Emily's Vow

by Betty Bolte

  "I came to check on our investment, after hearing of the troop ships in the harbor." Benjamin landed a final pat to Frank's back before stepping away. His eyes landed on Emily, and she moved closer to Frank. "Miss Sullivan? You're looking lovely, as always."

  "Thank you, Major Hanson. It has been too long since we've enjoyed the pleasure of your company at dinner." Emily smiled at him, her happiness at his presence apparent in the glow of her eyes.

  A worm of jealousy wiggled through Frank at the joy she expressed in the simple smile directed at Benjamin. What did she see when she looked at him?

  "Perhaps we can rectify that while I'm in town." Benjamin performed a half bow.

  "I'm sure we'd like that." Her expression hopeful, she sought Frank's agreement. "Wouldn't we, Frank?"

  "Of course," Frank said after a pause. "I believe Miss Abernathy will also enjoy seeing you again."

  "Amy? My apologies, I mean Miss Abernathy?" Benjamin grinned. "She's in town?"

  Emily nodded once. "I know she'll be glad to see you again, Major. We're having our Allhallows Eve celebration next week. Perhaps you'd care to join us?"

  Benjamin took her hand and squeezed it. Frank tried hard not to glare at his friend. Benjamin couldn't possibly know what had transpired between Frank and Emily in his absence. Indeed Frank couldn't say what it might lead to at this point. After all, Emily, though unwillingly being courted, was still a single, available, and enticing woman.

  "I'd like to very much." Benjamin touched his lips to the back of her hand before releasing it. "Perhaps even sooner, if the situation allows."

  "Situation?" Frank moved closer to Emily's side. When she smiled up at him, laying her hand on his arm, he relaxed. A little.

  "I received your message," Benjamin said. "We need a plan in place to avert further interest in certain, shall we say, imports."

  "What kind of imports?" Emily asked. "My father has many imports in the house and his shop from around the world. They fascinate me as much as seeing all these curious and strange items this afternoon. You've got my curiosity piqued, sir."

  Above Emily's eye level, Frank shook his head at Benjamin, alarm in his heart. He tried to telegraph caution in one simple movement. No, don't let her know about her father's business. She need not know a word about it. No good could come of her awareness.

  "We'll talk later," Benjamin said, silently acquiescing to the subtle warning. "I'm sure Miss Sullivan is not interested in discussing a subject as boring to women as politics."

  Emily stiffened beside Frank. She wouldn't take the slight easily, given her penchant for knowing and understanding the ins and outs of the current affairs between the British and the Americans. Frank placed his hand on top of hers, and she glanced at him before turning her gaze back to Benjamin.

  "Pray tell, Major," she said slowly, "why I should not know what occurs in my town?"

  Emily spoke evenly, perhaps too evenly for Benjamin's own good. Frank could have told him that her measured tone indicated annoyance strapped down under strict control. At least temporarily. Careful, friend. Tread lightly or this could be entertaining.

  Benjamin chuckled. "Women have no need to worry about anything outside of the domestic domain they rule over with such aplomb. It's the men's job to be watchful and protect our women and children from danger and unnecessary worry."

  "Unnecessary?" Emily's tone contained a razor's edge.

  Her hand trembled beneath his, but Frank did not let go.

  "Miss Sullivan, I believe, does not agree with your opinion." Frank tried to diffuse the tension radiating from Emily's quivering body. He felt her anger coursing through her. Felt the heat of her racing pulse against his fingers. "She has always been well versed in the politics of town."

  Benjamin shrugged then winked. "A fact that most likely caused her brothers no little discomfiture, truth be told."

  Frank winced when Emily gripped his arm tighter.

  "Excuse me?" Emily blinked owlishly. "My brothers taught me about politics and strategy and other supposedly men-only topics. Topics not so complicated as you seem to think. Perhaps women have the greater intellect after all."

  Squaring his shoulders, Benjamin straightened to his full height and grinned at Emily. "Then pray explain why girls grow up so ignorant of the world."

  "That's simple." Emily sniffed with disdain though kept a pleasant expression as she lightly shrugged. "Because men are ultimately cowards."

  "Cowards?" Benjamin's eyes widened and sparkled with mirth. "Why would you say such a thing?"

  "Cowards, because they fear if women discover man's fallacy that women cannot learn, they will be overruled and women will run the town councils. We'd be better off, that's for certain."

  "That's blasphemy!" Benjamin laughed at her statement.

  "Why, because women do not go to war over trifles, and therefore we'd have peace more often than not?" Emily glared at him, her hands on her hips, leaning forward.

  Frank stood speechless. Not from her opinions. No surprises there. No, Emily herself radiated with ardor. She exuded beauty and femininity even while livid with affront. Her skin glowed with the intensity of her passion. Blonde curls bounced when she finished nodding to emphasize her point. Stunned, Frank could only watch the vibrant woman pin Benjamin with her stare.

  "Despite your protestations, my girl," Benjamin said somewhat stiffly, "I'd rather leave the discussion for later."

  "Over a pint at McCrady's, no doubt." Emily dropped her hands to her sides, though they clenched and unclenched repeatedly. "I may join you just to prove my point."

  "You would not dare be so brazen," Benjamin said. "Captain Sullivan would never allow such behavior from his precious daughter. But if you want to take on your father's ire, feel free to join us."

  "Do not put it past her." Little did Benjamin realize how often Emily disobeyed her father's wishes in order to fulfill her duty as she saw fit. Unsure as to why Emily pushed Benjamin thus, Frank still felt the conversation quickly spinning out of control. His job continued to be to protect Emily, not allow her to fall into more trouble. "Miss Sullivan has other obligations this afternoon, so she really cannot and must not accept such an invitation."

  He prayed she'd agree with his intervention so she did not earn her father's disapproval yet again. A mutinous frown emerged on her face, darkening her lovely eyes, but lasted only a moment before clearing away. Relief settled over Frank as her expression cleared.

  "As much as I would dearly love to take you up on your challenge, Major, we'll have to do so another time as I'm afraid Captain Thomson is correct." She squeezed Frank's arm. "In fact, I'm sure we must be going. Frank?"

  Definitely. "I had not realized the time. Excuse us, Benjamin. I'll send word when we can pursue this discussion further. Lock up on your way out, will you?" He quickly ushered Emily away from Benjamin, steering her around the boxes and crates as they made their way to the door.

  "I look forward to dinner, Miss Emily." Benjamin's laugh echoed in the cavernous building. "And becoming reacquainted with Miss Amy."

  * * *

  The street in front of the Exchange swarmed with a mix of townspeople and soldiers. Frank took up a position on the fringe of the crowd near a small tree and waited, trying to gauge what urgent news needed to be relayed to the entire assembly. The two-story Old Exchange, with its triple white arches, elegant columns, and flanking staircases leading to a wide sidewalk in front of the doors, provided an imposing background to the crowd. Built in 1769, it served as a merchant exchange and customs house. Business transactions occurred within the open air space of the first floor, while the top floor boasted a great hall used both for important gatherings and as a ballroom for the wealthy socialites of Charles Town. The British called the basement, originally designed as a warehouse with iron bars on the windows to prevent theft, the Provost or dungeon and imprisoned patriots within its walls. An armed guard stood at the street-side steps leading down to the dungeon's door. Hopefully the British
wouldn't find the rumored thousands of pounds of gunpowder supposedly hidden within the depths of the basement.

  The arrival of another contingent of loyalist soldiers caused a stir in the crowd and drew Frank's attention. He stiffened away from the tree. Damnation. John Bradley led the group. The bastard had some nerve to show up at the town meeting as if entitled to be there. Maybe the despised major, being a true loyalist, had more right than Frank did, a little voice whispered. Frank exhaled, releasing the tension building in his neck. No point in focusing on Bradley when he represented one small fish in this ocean of deception. But damn it, he wanted his brother's house back. In good shape. He may eventually be able to reclaim it, but in what condition? From what he'd heard, little hope remained of securing possession of the place intact the way Jedediah had built it. For many patriots, loyalists confiscated their homes and the British destroyed them before they departed.

  But Frank had a plan, one certain to yield the desired results. He merely needed to bide his time and plant the right seeds of doubt into the appropriate ears of the loyalist forces. He knew how to handle that.

  He returned Dirk's salute as the councilman crossed the open area in front of the Old Exchange, heading to intercept Captain Sullivan, no doubt. Although Frank had suggested to the captain that Dirk's son would be a good lad to sign on as an apprentice, the captain had not committed to hiring him. Being responsible for the education and ultimate livelihood of a lad took some adjustment. A heavy weight rested on Frank's shoulders, resulting from the knowledge that Sawyer depended on him, unaware of how little Frank actually understood of what being a newsman entailed. He could masquerade like the best of them, though, and ensure no one ever suspected the deception.

  He'd come to terms with the necessity of the sham but longed for the day the farce ended. Still, an honest living suited his plans better than spying and undercover operations during this bloody, devastating war. The fighting had nearly ceased throughout the colonies now, except for around the last British occupied cities: Charles Town and New York. Once the peace treaty displayed the appropriate signatures, even that skirmishing would end. The British would go home to their own shores and leave Charles Town in peace.

  A dark head with darker beard appeared on the edge of the crowd of men and women gathering for the town meeting. Sergeant Graham served as a trusted aide to General Greene for two years now, and had come to Frank's rescue on more than one occasion. Simply put, Frank owed Graham his life. Acknowledging the silent request to join him, Frank wended his way through the growing mass of people.

  The notice issued last evening called for an assembly of the townspeople for a special announcement. No word as to what the announcement might be, though. Curious about what the occupation forces wanted to say to the city's residents, Frank guaranteed he attended. If nothing else, he'd have news for the paper.

  Dirk had indeed caught up with the captain. A quick handshake between the two men suggested they'd reached an agreement. Perhaps young Reynolds had secured a new apprenticeship after all. Scanning the crowd, he found himself looking for Emily's blonde curls. A futile effort, since her father ordered her to stay home. Maybe she'd even do so.

  "Captain Thomson," the brawny man said when Frank reached him, "good seeing you."

  "You have word?" Frank continued to let his gaze roam the crowd, appearing to have a casual chat with an acquaintance and hoping no one grasped the true importance of the conversation. Despite the cooler fall air, sweat gathered at the small of his back.

  "Aye, we have what we need. You're to stay in place and continue as planned."

  "Understood." Frank smiled as Mrs. Manning strolled past on her husband's arm, looking as fresh as a newly opened pansy. After all the horrors the town had witnessed, the Mannings reflected the resilience of the people. If they also reflected the future of Charles Town, the sweet promise of independence yielded hope.

  A contingent of British officers arrived, including the commanding officer, Colonel Balfour. The tall man climbed the steps leading to the airy level of the Old Exchange two at a time with easy strides. Once in position to look down over the gathered people, the colonel raised one hand for silence. A hush spread through the crowd packing the street.

  "It's been brought to my attention that some of you feel it is acceptable to support the patriotic cause within this town." He paused and scanned the crowd, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I assure you, my fellow British and loyalist friends, that until an official peace has been settled, to do so continues to amount to treason."

  Frank grimaced at the gasp followed by smattered clapping the man's declaration elicited.

  Apparently pleased with the reaction, the colonel continued. "I've ordered an increased diligence from my officers to ensure our enemies are not to be found within the town limits as long as British troops occupy it. The security of this town is my highest priority. That is all." The colonel descended the steps, surrounded by several of his officers.

  Realizing he'd have to step up his efforts to reclaim his property, Frank peered at Graham.

  "Can you do something for me?"

  A hard glint shone in the man's eyes as he looked at Frank. "Anything you need, sir, I'm your man."

  Frank stepped closer. "Here's what I want you to do."

  * * *

  Hours later Graham entered McCrady's, sidling between the groups of men talking and drinking. A low cloud of pipe smoke swirled lazily in the air. His uniform showed signs of a tussle. Grimly Frank ordered him an ale.

  "You were right."

  "You managed entry?" Frank held his breath, anxious for news as to the status of his former home.

  "Aye, and so far it looks in fair shape." The man hesitated, then resumed. "Mostly, that is."

  Coldness settled on Frank's shoulders as he sipped his drink. "Tell me."

  A quick nod and a gulp preceded the man's tale. "The main floor parlor is their headquarters, you know. They've made some... changes to it."

  Frank gripped the blue bottle. Jedediah had invested a great deal of time and money into perfecting the cedar inlaid floor and massive stone fireplace. If they destroyed his brother's house, he'd seek his own kind of revenge. "Go on."

  "The floor's been stripped out and replaced with pine. I think I seen the red wood used for the Major's travel chest. Least, the chest were made from thin strips of wood, like the flooring."

  "The bastard... What else?"

  "Sorry for it, sir, but he's taken down the heavy drapes and gotten rid of them. I couldn't discover where they went. My gut says they're aboard one of them ships at anchor." He took a long draught of his ale.

  An outburst drew their attention toward the back of the room. Two sailors proceeded to settle their disagreement with fists. Grunts and thuds filled the crowded room, competing with the laughter and cheers urging them on. Shaking his head, Frank turned back to Graham.

  "They'll pay for that in the morning, I dare say. But, what of the furnishings? The table Jedediah built?"

  "Nowhere I saw. Probably used for firewood, knowing the man."

  Frank slammed the bottle onto the bar, breaking it into five large pieces, ale spilling across the scarred surface. "Bloody hell!"

  The barkeeper appeared suddenly and discarded the pieces, mopping up the mess with a rag. "Get ya another?"

  Frank shook his head, then focused on Graham as the barkeeper stumped away. "I imagine he's stripped anything of value from the place as well?"

  "At least it is still standing. The house can be repaired after they evacuate."

  Frank hunched his shoulders as he shook his head. "It's not over yet, friend. The bastards are capable of anything. They're desperate enough to wreak havoc on everything left behind. We've seen that before."

  "Aye, but it will be over soon if the treaty is signed as expected."

  "Keep your eyes open, and don't let your guard down." Frank tossed coins on the bar. "Tomorrow I'll put the wheels in motion to get my house back befor
e the bastard destroys it."

  Chapter 12

  Emily woke to snuffling and whimpering. Moon glow illuminated the cradle by her bed and its tiny occupant, arms flailing and head thrashing. "Tommy!"

  She pushed back the quilt and rushed to his side. Her fingertips encountered searing heat when she touched his forehead. Lifting the baby, she hugged him close and hurried down the hall to her father's room. Bursting inside, relief washed over her when she saw him waking before she said a word.

  "Father, Tommy still has a fever." Panting from her run, she paused to catch her breath. "Please. We need the doctor."

  "Now, my dear," he said, putting his feet on the floor, "calm down and let me see what we have here before we wake the poor man from his rest." He slipped on his dressing robe over his night shirt, tying the belt in one fluid motion. He looked at the boy, felt his head, a frown lodging between his eyes. "Should have done this earlier, but you convinced me not to worry. The old ways are never as good as a trained doctor, I always say."

  Going out to the hall, he hollered for Solomon and sent him to fetch the doctor. He turned back to confront his daughter. "Now we wait."

  Wait? She shook her head. "We need to cool this fever or he'll die. A wet cloth may help." Emily hurried with Tommy out of the room and downstairs to the dining room and its ready pitcher of water.

  "Likely not." Her father trailed after her.

  "I have to do something in the meantime." She sponged cool water onto the child quietly fretting in her lap. "I hope Solomon hurries."

  "He's fast and trustworthy. He won't come back without the doctor."

  Twenty anxious minutes later Emily heard the front door open and voices in the hall.

  "Where's the child?" Doctor Cunningham strode into the room, a black leather bag in hand, a young man silently following him. A frown marred Dr. Cunningham's usually pleasant features. He caught Emily's eye and held it. "Well? I haven't all night."