Captured by Love

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Captured by Love Page 22

by Jody Hedlund


  “I guess then I’ll have to trust you.” Jean’s whole body was shaking now. From pain, cold, or fear, Pierre didn’t know. He squeezed his brother’s shoulder, wishing he could comfort him and tell him he had nothing to worry about.

  He wouldn’t lie, though. Not any more than he already had. “I’ll take good care of everything.”

  He refused to think about what would happen to him on the morrow, when he returned to the island after delivering Jean to safety. He had no doubt he’d raise the suspicion of some of the officers, since he’d deceived the colonel into moving part of the army away from the battle.

  Just the thought of his lies burned his soul. And he knew he had to be done with the spying. He couldn’t betray the colonel anymore. At the same time he’d have to find a way to cover up what he’d done so that he could stay on the island. He couldn’t leave Maman and Angelique.

  He’d lay on the charm like he usually did, and he’d be fine.

  He had a feeling the real trouble would be getting Angelique to lay aside her guilt about Jean. He’d have his work cut out for him in making her see she wasn’t bound to Jean anymore. He could do it if he tried hard enough. He’d just have to charm her too.

  Chapter

  19

  The morning sunshine couldn’t warm the chill that filled every corner of Angelique’s heart. “Are you ready?” She linked one arm through Miriam’s, and with the other she slung the grain sack containing Miriam’s clothes over her shoulder.

  “More than ready,” Miriam said, moving away from the officers’ quarters, where they’d lived for nearly two weeks.

  Early that morning, Colonel McDouall had given the islanders permission to return to their neglected homes and businesses. And now the wide open commons that had been filled with the makeshift tents and supplies of the villagers taking refuge inside the fort lay empty. The spots of flattened yellowing grass were the only reminders of the noisy, crowded mass that had gathered there.

  Word had come pouring back to the fort all day yesterday, first that the Americans had been forced to withdraw from their position, and then that they’d fallen back to the shore and to their ships waiting for them off the northern end of the island.

  Angelique had heard reports that the British hadn’t lost any lives but had sustained several injuries, and that the Americans had suffered many casualties and countless injuries. She could only pray that the jubilant British soldiers returning from battle were exaggerating. Yet if the bloodshed she’d witnessed was any indication of how the fighting had gone the rest of day, then she suspected the Americans had fared just as poorly as the British were bragging.

  Of course, Angelique wasn’t celebrating with Lavinia and the other women who shared British loyalties. Instead she’d been sick with worry all day thinking about Jean in the cave with a bullet in his leg. And she’d been equally worried about Pierre attempting to sneak Jean off the island in the dark of the night. What if someone spotted them?

  She’d heard reports that two of the injured Americans had been captured and thrown into the fort’s guardhouse, and that one of them hadn’t made it through the night. She didn’t want to believe that the two had been Pierre and Jean, that somehow they’d been discovered in the cave and thrown in prison.

  During her fishing trip that morning, she’d gone to Pirate’s Cove. But there hadn’t been a trace of their presence, not even a drop of blood. She’d searched along the shore and had gone farther out into the lake than she normally did, hoping to find Pierre. But she hadn’t caught sight of his canoe anywhere.

  “Time for us to be going,” she said to Miriam, trying to quell the anxiety that had grown with each passing hour of Pierre’s absence. Maybe he was waiting for them back at the farm.

  She hadn’t told Miriam about Jean or Pierre. They hadn’t had the opportunity to be alone for her to mention anything. Still, with the constant whispers of prayer coming from Miriam’s lips, Angelique suspected her dear friend knew something was wrong. And her solution to every problem was prayer and plenty of it.

  Miriam reached for Lavinia in the doorway of the building and squeezed the young woman’s hand. “Thank you for your gracious hospitality over the past days. You’ve been a sweet blessing to us.”

  “It’s been a pleasure to get to know you.” In a gown the color of lilacs, Lavinia was as fresh and pretty as always, as if she’d been entertaining them for afternoon tea instead of two weeks of tense, hot seclusion. “I’m certainly glad I could be of such help to so many during these difficult days.”

  Angelique couldn’t fault Lavinia’s kindness during the time when the fort had been crowded with islanders. She’d opened her quarters, shared her food, and distributed supplies among those camping on the commons.

  She’d even honored Angelique’s request to find lodging for Ebenezer, Betty, and their newborn in a deserted room in the storehouse. She was hoping it would soften Ebenezer’s anger toward her. He hadn’t forgotten about Pierre’s beating after the dance and still wore a yellowish bruise around his eye from it. From the sharp glances he gave her from time to time, she suspected he was just biding his time until he could punish her.

  Maybe she deserved his punishment. Maybe he’d seen the fickleness in her long before she had. He’d tried to warn her, but she hadn’t listened. In the end she’d followed too closely in her mother’s footsteps.

  She shivered and readjusted Miriam’s sack on her shoulder.

  Not anymore. She’d make a new path for herself. She didn’t know exactly what she was going to do, but she knew she couldn’t go behind Jean’s back any longer.

  “I would like to continue our lessons, my dear,” Lavinia said, smiling at Angelique. “I only have a few more weeks left before Father will send me back to civilized society. And I’m determined to have some success with you before I leave.”

  At least during the confinement over the past couple of weeks, Lavinia had stopped focusing so much on her appearance and had turned instead to her education. Angelique was surprised to find how much she enjoyed Lavinia’s lessons on reading and writing.

  A shout and two soldiers stiffening and cocking their rifles by the North Sally Port drew their attention.

  “Take me to the colonel” came a familiar voice, followed by the sight of Pierre’s swarthy frame swaggering between the two British sentinels.

  Pierre was safe.

  Angelique released a breath and sagged against Miriam.

  Miriam squeezed her arm. “God be praised,” she whispered so quietly that Angelique almost missed it.

  Pierre shrugged off the grip of one of the soldiers as they made their way down the steep hill toward the soldiers’ barracks. The soldiers lounging on the porch were polishing their guns. Several wore bandages from wounds sustained in the battle. They grew silent, and their expressions darkened at the sight of Pierre.

  Angelique had the overwhelming urge to run to him, throw herself against him, and tell him she’d been wrong yesterday, that the only place in the world she wanted to be was in his arms.

  But agony held her back. It was the same anguish that had been tearing through her since she’d realized she’d been unfaithful toward Jean, that she was becoming the kind of woman she’d been trying so hard not to be.

  The British sentinel regained his grip on Pierre’s arm, but Pierre yanked away from him. “We’ve got orders to bring you in,” the young man said as he reached for his sword.

  “I insist that you take me to Colonel McDouall first.” Pierre’s voice rose in anger.

  “I’ve got orders to take you straight to the guardhouse.” The soldier unsheathed the sword and pointed the blade at Pierre.

  With one swift kick Pierre sent the soldier and the sword tumbling away from him down the hill.

  An instant later the other soldier raised his musket, aiming the barrel at Pierre’s head. “Don’t move,” the soldier yelled, “or you’re a dead man.”

  Angelique started forward, but Miriam’s grip on he
r arm stopped her from recklessly charging toward Pierre in a foolish attempt to come to his aid.

  “What’s the problem?” came the strong voice of Lieutenant Steele from the doorway of the storehouse. More empty barrels and crates had been stacked outside the house, a sign the British were running dangerously low on supplies again.

  “I’ve got Durant,” the soldier replied, the gun against Pierre’s temple wobbling a little.

  The lieutenant leaned against the doorframe and seemed to casually observe the situation, although he’d pushed aside his coat and his fingers had strayed to the pistol holstered at his side.

  When Lavinia walked out of the officers’ quarters and shielded her eyes from the glaring sun to peer at Pierre, Angelique let herself breathe. If anyone could help Pierre, Lavinia could. “Let Mr. Durant go,” Lavinia commanded the soldier. “There is no reason to treat him like a common criminal.”

  “I beg your pardon, Miss McDouall,” the soldier said, “but I have orders to bring in Mr. Durant if he makes an appearance.”

  “Orders from whom?” Lavinia asked.

  The soldier glanced at Lieutenant Steele.

  The lieutenant shoved away from the doorframe and sauntered toward Lavinia.

  “I can explain everything if you take me to the colonel,” Pierre said, glancing sideways at the gun.

  The hard glare in Pierre’s eyes sent a shiver through Angelique, and she prayed he wouldn’t try to break free from the soldier. He’d only get himself shot in the process.

  Lieutenant Steele halted in front of Lavinia. “I sincerely apologize, Miss McDouall.” He then turned to Miriam. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Durant.”

  Miriam’s face paled, and her fingers dug into Angelique’s arm.

  “What is this all about?” Lavinia demanded, glancing from the lieutenant to Pierre and back.

  Pierre’s attention shifted to the women, as if noticing them for the first time. He looked first at Miriam, then at Angelique.

  Dismay chased away his bravado, sending a chill to Angelique’s heart. They both knew what was happening and there was no use pretending otherwise. The British had figured out Pierre was a spy.

  Lieutenant Steele spoke quietly, almost gently to Miriam. “I regret to inform you that we have reason to suspect your son is guilty of espionage.”

  Miriam didn’t say anything. The pain that lined her face did all the talking.

  “Well of course he’s guilty of espionage,” Lavinia said testily. “Everyone knows he’s been spying on the Americans and reporting back to Daddy.”

  “Maybe he was spying on the Americans.” Lieutenant Steele threw a glance at Pierre, one that revealed his disgust. “But who knows if what he was reporting to the colonel was the truth or only what the Americans wanted us to believe was the truth.”

  “Pierre has been a good friend to both Daddy and me,” Lavinia said. “He would never be dishonest with us. Would you, Pierre?”

  Pierre didn’t look at Lavina. Instead he focused on Lieutenant Steele. “If you let me speak with the colonel, I’m sure I can clear up any misunderstanding.”

  “Maybe you can explain why at the outset of the attack you told Colonel McDouall a contingency of Americans was planning a surprise attack farther south on the island in an attempt to take back the fort, when really the entire bulk of the United States Army was on the north end.”

  Pierre didn’t say anything.

  Lietuenant Steele only nodded. “Admit it. You thought to deceive the colonel into moving some of the army so that the forces were weaker and unable to repel the American attack.”

  Pierre shrugged. Angelique could see the battle raging across his face over whether to confess his part in spying or whether to talk his way out of trouble.

  She wanted to shout at him that he needed to deny any connection to the spying. He needed to make any excuse he could. She didn’t want to think about what they would do to him if he admitted to his deception.

  But hadn’t she talked with Pierre just yesterday morning, when they’d been out in their canoes about the struggle to do what was right even when it was hard? How could she demand anything less of him now?

  “We also have evidence that you assisted a wounded American soldier from the battlefield,” Lieutenant Steele continued.

  “In the confusion of the battle,” Pierre replied, “how could anyone possibly find evidence for such a thing?”

  “I found evidence.” The lieutenant moved closer to Pierre, and his expression spoke of victory. “I saw you pull the enemy solider from the field with my very own eyes.”

  Lavinia gasped. Her face drained of color and took the same pallor as Miriam’s.

  A crowd of regulars had been growing during the discussion. Men poked their heads out of windows in the barracks. Others had gathered outside of doorways. The glares they leveled at Pierre sent a tremor through Angelique.

  “We’re guessing that’s why you disappeared,” Lieutenant Steele said louder, apparently for the sake of those who were gathering near. “You were returning the wounded soldier to the Americans.”

  Pierre glared at Lieutenant Steele with a fierceness that sparked a flicker of hope in Angelique. He wouldn’t give in without fighting. He couldn’t just hand himself over to them.

  “You have no proof of any of this. And I think we all know why you’re leveling these accusations at me.” Pierre puffed out his chest and batted the barrel of the gun away from his head. “Because you’re jealous. You want me out of the way so that you can have Lavinia’s attention all to yourself.”

  The lieutenant’s lips curved into a tight grin. “Don’t flatter yourself, Durant. There’s never been any competition.”

  Lavinia stared at Pierre, her eyes and lips drooping. “Pierre, please deny all of this. Please.”

  “I want Lieutenant Steele to take me to the colonel as I’ve requested.” Pierre’s words were clipped. “I’ll be able to set everything straight.”

  “The only place Colonel McDouall wants to see you is in front of a firing squad.”

  Miriam swayed, and Angelique slipped an arm around her waist, even though she was trembling herself. She needed to get Miriam away from the fort and the accusations against Pierre. It was too much for her. She shouldn’t have to hear such claims leveled against her son—even if they were true.

  The lieutenant motioned to a couple of burly soldiers standing nearby, and they started up the incline toward Pierre.

  “You have no proof of anything,” Pierre said, eyeing the approaching soldiers.

  “The current evidence piled against you is quite enough for the colonel.” Lieutenant Steele’s fingers stroked his pistol. “And we can certainly find more if need be. I have a knack for extracting information from prisoners. I’m sure with a little persuasion the American soldier we captured yesterday will be more than happy to tell us what he knows about you.”

  “I don’t want anyone to get hurt on account of me,” Pierre said.

  The lieutenant nodded. “I thought you’d see it that way.”

  Pierre didn’t resist when the two soldiers reached him and each took one of his arms.

  A cry of protest rose inside Angelique. “Lavinia—Miss McDouall—you must do something! You have to help Pierre.”

  But Lavinia was already stepping backward through the entrance of the officers’ quarters, her trembling fingers reaching for the support of her servant who stood behind her.

  Lieutenant Steele turned to the servant girl. “Take Miss McDouall inside, away from all this unpleasantness.”

  Lavinia didn’t resist as the girl led her away, taking the last remnants of Angelique’s hope with her.

  The lieutenant spoke to the soldiers holding Pierre. “Search him for weapons and then tie him up.”

  As the soldiers frisked Pierre, the lieutenant disappeared into the officers’ quarters.

  Pierre didn’t resist the soldiers, though Angelique had no doubt he could have overpowered them if he’d wanted to. His shoulde
rs had gradually slumped, and his eyes reflected a resignation to whatever was to come.

  For a long moment he refused to glance to where she stood. But then once the soldiers had bound his hands in front of him, he lifted his head and looked at her. “Take Maman home.”

  Angelique nodded, her throat tight.

  He studied every inch of her face as if he were memorizing it. “Looks as though you won’t have to worry about breaking your commitment to Jean after all.”

  On the one hand, his words were reassurance that somehow he’d been able to deliver Jean back to the American ships. But on the other, his statement slipped around her neck like a hangman’s noose.

  He’d given up. He knew he was a dead man.

  She started to shake her head. There had to be some way to save him.

  “Sound the call to assemble,” Lieutenant Steele said to one of the soldiers as he stepped out of the stone building and let the door close with a loud bang behind him.

  Pierre glanced at the lieutenant and then spoke to Angelique in an unnaturally soft voice, “You need to take Maman home. Now.”

  Angelique followed his gaze, but then jerked back. There, dangling from the lieutenant’s hand, was the cat-o’-nine-tails. Its knotted cords hung stiffly, brown and dry from the blood of the last soldier who’d been flogged.

  The lieutenant started toward Pierre.

  “Go on,” Pierre said more urgently to Angelique. “Take Maman out of here.”

  With halting steps, Angelique pulled Miriam forward, a cry of protest burning in her chest. She didn’t want to leave him.

  “I love you, my dear son,” Miriam cried out over her shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks. “No matter what, I’ll never stop loving you.”

  Angelique choked back a swell of anguish. Miriam knew as well as she did that she was losing Pierre. After finally having him back in their lives, he was being torn from them forever.

 

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