“I think you forget,” Sam said softly. “This backwoods jackanapes, as you call him, is my son. He is the rightful heir to Walker Ridge.”
Her face twisted with hatred, she swung around and fled the room.
Chance let out a low whistle as the door banged behind her. “The lady,” he murmured, “has no love of us, I think.”
“Do you know,” Sam replied with mock astonishment, “I believe you are right.”
Both men chuckled, relieved that the ugly scene was behind them. After a few minutes’ more conversation, they went in search of their wives. Since the morning was fine, they found the ladies strolling contentedly in the rose gardens, a few hardy blooms still showing their brightly petaled heads.
Both looked up expectantly, and after greeting his mother and wife, Chance said quietly, “She is leaving for England.”
“Thank goodness,” Fancy exclaimed. “Now if Jonathan will only prove to be as accommodating.”
* * *
Unaware of the calamity that had befallen him, Jonathan returned home to Foxfield Monday evening in a rather smug frame of mind. He had gone visiting to a friend’s plantation, a good day’s ride from Foxfield, and had thoroughly enjoyed himself. The trip had proved timely. His friend had been entertaining relatives from Philadelphia, rich, influential relatives who just happened to have their charming daughter with them. Their charming daughter who was their only child. Jonathan had been much taken with the young heiress, thinking she would do very well as a bride for him, and it was apparent that she found him equally attractive.
Striding up the steps to Foxfield, he had been whistling to himself, happily contemplating the future with his lovely bride at his side. She didn’t have a title, it was true, but she was close at hand, and her family was well connected. Before she returned with her parents to Philadelphia, Jonathan intended to have won her hand.
Entering his study, he tossed his hat and gloves on a nearby table, then poured himself a glass of port. Seated behind his desk, his boots propped upon the shiny surface, he slowly drank his wine, savoring the future. The Thackers would take care of Chance for him; he was going to marry a delightfully naive young heiress; and soon enough Sam would die and he would be in complete control of all the Walker wealth. He was very pleased with himself.
He noticed the missive from his mother lying on a silver salver on the corner of his desk, and recognizing her handwriting, he sighed. Now what the devil did she want?
His contented mood vanished when he read the news contained in his mother’s note. He swore viciously as he flung the note down. Annie returned. Constance had not gone into detail, but from her jumbled words it was obvious that the worst had happened.
Jonathan frowned blackly, his mind racing. But all was not lost, he thought suddenly, relaxing slightly. It was Constance who had committed the crime, not he. It was his mother who had ordered Annie to dispose of the baby; he’d been a mere child himself and utterly blameless. And as for learning the truth and not saying anything ... His agile brain quickly came up with a likely reason for his silence: he had been stunned and appalled by what he had learned, and while he’d had every intention of telling Sam and Letty, he had naturally wanted to protect his mother. He had only been holding his tongue until he could get her safely away and shielded from the worst of the scandal. He smiled. That should take care of anything Annie might have said concerning his knowledge of the affair. And as for Chance ... He smiled nastily. The Thackers were going to take care of Chance for him. With Chance dead, he would still be the heir.
He rang for Simmons. Perhaps his valet had heard from the Thackers and Chance was already dead. Wonderful thought, that.
Simmons entered a moment later. Bowing, he asked, “Yes, master? Is there something you wanted?”
There was a note in Simmons’s voice that made Jonathan look at him sharply, but seeing nothing except bland politeness on the man’s face, he demanded, “Have you heard any word from those rascally cousins of yours?”
Simmons looked suitably saddened, although there was a gleam in his eyes that was at variance with the expression on his sallow features. “You have not heard, master? Everyone has been talking about it.” With relish, he added, “It seems that my poor misguided cousins attacked Master Chance and his bride at their plantation some days ago and were both killed. Such a tragedy.”
Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like Simmons’s attitude at all. And the news he had imparted was devastating. Thackers dead. Chance alive.
A malicious glitter in his eyes, Simmons said softly, “While you have been gone, there has been great excitement, sir. Master Chance and his bride arrived on Friday with news of their narrow escape, but that was nothing to the news that Master Sam announced just yesterday to all of us connected with Walker Ridge: apparently information has come to light proving that Master Chance is Master Sam and Mistress Letty’s only child.” The malice more open, he continued pleasantly, “It seems your mother tried to get rid of the child at birth. Who would have suspected her of such a dastardly act? Everyone is quite stunned—no one can talk of anything else.” Complacently, he ended with, “Master Sam has written to the Walker relatives, explaining all to them, and has notified his attorney in Williamsburg. I believe that your mother left for Richmond to catch a ship for England only this morning. Such a pity that you could not be with her in her hour of need.”
Jonathan’s face was white by the time Simmons finished speaking. Good God! That bastard Chance had moved swiftly. The news was no doubt already spreading like wildfire through the colony, and before the end of the month everyone would know. There was no way to conceal Chance’s real identity now. Jonathan swore and slammed his fist upon the desk.
Glaring at Simmons, he snapped, “I know that I should not have trusted those worthless cousins of yours. I should have taken care of things myself.”
Simmons looked innocent. “Oh? Were the Thackers working for you?” He smiled. Wolfishly. “That is not something that you would want for public knowledge, is it?”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“Oh, just that I think that I have worked for you long enough and that I would like to try my hand at something new. Of course,” he added lightly, “I would need a stake ... um, something like double the amount you were going to pay my cousins to kill Chance Walker for you.”
“Are you trying to blackmail me?” Jonathan thundered, his eyes bright with rage.
Simmons rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Ah, no. I am simply looking out for my own future. And since yours has changed so dramatically during these past few days, I think it behooves me to watch out for myself. I mean, after all, you are no longer in line to inherit much, are you? And as for speaking of my, er, disposal of my former employer ... I am afraid that if you were to mention it, why, I would just have to mention your little arrangement with my cousins.” Letting his satisfaction show, he smiled and added sweetly, “Quite a change in circumstances, is it not?”
“By God, you are not going to get away with this. I will see you dead before I pay you one penny.”
Simmons shrugged. “Whatever you say ... but I would like my money within the hour. My bags are already packed and I plan to be gone from here before dark.”
Jonathan stared at him, knowing that he was trapped. So angry he couldn’t think straight, he bounded up from behind his desk and stalked over to the large hunting print that hung on the wall and concealed the safe where he kept a large of supply of gold. “I will pay you this time, you damned blackmailer, but never again.” After pushing aside the picture, he swiftly opened the safe and, reaching inside, extracted a small bag of gold from the several that lay stacked together. His back to Simmons as he started to shut the safe, he growled, “You will take what I give you, and if I ever see your murderous face again—”
Simmons had stealthily closed the distance between them, and as Jonathan started to turn around, he suddenly felt the other man’s presence ... and the sharp bite
of a knife at his throat.
“No,” Simmons said softly as he kept the blade of his knife against Jonathan’s neck, “I will take exactly what I want.”
A swift, vicious slash and Jonathan fell to the floor, his throat cut nearly to the bone. His life blood pouring out, he dimly heard Simmons say, “So thoughtful of you to keep so much gold on hand. I am certain that it will take me a long way from here.”
Coolly stepping over Jonathan’s dead body, Simmons helped himself liberally to all the bags of gold. Smiling, he quickly exited the study, locking the door behind him. It would be hours before Jonathan’s body would be discovered. Ten minutes later Simmons was on a horse, riding swiftly away. Now where, he wondered, would he go? Spanish territory? He had heard New Orleans was a most sinful city. He smiled. It sounded like just the place for a fellow like him.
Epilogue
Fair Horizons
Late Spring 1775
Look, how my ring encompasseth thy finger,
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
William Shakespeare,
King Richard III
Chapter Twenty-five
The storm, Letty thought uneasily, reminded her a little too vividly of the terrible storm that had raged the night that Chance had been born. The wind was howling and the rain pounding fiercely against the house, and her gaze slid worriedly to Fancy. Fancy had been in labor since yesterday afternoon, and as Letty watched her, the young woman groaned softly on the big bed as another contraction hit her. Please, Letty prayed fervently, please let this birthing be normal. Please let nothing go wrong.
Her glance met Ellen’s, and seeing the girl’s anxious features, Letty pushed aside her own fears and memories and said softly, “Do not fret, dear. Having a baby takes time.”
“I know,” Ellen said quickly, “and Fancy has not been in labor overly long. It is just that the baby is very early, is it not? I thought it was not due for weeks yet.”
Letty smiled. “Babies decide when they arrive, and I am very much afraid that they do not look at calendars.”
The contraction having passed, Fancy muttered, “Early or not, I just wish affairs would move more swiftly. It seems that I have been lying here struggling for days, and so far I have nothing to show for it.”
Letty chuckled, and after wringing out a cloth where it lay in a bowl of cool water, she tenderly wiped the signs of perspiration from Fancy’s temples. “I know it seems like a long time, dear, but it is just twenty-fours ago that your water broke. You young people are just so impatient.”
There was no sting in Letty’s words, and despite her great discomfort, Fancy smiled at her. In the months that had passed since Chance’s parentage had been revealed, Fancy and her in-laws had become very close, and she had decided some time ago that she could not have wished for a kinder or more understanding mother-in-law.
It had been a tumultuous several months that they had endured together, the news of Chance’s true identity and the events surrounding the night of his birth rocking the society in which the Walkers moved. Of course, the family stood firm, but there were those who whispered that Sam was merely attempting to foist off his bastard on them and that Letty was a fool for condoning it. But those people were few, and most believed Sam’s version of what had happened. The fact that Constance was not universally liked made it easier for everyone to accept that she was quite capable of such a wicked act. Of course, there would always be those who were firmly convinced that the Walkers were pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes, but for the most part, Chance had been warmly received as Sam and Letty’s legitimate son.
Jonathan’s shocking murder tended to cloud the issue, and there was a great deal of speculation all that winter about the coincidence of Jonathan’s death and the revelation of Chance’s parentage. The pity felt for Constance upon the murder of her only son helped temper some of the public disgust with her ugly deed, but it was felt by all to be a good thing that she had decided to live quietly in England.
There was no mystery about who had murdered Jonathan; the open safe, the missing gold, and the disappearance of his valet, Simmons, made it obvious what must have occurred.
Sam had offered a huge reward for his capture, but Simmons seemed to have vanished into thin air. Privately Chance thought that the fellow had done them all a favor, but he kept that opinion to himself.
Not surprisingly, being acknowledged as the Walker heir had caused a huge upheaval in Chance’s and Fancy’s lives. There was no question of them continuing to live at Devil’s Own; Chance was now the Walker of Walker Ridge. With a certain amount of regret, in November they had bade their first home good-bye and had moved into the elegant house they now shared with Sam and Letty.
It had been a wise move; there was much that Chance had to learn as the man who would one day control the Walker fortune. With Jonathan gone, it was necessary for him to quickly grasp the reins of the immense Walker empire. As the months passed, more and more Sam relied upon his son to handle the family affairs.
Devil’s Own had not been abandoned. Hugh and Ellen had married at Christmas and eagerly accepted Chance’s offer to run the plantation and the horse-breeding operation until such time as Hugh would take over his own father’s estates, an event they all hoped would be a long time in the future.
The news that Fancy was to have a child had delighted Chance and thrilled the prospective grandparents. Fancy found herself coddled and cosseted by her husband and his parents to the extent that she was hardly allowed to lift a finger to help herself. And despite her laughing protests that they were all spoiling her, the loving trio simply ignored her and continued to do just that.
The past several months had proved to be a turbulent time not only for Chance and Fancy, but for all of the British colonies. The scent of war permeated the air everywhere. In March of this year, the firebrand Patrick Henry, at St. John’s Church in Richmond, had declared, “Give me liberty or give me death.” Four weeks later the British had fired upon the Minutemen at Lexington in Massachusetts. Virginia’s governor, Lord Dunmore, fearful of the hotheaded young rebels, had fled, leaving the Virginians in charge of their own fate. The Continental Congress was to meet in Philadelphia in the summer, and there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that war with England was imminent.
At Walker Ridge they were insulated somewhat from the furor, but no one could be unaware of what was happening. As Fancy’s time neared, the coming baby pushed the momentous events taking place in Williamsburg, Boston, and other parts of the Colonies into the background.
That the baby had decided to come several weeks ahead of schedule had alarmed Chance and Sam, but smiling serenely, Letty had pushed them from the room and told them, as she had Ellen, “Babies come when they are ready.”
She was not feeling quite so serene now. Watching as another contraction ripped through Fancy, she bit her lip. Had she been overconfident? Was something wrong? She thought not. The pregnancy had progressed normally, and Fancy was young and strong; despite all their scoldings, she had continued to walk at least a mile every day, even with her hugely swollen belly and equally swollen feet.
Everything should go just fine, Letty told herself firmly. And the storm was just a coincidence. Not an omen.
Just then Fancy gave a sharp gasp, and leaning over to check the progress, Letty exclaimed with as much relief as excitement, “Oh, push, dear. The head is there. Push!”
Ellen rushed to the door and flung it wide, motioning to Chance, who had been pacing anxiously up and down the long hallway. Smiling at him, she said, “The baby is coming.”
Chance had not liked being banished from the birthing room, and only Fancy’s promise that she would have Ellen bring him in when the baby was finally ready to make its appearance had placated him. Sam, his expression worried, yet full of anticipation, stood uncertainly in the doorway, yearning to enter but not wanting to intrude at this most intimate time.
Sam might have remained there indefinitely, but Fancy suddenly gave a powerful push, and with a loud, heartfelt groan, her child was born. Scooping up the squalling bundle, Letty cried, “Oh, Sam, ’tis a boy! Come see!”
Sam needed no further urging, and as Letty laid the newborn babe in Fancy’s outstretched arms, Sam was hovering just behind Chance’s shoulder. After staring wonderingly at the baby, Sam met Letty’s eyes. “Our grandson,” he murmured reverently, hardly daring to believe the miracle.
“And our son,” Chance said proudly, his eyes resting caressingly on Fancy’s tired features.
Fancy stared in bemusement at the tiny, wrinkled face. Her son. She and Chance had created a new life, this wonderful, wonderful child she held in her arms. Her heart blossomed with fierce emotion. She had thought that she could love no other person as strongly as she did Chance, but she realized that she had been wrong; this small bit of humanity engendered a love as lasting and as powerful as the emotion she shared with her husband.
Almost hesitantly Chance asked, “May I hold him?”
Watching the extreme tenderness with which Chance lifted his son, Fancy smiled. Chance would be a good father.
With the parents’ permission, the newborn was eventually passed into the eager, trembling arms of his grandparents, and as she watched the elderly couple marvel at his perfect form, Fancy’s eyes stung. They had missed so very much, but if God was kind, they would be allowed to gain much of what they had lost because of Constance’s greed.
Happy that the birth was over, Fancy was simply enjoying the aftermath, watching Chance as he stared at his son, who once more lay in her arms, and then staring in wonderment herself at the miracle they had made.
A cramp made her frown, and seeing her expression, Letty said calmly, “No doubt it is the afterbirth.”
A Heart for the Taking Page 40