that revived her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them she found Michael’s upon her. There was no coldness there, rather a look of concern and anxiety.
“Mrs. Brentwood,” he said, “perhaps we can discuss this matter inside.”
“Of … of course,” she stammered.
She stepped back to allow him to enter. He started toward the door and paused when his men followed him.
“You two wait out here,” he ordered. The soldiers looked at each other in confusion.
Michael proceeded into the manor, and the door closed behind them.
When they were safely in the drawing room, Michael exploded.
“Emily, what has happened?”
Joanna jumped in surprise. She looked at the young officer in bewilderment, then at Emily.
“Joanna, may I present Michael Dennings, a dear friend of mine from London.”
Joanna appeared startled at the name. Perhaps she remembered Emily speaking of him as the boy she nearly married to escape leaving England. He no longer was a boy, but a handsome young man, albeit in the uniform of the British army.
“How do you do, Captain Dennings,” she said.
Michael bowed to Joanna then quickly looked back at Emily.
“What has happened here? I have been told that you almost murdered Walters,” he said. “Where is he?”
They led him up to the room where Captain Walters lay. The captain looked just as he had that morning. The same soldier still tended him and explained to Michael the treatment he had administered. Michael nodded, then stepped to the bed and felt the captain’s pulse. He looked anxiously at Emily.
“This is quite serious,” he said quietly. “How did it happen, Mrs. Brentwood?”
Emily was distressed by the coldness in his voice. She explained the confrontation in the smokehouse, and the way she had defended herself. When she finished, he turned to the soldier and asked him to corroborate her story.
“I did not see any of this, sir,” he answered. “All I know is that when I arrived, Captain Walters lay unconscious in a pool of blood; Mrs. Brentwood stood over him, and a blood-spattered meat cleaver lay beside him.”
“Mrs. Brentwood, did Captain Walters threaten you with a weapon?” Michael asked.
“Why, not exactly …” she began. “But he had his pistol in his belt — ”
“In his belt, not ready for use?”
“Well, yes … that is … no,” she stammered in confusion. She noticed that Joanna had left the room. Where was she? Emily desperately needed her right now.
“Well, you simply attacked him, then, for no reason?” Michael demanded.
“No reason! He was about to rape me! I was defending myself — ”
“That is your word against his, Mrs. Brentwood.”
Emily could not believe this nightmare. Was Michael so bitter about her rejection of his proposal that he would see her imprisoned or, worse yet, hanged? She could not believe this of him.
“No, Captain Dennings, here is some evidence,” Joanna said from the doorway. She carried in Emily’s torn dress and handed it to the officer. His face blanched when he saw the ripped material. He glanced at Emily, anger showing in his eyes. He replaced it quickly with a cold, flinty stare.
“Let us return to the drawing room to discuss this further,” Michael suggested.
The soldier who tended Captain Walters gave Emily a smug smile. She brushed past him and followed Joanna and Michael to the stairs. Her mind raced as they descended. She must get Michael to believe her story. If he did not, she would surely be sent to prison.
“Would you care for tea, Captain Dennings?” Joanna asked as they entered the drawing room. She rang for Dulcie at Michael’s assent.
Emily stood by the hearth trembling and needing its warmth. Michael walked to the windows to check on his men, and then crossed to the drawing room door and closed it. He strode to Emily and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Em, are you all right?” he asked anxiously.
Emily collapsed into his arms in relief and sobbed.
“Oh, Michael, why did you frighten me so? Why did you treat me so cruelly?” she cried.
“I had to, Em. If this does not look like a fair and objective decision on my part, they will send for someone else to decide your fate. No one must know that you are my friend.” He shot a warning look at Joanna.
“You can trust Joanna, Michael,” Emily reassured him.
Michael looked down at her tenderly. He gently touched the bruise on her face. Anger filled him again.
“Walters has a reputation for this,” he spat. “I would like to go up and finish the job you started.”
“Michael, please,” Emily said.
Dulcie entered, and Michael quickly stepped away from Emily and sat down. They sat back and relaxed with their tea.
Emily explained again what had happened. Michael listened intently, his eyes blazing.
“We shall have to do this carefully, Em. Above all, do not let on that you know me.”
After tea, Michael returned to his men, and Emily and Joanna relaxed a bit. Perhaps Emily would be saved after all.
• • •
Captain Walters improved the next day and even regained consciousness briefly. Captain Dennings informed his men that they would remain for a time to see if Captain Walters would improve enough to tell his side of the story. The soldier who tended him continued giving Emily smug smiles that communicated his conviction that she would pay for injuring his captain.
Three days later, Walters had improved enough to stay alert for some time and was strong enough to be questioned. Michael dismissed the attending soldier and talked to Walters alone. He was with him for some time, and when he emerged he immediately sought Emily and Joanna in the drawing room. Again he checked the windows and closed the door. He sat beside Emily on the settee and took her hand.
“I have talked to Walters,” he said to her. “He was very weak, but very determined to see you punished.”
Emily
’s heart sank.
“Oh, Michael, where will they send me? Michael, I am going to have a child. How can I go to prison if I am going to have a child?” she cried.
Michael’s glance inadvertently dropped to her waistline. He looked back up at her and blushed in embarrassment. He would not have noticed on his own, but now it was evident that Emily’s trim waistline had filled out.
“You will not go to prison, Em,” he promised. “You see Walters and I sampled many a tavern together. One night he outdid himself on ale, and there was an accident with a young prostitute. I was not there when it happened; he told me about it later … She did not survive, and her family brought charges against him. Of course, as a British officer he was able to have the charges dismissed, but not without a severe warning. In any event, I reminded him of it today. I doubt that he will charge you with any crime. In fact, I had the distinct impression he would like to leave Brentwood Manor as soon as possible.”
Emily threw her arms around Michael.
“You are a dear, dear friend!” she cried. “Oh, Michael, how can I ever thank you?”
“By taking good care of yourself and that babe. Congratulations, Emily,” he grinned, and then looked at her soberly. “Mine is one of the groups assigned to find Jonathon, Emily. If you know where he is, tell him to avoid the southeast coast. That is where they are concentrating.”
Emily’s eyes shone with gratitude; she clasped his hand.
“Actually, Michael, until these troops arrived, we believed Jonathon to be dead. With my own eyes I saw him shot, saw his body fall into the sea, and saw his body dragged into a skiff by the British. I could not believe it when Captain Walters said they were searching for him. When this conflict is over between us, Michael, I hope you will come back and visit as a friend,” she said sincerely.
“The conflict is between us, Emily? You side with the patriots?” he asked in surprise.
“I side with whoever is victimized by a stronger, tyrannical power, Michael. This was a source of bitterness between Jonathon and me, but now I understand what the colonies have been fighting for.”
• • •
The next afternoon David arrived with a group of armed men, Randy among them. They rode up the drive and halted at the camp. Michael came out to greet them.
“What are you doing here?” David demanded hotly.
“We are under orders to search for Jonathon Brentwood,” Michael replied.
“You and your men pack up and get out as soon as — ”
Emily and Joanna had come out of the manor when they saw him arrive. Joanna broke into a run.
“David! David, you are home!” He dismounted as she ran to him. He caught her up in his arms.
“Are you all right, Joanna?” he demanded.
“Yes, darling. Please come inside,” she asked.
“No. I intend to get these men out of here — ”
“David, please. You do not understand. Please come inside.”
“Yes, David. Randy, you too,” Emily added.
The two men followed them inside leaving the others to stare down the British.
“Please explain!” David demanded.
“Jonathon is alive!” Emily exclaimed.
“We had heard rumor of that in town. But no one knows where he is. He has disappeared,” Randy said.
“Emily was attacked by one of the soldiers,” Joanna blurted out. The men froze. “Emily — ” Randy crossed over to her, taking her hand.
“I am all right, Randy. But I made him pay. He lies upstairs recovering from his wound.”
The men looked at each other in apprehension, the ramifications apparent to them.
“Emily, did he — ” David did not know how to finish the sentence.
“No, David.”
A look of relief crossed his face, and then concern returned.
At a knock on the door, Dulcie ushered in Michael. David stiffened at his presence, and Randy clenched and unclenched his fists. Michael looked apprehensively at Emily.
“I trust these people with my life, Michael,” she said softly.
“Then you had best introduce us before they carry out whatever they are plotting at this moment,” he suggested.
“Of, course,” she laughed. “Randy, David, this is my dear friend, Michael Dennings.”
“Oh, the one you almost — ” David stopped at a stern look from Joanna. “Oh … well … It is a pleasure,” he finally managed.
Emily explained to them Michael’s protection of her, and they began to relax. She also told them of Michael’s warning about the search for Jonathon.
“The Raleigh Tavern was abuzz with news of his escape,” Randy explained. “He received a severe wound to his side, but only a flesh wound at his temple. It stunned him, but did not stop him. Not our Jonathon. Gates has half his crew searching, but no one has turned up a clue as to his whereabouts.”
“They traced him quite a distance out of Norfolk, but lost his trail after a day,” Michael explained.
Speculation about Jonathon continued until suppertime, when they invited Michael to join them.
“Thank you, but I must, at all costs, appear at odds with all of you,” he replied. “Walters is steadily improving, and with luck we will be away from here the day after tomorrow. I will, however, return someday to accept Emily’s most gracious offer.”
Emily escorted him to the door, but paused before opening it.
“Michael — ” She blushed and looked down.
“I know, Emily,” he said quietly.
“I am so sorry that I hurt you, and now you save my life when you could have … I can never thank you enough.”
“Emily, I will always carry you in my heart.” He looked down uncomfortably, and then looked into her eyes. “I could not bear to see you hurt. Brentwood is a lucky man.” He kissed her cheek then opened the door. Emily watched his soldiers salute him, and he jammed on his tricorn as if leaving in anger. She whispered a prayer of thanksgiving for his friendship.
• • •
True to his word, Michael ordered Captain Walters carried out to one of the wagons, and the regiment set out for Williamsburg two days later.
A sense of peace pervaded the house at their absence and spirits rose at the thought of Jonathon’s survival. Randy remained with them for several days to reassure himself that no redcoats had lingered.
They sat at supper one evening when they heard a carriage approach. Rising, David went to the door to greet the guest and returned to the dining room with Deidre. They all were shocked at her appearance. Her usually carefully coiffed hair was disheveled, pinned haphazardly and hanging in her face. No color highlighted her cheeks, which were drawn, attesting to her hunger. Her eyes were dull, her mouth slack. Looking around the room, she raised her hands in a helpless gesture.
“I have nowhere to go,” she stated simply. “The slaves have fled, the food is gone, my home is mortgaged to the British, and they refuse to allow me to remain.”
There was no spark of defiance; no fight remained in the beaten woman. The room was quiet as each digested this news. Joanna looked at Emily. It was her decision; it was her home.
Emily rose from her chair and went to Deidre. She put an arm around the woman’s frail shoulders.
“Come and eat, Deidre. Of course you have somewhere to go. You will stay right here with us,” she said softly.
Deidre looked into her eyes. “I — ”
Emily shook her head imperceptibly.
Deidre looked at her with what appeared to be a mixture of disbelief and gratitude.
They all resumed eating supper.
• • •
Life had become more agreeable at the manor, but Emily grew more impatient and anxious about Jonathon each day. The weather had re
mained mild, so she took many walks and busied herself with the gardens to try to calm her thoughts.
She was on the veranda when she saw a carriage rolling up the drive. Hastening out to meet it, she hoped it would bear news of Jonathon. She exclaimed in surprise when she saw her brother alight.
“Andrew!” she cried as she ran up to embrace him.
“Em!” he caught her up and swung her around.
“Drew, be careful,” she said, laughing. “I have such good news, Drew. Jonathon is alive! But I do not know where he is. Have you heard anything of him?”
“Em, I must talk to you. Come for a ride with me,” he urged.
“What is it, Drew?” she asked, concerned.
“Just come with me, Em,” he insisted.
“Drew — ”
“I must talk to you about an important decision I find myself faced with. I trust your judgment, Em.”
She paused for a moment.
“All right. Let me get my wrap,” she agreed.
Emily ran into Joanna in the hall.
“Whose carriage is that?” she asked Emily.
“It is Drew. He needs to discuss something with me, something urgent. I hope he is not planning to marry already!” Emily exclaimed.
Joanna laughed.
“Well, have a pleasant ride.”
The air was brisk, but the sun warmed their faces as they rode along. Emily pressed Andrew, but he said he would reveal his news at the right time. They rode for quite a while as Emily related the story of Captain Walters and Michael Dennings to him.
“Drew, how far must we ride before you tell me what this is about?” she implored.
“Just a little farther, Em.”
Soon they came to a small clearing, and Emily recognized the cabin where she and Jonathon had spent their first night. Memories of their lovemaking flooded her, and her heart raced. She had refused to allow herself those memories for so long, too painful to bear while she believed Jonathon dead. But now she let them wash over her like warm, gentle waves. She blushed at them and was suddenly very warm. She turned to look at Andrew. His face was covered with a wide grin.
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