Charity's Cross

by Marylu Tyndall

A door opened. Outside, the sun shone bright and clear, and the air was fresh. Inside was darkness, stale odor, and hate. A pouch of money appeared in her hand. A man made entirely of light filled the doorway, gesturing her forward.

  She could leave. She could be free! But wait. If she left, she’d disgrace her family, she’d lose her title and fortune. She’d be nothing but a poor admiral’s daughter again.

  She hesitated. The door shut.

  Darkness consumed her. Lord Villemont’s squealy laughter scraped down her spine. Like an executioner’s drum, his footsteps approached.

  Another door opened. The light beckoned. “Come, come, I will keep you safe,” the voice said, the kindest, most loving voice she’d ever heard. She must go. She could leave. But no…

  The door slammed shut.

  Darkness again. Her sister Hope screaming for help.

  “Where are you, Hope? Where are you? I’m coming.” Charity groped through the thick blackness.

  Lord Villemont laughed. His sharp slap stung her face. She tumbled backward and landed on the floor as Hope’s weeping faded.

  Steam from the teapot rose to mingle with the afternoon sun streaming through the windows of her parlor. Charity ran a hand over her belly and smiled, then checked the rest of her attire, making sure there were no rips or stains or wrinkles which would embarrass his Lordship in front of his guests.

  Then he stood before her, dressed in his usual glimmer and fluff, a pistol at his hip. Why? Ah, yes, that’s right. He was assisting the constable on a legal matter. She remained still, as was required, while his dark eyes assessed her for some unknown infraction. The stench of brandy surrounding him didn’t bode well for his mood. Charity swallowed the bitter taste in her throat as everything shifted into the slow motion of a horrifying nightmare…

  The grate of carriage wheels outside the window, the scent of tea and brandy, Lord Villemont angry about something…

  She couldn’t make out his words. He struck her face. She fell backward onto the settee. He slapped her again, his ring slicing her lip. Clutching her hair, he dragged her up. She struggled to be free.

  He drew back his fist to punch her in the stomach.

  No! Not my baby! Not again! She grabbed the gun, cocked it, and pointed it at him. It trembled in her hand.

  He laughed. “You pathetic little whore.” He charged her, gripped the weapon, and tried to yank it from her hands.

  POP!

  Charity’s eyes snapped open. She flung off the covers, heart racing, breath panting, and damp with perspiration. Threads of bright light wove through a crack in the curtains. She breathed a ragged sigh and brushed hair from her face.

  Sobbing, she slid off the bed and dropped to knees. She’d suspected what Villemont had done to her sister Hope. She knew something was terribly wrong from the look on her sisters’ faces, the whispers behind her back. When she confronted him, he denied it, said they were jealous that she’d found a man of title and wealth while they were but spinsters. But she knew. Tears spilled over her lashes. And she’d done nothing. Stupid, stupid woman!

  God had warned her not to marry Lord Villemont, through her family, through her own instincts. But she had not listened. Then after she was married, God had opened doors for her to escape. Yes, as the memories flooded back, there’d been at least three times when she had the money and means to leave and return to her family—two before they moved across the pond to Charles Towne, and one afterward. But she had stayed. At first for the title and fortune, the respect—things that in retrospect now seemed so unimportant. Then, she’d stayed because everyone loved Lord Villemont, a pillar of Portsmouth society, and leaving him would bring irreparable shame to her family. Besides, he kept promising never to strike her again, that things would get better between them. And like a fool, she believed him.

  However the final reason she stayed trumped all the others. He threatened to hunt her down and kill her if she left him.

  So she stayed, instead of trusting God.

  Josiah was right. God had been trying to rescue her all along, but she had kept making the wrong choices, thwarting His plans. And in the end, she’d blamed Him for it.

  Charity fell to the floor in a heap as deep, gut-wrenching sorrow consumed her in wave after wave until she could hardly breathe. “I’m so sorry, Lord. I’m so sorry. I’ve made a muck of things. If I had only listened to You. If I’d only believed.”

  Silence invaded the room, so deafening it seemed to swallow her whole. She pushed from the floor and wiped her face, gazing upward. “Father, please help me.” Would God hear her? Would He care? Or was it too late for her?

  Warmth encased her. Not the warmth offered by the sun, a roaring fire, or a thick quilt. But a warmth that bloomed deep within her. It radiated through her belly, her chest, then out every limb.

  I’ve always loved you, daughter. All is forgiven.

  Her heart leapt as she heard the words clearly in her spirit.

  Now, my child, you must go tell Elias the truth.

  Chapter 27

  “Mr. Ballard, Sir. May I speak with you?”

  Ignoring the young maid’s voice behind him, Ballard continued out the front door of the Bennett manor, nodding at the butler holding the door open as he went. He hadn’t time to deal with whatever minor issue the staff had and hoped she’d go away.

  But she didn’t go away. She dashed down the front steps after him as he took the reins of a horse from the groomsman.

  “Mr. Ballard, a word, Sir?”

  Huffing, he faced her. “Miss, I fear I’m quite late for an appointment. Is it urgent?” Yet he couldn’t imagine what the woman could possibly say that would be of import to him. At least not as important as his meeting with Nelson in town—one that he’d arranged last night. Word was this Charles Gregson, Lord Villemont, had arrived in Bridgetown, and he and Nelson were waiting for Ballard’s directions to Bennett manor. Why? They wouldn’t disclose the specifics, only to say that Elias Dutton would suffer.

  And that was enough for Ballard.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, Sir, but yes, I think it’s urgent. It’s about Miss Charity and Mr. Dutton.”

  The horse snorted and pawed the ground. Ballard slid on his gloves, studying the maid. “Do tell.”

  “The truth is I ’aven’t known who to tell, but I see you’re a good friend of Mr. Dutton an’—”

  “Tell what, Miss? And hurry with it.”

  “It’s Miss Charity. You see I ’elped with ’er dressing nigh’ afore last and she …” The maid glanced down.

  “Out with it!” Ballard grabbed the pommel and swung onto his horse.

  “She’s with child, Sir.”

  Ballard nearly lost his balance. The horse bucked, and he quickly tightened the reins lest the animal toss him to the ground.

  He stared down at the young woman. “Are you sure?”

  “Aye, Sir. I recognize the condition from when Mrs. Bennett was in the same way.”

  Interesting. Very interesting. Ballard smiled. Whatever Nelson and Villemont had planned, it couldn’t be as delicious as this. However, since Elias had departed early that morning, and no one knew when he would return, Ballard might as well join forces with Nelson and Villemont and cause even more damage.

  “Thank you, Miss. You can be sure I will handle the situation with the utmost care.”

  ♥♥♥

  After rising and donning a fresh gown—chosen from among the many Rose had deposited in the wardrobe—Charity all but floated down the stairs toward the dining hall. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt different, as if a huge weight had been wrenched from her shoulders and tossed into the sea. She couldn’t wait to tell Elias about her newfound faith and her talk with God. Well…at least some of it.

  Apparently everyone had already eaten, for there was no one in the dining hall save a footman and a maid ready to serve her. A balmy breeze wafted in through open French doors, where she spotted the sun high in the sky, shimmering light on waving palms an
d flitting birds. Shame heated her at how long she’d slept.

  Though she was anxious to speak with Elias and check on Rose and the baby, the scents of fresh papaya, bananas, eggs, and sausage lured her to at least sit for a moment and enjoy a small bit of the delicious-smelling food, along with a cup of Jamaican coffee. That bit turned into an entire plateful as she found her appetite nearly insatiable.

  Even the footman’s brows lifted at the amount of food she consumed, but when she inquired after Elias, he informed her Mr. Dutton had left early that morn to meet the master in town and then attend the Assembly meeting.

  “Mr. Bennett has arrived home?” she asked the tall, light-haired man.

  “Indeed, Miss. We received word his ship arrived just before dawn.”

  With that happy news in hand, Charity sought out Rose, but the housekeeper told her she and the babe were sleeping. So Charity wandered around the house, admiring the teak and Spanish cedar furniture, coral tiles covering the floors, marble statues of angels, and painted vases filled with freshly picked flowers, all the while enjoying the cool breezes that swept through the house from all directions. She ended up in the parlor near the front entrance where she spotted paintings of various pirates hanging on the wall—all done by the elusive LM—Elias’ mother. She smiled. Finally, as the sun sank toward the horizon, she strolled through the garden, stopping to gaze at the endless fields of sugar cane waving in the breeze—a sea of lustrous green—and breathed in the air scented by sweet flowers, earthy loam, and the sea. What a beautiful place to live.

  If only that were possible…

  But she knew it wasn’t. God had ordered her to tell Elias the truth. And she must do so. She must, for once, follow His will and not her own. Though Elias might be able to forgive her delicate condition because of his own indiscretion, he would never forgive her for all her lies. She couldn’t blame him. After Rachel, he needed a woman he could trust. And Charity had proven she was not that woman.

  After she told him her sordid tale, she would leave this beautiful place and make her way to Charles Towne—if Elias would even allow a murderess to go free. However, she imagined he’d be glad to be rid of her when he discovered the truth. At least she wouldn’t slink away in the middle of the night, leaving him forever wondering why. This way, ’twould be her heart, and her heart alone, that would forever split into a thousand pieces.

  The wail of a newborn brought her back to the house. She found Rose in her bedchamber sitting by an open window, swaddled babe in her arms, and an angelic look on her face. Though the maid had told Charity that Rose was accepting visitors, she hesitated at the door, unsure whether to intrude, but Rose looked up and smiled. “Charity, dearest, come in.”

  Charity rushed to her side. “You must be so thrilled your husband is on his way home!”

  Rose’s eyes twinkled. “I cannot wait to see him.” She glanced lovingly at her baby. “And I cannot wait for him to see his son. He, along with Elias and Caleb, should have already delivered the king’s letter to the Assembly by now. Hopefully that will stop all this madness.”

  “Let us pray so.” Charity slid onto the window seat beside her.

  “Perhaps I should ask you to pray for that.” Rose smiled, then reached for Charity’s hand. “How can I thank you for saving my son?”

  “You know as well as I that I had naught to do with that.”

  “You were obedient to the voice of God. And for that, I owe you all.”

  Charity lowered her chin. ’Twas she who owed these people everything.

  “Would you like to hold him?” Rose asked.

  Delight lifted Charity’s gaze. She swallowed, feeling suddenly overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. The last baby she’d held had been the lifeless body of her daughter. Would she lose control, weep incessantly, and embarrass herself? “Yes, I’d love to.”

  Carefully, Rose transferred the babe into Charity’s arms. He squirmed and made sucking noises with his perfectly-shaped pink lips. Smiling, she held him close and dared to touch his cheek. So soft! He opened his eyes ever so slightly and stared at her…and unable to help it anymore, tears blurred her vision. “He’s perfect.”

  Rose allowed Charity to hold him for nearly an hour before he grew hungry. Yet when Charity started to leave to give her privacy, Rose insisted she stay. Settling down onto a cushioned chair, Charity could hardly believe the lady found her company enjoyable. Yet several hours passed in which they laughed and chatted about all manner of topics. Charity had never had a true friend. Though she’d grown up with three sisters, they’d spent most of their childhood squabbling. This precious woman before her was the friend Charity had always hoped for, longed for, but had never been allowed to have after she married Lord Villemont.

  Boot steps stomped down the hall and a rather handsome man with brown wavy hair, a strong jaw, thick eyebrows, and serious eyes appeared in the doorway.

  Rose nearly leapt from her seat. “Duncan!”

  He sped toward his wife and knelt by her side, caressing her cheek, before he stared down at his son, emotion flooding his eyes.

  Charity slipped quietly from the room, halting in the doorway for the briefest of seconds to watch the exchange, unable to pull herself away from the love pouring between the couple as they rejoiced over their son.

  Would she ever know love like that? Would she ever have a family of her own—a man who would love her child and give her more?

  After Villemont, she vowed never to take a chance. But then came Elias. His love gave her hope that maybe…maybe her dreams could come true after all.

  She wandered down the hall, rubbing her temples where a headache brewed. Mayhap she didn’t have to tell him about Villemont, her marriage, his death at her hand. After all, it seemed her brother-in-law had given up the chase, and it was quite possible no one sought her in the colonies.

  If she told Elias only about the child and then vowed never to lie to him again, would that satisfy God. What good would it do, anyway, to tell Elias everything? Nothing would be gained, and it would only cause him pain.

  Except you would be disobeying God.

  Two hours later, Charity, decked in her evening attire, waited in the library. A servant had delivered a note to her chamber asking her to meet Elias privately before the evening meal. For what purpose, her imagination took flight. Yet each time she allowed her heart to swell with possibility, her hopes were quickly deflated by the fact that she must tell him the truth. The thought of exposing her true nature, revealing her dark heart to this honorable man, made her queasy.

  She paced before the fireplace, realizing she’d never repented for certain unmentionable acts. “Father God, I am truly sorry for killing my husband. ’Twas an accident, as You know.”

  But was she truly sorry? Hadn’t she rejoiced in his death? That joy had long since faded, replaced only today by a rising sorrow for the man. If he hadn’t been a true follower of Christ, he was not in a very nice place at the moment. And despite all his cruelty to her, she didn’t want that end for him. Or anyone.

  “Yes, I am truly sorry, Father. If I had only done as You asked, it would have never happened.”

  Turning, she paced in the other direction as an unusual sense of love and acceptance bubbled up within her. God? She nearly giggled with joy. Could God truly forgive such a horrid sin? Yet she could not deny His presence filling her heart and the warmth tingling down her as if God, Himself, were embracing her.

  “You look lovely.” Elias’ baritone voice drew her gaze to the door where he stood smiling at her as if she were pirate treasure. Dressed in a suit of black velvet with a fine cambric shirt, tall Hessian boots, and his chestnut-colored hair slicked back into a tie, she could only stare as he strode toward her, all man and strength and honor.

  She felt a blush rising. Averting her gaze she fingered the books on the shelf. “I hear you have yet again saved the day.”

  “To which brave feat do you refer? The thwarting of vigilantes last night or standing
with Duncan before the Assembly today?”

  “Both.” She turned and clasped her hands before her, suddenly nervous.

  He started toward her, a half smile on his face and his eyes beaming with affection. “You flatter me, my little mermaid. I had little to do with either success.”

  “I doubt that, Preacher. You have much to do with a good many things.”

  He stopped, shifted his feet uncomfortably and looked away. Was he embarrassed by her flattery? How utterly charming.

  She swept past him, brushing his arm and inhaling a whiff of his scent. No cologne for this man, just a fresh earthy scent that was uniquely him. She sashayed around a chair and table, fingered a lamp, and then nonchalantly examined a tapestry hanging above the mantel—playing the coquette, if only to settle her nerves. However, she found she rather enjoyed the romantic dalliance.

  And by the grin on his face as she glanced his way, he was enjoying it too. Is this what it felt like to be courted by a real gentleman? Loved, sought after, cherished—a wondrous adventure awaiting them both as they plumbed the depths of each other’s souls, discovering common dreams and hopes that forged a bond of eternity.

  Vapors! What was she thinking? Silly, silly woman! Would she never learn?

  He moved to stand beside her.

  She strolled to the far window where a night breeze stirred maroon curtains. “What is it you wish to speak to me about, Elias? I must admit I’m quite famished and anxious for dinner.” Her stomach felt like a tangled ball of wire.

  “If you’d stop running from me for a moment, I’ll be glad to tell you.”

  She turned around and bumped into him. They both laughed.

  He took her hands in his, rubbing her fingers with his thumbs. “Tell me, Charity, after last night’s miracle with the babe, have you made peace with God?”

  “I have. He and I had a long conversation last night.”

  His eyes couldn’t have sparkled brighter. “Pray tell, what did you discuss?”

  “Oh, Elias, ’twas so wonderful.” She squeezed his hands. “I blamed God for everything, when in truth, I had made many of my own choices. In fact, He revealed to me how He’d never left me and every time I called upon Him, He provided a way of escape. But I was too foolish to take them.”