The Scarlet Coat

by Angela Couch

  “Hardly noticeable.” Andrew dragged a chair out and lowered into it as memories danced across his mind.

  Women elegantly attired, their hair the result of hours of preparation, fine oddments dangling from earlobes. They moved with grace and poise and spoke with breeding and refinement. The fair and accomplished ladies of England.

  And yet, as he watched Rachel’s every move, it became clear that he had never beheld anyone as beautiful. “You look lovely.”

  Rachel met his eyes for a brief moment before she hurried to the fireplace. Her cheeks wore more color than a minute earlier. “I’ll put this stew over the flame to heat for your dinner and supper. You can have it with those biscuits left over from breakfast.”

  “That will be fine, thank you.” He shifted on the hard chair. “I hope you have a delightful time.”

  “I’m sure we will.” Rachel looked back to him, her expression soft. “I wish you could come.” As soon as the words left her mouth, a hand slipped to her collar. A strained smile formed on her lips, and the tone of her voice sharpened. “I’m sure you would have enjoyed how we Continentals throw a ball.”

  “I do not doubt it.” Andrew forced a lighthearted smile, though it was far from what he felt. “You colonists never cease to amaze me.”

  Rachel’s gaze stayed. She opened her mouth as though to speak.

  He waited.

  The door opened and Joseph called for her, announcing it was time to leave.

  She hurried to where her shawl hung, and then back to the table for the Dutch oven containing the cake she’d baked for the event. “Have a good day,” she said as she trailed after her brother.

  The door again closed, leaving Andrew alone. Pushing to his feet, he hobbled to the fireplace to pull the pan of thick stew from the heat. He slid it onto the table and stared at it. Without any feeling left in his stomach, Andrew maneuvered away, pacing the boundaries of his prison until his legs threatened to give out. He seated himself on his cot—the one that had held him captive for so long.

  Releasing a cry, he bashed his crutch against the wall with all his might. The crutch remained strong, and his frustration increased. He struck it again, over and over, each time with less strength until finally it dropped to the floor, unmarred.

  ~*~

  The evening air had a chill to it, testifying that summer was spent. In the movement and excitement of the event, no one seemed to mind except the older folks who sat against the wall of Fuhrmanns’ newly constructed barn, looking on.

  As the lively music came to an end, Rachel thanked her partner, Mr. Fuhrmann, a widower with five half-grown children, and moved to where Joseph stood in discussion with Matthias Adler about the harvest they were bringing in. She was grateful their community was small, not allowing for language and culture to separate them. They needed each other, depended on each other.

  “What are you doing standing here when I know of several young women hoping you’ll dance with them?” she reprimanded Joseph, not bothering to suppress the smile on her face. She had made up her mind to enjoy the party. No thoughts about the war with the British, or British people at all, not a single one. She’d felt enough pain this summer. Rachel paused for a moment to catch both her breath and composure.

  “Ja, Joseph, listen to your sister.” The older man chuckled. “Especially the oldest Reid girl. I do believe she has been vatching you all evening.”

  Joseph scowled. “It’s not like that. She’s just a kid.”

  “She’s only a little younger than I,” Rachel protested.

  “My point exactly.” He bumped her arm with his elbow. “I mean, she’s still running around with her braids down and—”

  “Maybe you haven’t had a good look at her lately.”

  Even Matthias nodded toward the person in question. He gave Joseph a pat on the back and wandered to where his wife sat.

  Crossing his arms, Joseph scanned the area cleared for dancing.

  Fannie stood with her mother and younger sisters. Her hair formed elegant black ringlets that fell gently about her shoulders. A creamy yellow dress accented her womanly form.

  As though sensing his gaze, Fannie glanced at him. Her dark lashes lowered as a blush rose to her cheeks.

  Rachel was about to give her brother a push in the right direction when a hand warmed her arm. She turned. Daniel.

  “Would you dance the next with me?”

  “All right.”

  He led her to where other couples gathered.

  The man with the violin pulled the bow across the strings, announcing that the music was to start. As they formed a line, she bit back a smile.

  Joseph had invited Fannie and moved to join them.

  The tune played merrily and the couples were soon breathless.

  Daniel took Rachel’s arm at the end and led her from the other dancers. “Would you like to sit out for the next one?”

  “I think I am due for a rest,” she panted.

  “Perhaps you’d accompany me on a short walk to the stream.” His head ducked as he cleared his throat. “It’s lovely with the moon so full.”

  Rachel hesitated before supplying him with another nod. His sudden uncertainty did nothing for her own, but she placed her hand on his arm so he could lead the way. He covered her fingers. Her heart fluttered, but not in a good way. This was all Joseph’s fault. And Rodney Cowden’s. If they hadn’t brought up the possibility of Daniel’s affection, she could have gone on pretending there was nothing more than friendship between them.

  Daniel led her down the path to the babbling stream. The moon’s reflection danced on the water to the strains of violin that echoed from the barn.

  “It is beautiful.” Some of the tension ebbed as she took in the view.

  “No more than you.”

  So much for letting the gurgling water steal her anxiety. She liked his compliments, but wanted him to stop at the same time.

  “You’re beautiful.” He turned to face her and one hand came up to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Right now, the moonlight makes you appear as though gold streams from your head.” Daniel held her gaze. Then he turned and moved to the bank of the stream, his fingers tapping against the side of his leg. He looked back to her. Even his smile showed his unease.

  Rachel’s gaze drifted over the illuminated scenery as she searched to lighten the air between them. “It has been a fine evening. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”

  “That they do.”

  “We haven’t had much opportunity for gatherings this summer.”

  He grunted. “It’s probably been for the best. What with...it’s easier to keep secrets this way.”

  She set her hand over the taut muscles of Daniel’s forearm, ridged under the fabric. “Let’s not talk about him—or that—right now.”

  “Of course not. This is hardly the place. And even if it were...” He crossed the back of his hand over his brow. “Rachel, I’ve been meaning to speak with you of something for a while now, but with...it has never been the right time.”

  She kept her gaze lowered.

  “With your Pa gone, I felt it proper to speak with Joseph first. I finally did about a week ago.” He paused to clear his throat. “I wish to call on you, Rachel—to court you, proper like.”

  Words caught in her throat as she looked at him.

  Concern touched his brow, forming a new dimension of shadows. “What are your thoughts?”

  Rachel ran the tip of her tongue discreetly over her lips. Almost twenty years of age, skirting around an attachment was gone if she didn’t want to end up an old maid. She’d be foolish to turn away his affection. He was a good man, and she admired the determined strength in his jaw and the depth of his eyes. It’d be easy enough to love this man, wouldn’t it? Still she wavered. She brushed her fingers over the scarlet scrap tucked in her collar.

  Andrew was not a consideration here. He was leaving. He had no place in her world.

  She cleared the lump from her throat.
“That would be fine, Daniel.”

  “Truly?”

  Rachel smiled, trying her best to make it real. “Yes, but I think we’d best hurry back to the clearing before tongues begin to wag.”

  He stared at her with marked relief a moment longer before nodding and offering his arm. “Yes, ma’am.”

  ~*~

  Andrew looked up from the book, his brain numb from reading hour after hour. But what else was there to distract his mind from thoughts of Rachel? With a sigh, he set aside the Bible. His eyes stung from the exertion of focusing on the small print in the dim light supplied by the lamp. It needed its wick trimmed for a better glow.

  He covered a yawn as he gazed at the blackened window. It had been dark for a couple hours and still Rachel and Joseph hadn’t returned. The evening stretched on forever as he fought the boredom, loneliness, and other feelings he wished to ignore. “I must not forget who I am.”

  Who am I? Unfortunately most of the answer remained obscure. Every day brought more images, but nothing concrete. “Andrew Wyndham. Captain Andrew Wyndham.” Whoever that was. Whatever life he’d left behind in England, or duties that may have been his.

  A strange sensation passed through him like lightning. Duty. Clouded faces from veiled memories pressed upon his mind, begging to be understood and revived. After several minutes they faded into the dark abyss of his past. Andrew maneuvered back to the cot and dropped to his left side, letting the frustration bleed away as weariness took him. As he relaxed, the images again rose from the mists of his mind.

  “What of your duty to your family? You are the eldest. Our future rests in your hands. Will you lead us to ruin?” The voice he knew and the face he had often seen. His mother, her auburn hair piled high on her head, and her face staunch.

  “What of my duty to God?” he had wondered.

  But she hadn’t heard him. She never did.

  “The church is a worthy profession, but it is not for you. I will not see my eldest son give himself to some country parish when his family is in need. You father has not placed you in the position to waste yourself. His debts have left us with almost nothing. So it is decided. Politics is the only profession that can rightfully restore us.”

  “Mother, we have spoken of this before. You know I do not wish to join Parliament. Even the thought I find detestable.”

  A smile slid across her face. “Then perhaps you should find more occasion to dance, Andrew.”

  “Dance?”

  “Yes. I have noted Miss Grenville is very fond of dancing. The invitation Baron Glastonbury extended you and your brother shall give you ample opportunity to secure her affections. A fortnight in Derbyshire is just what is required.”

  “Miss Grenville and her ten-thousand-a-year, is that what this is about?”

  Footsteps across the plank floor pulled Andrew awake. His head seemed swollen, yet the memory remained, and it was indeed that—a memory.

  “Sorry if I awakened you.” The glow of the tiny flame touched Rachel’s face as she took the lamp in her hands. “How was your day?”

  “Fine.” He rolled onto his back, his gaze never leaving her. Why did she have to look so hauntingly beautiful? “And yours?”

  “It was good.” She smiled, but only with her mouth. She turned with the lamp toward the bedroom where Joseph had already retreated.

  Andrew clamped his eyes shut. Miss Grenville was as much a mystery as any of his past, but there was no doubt in his mind that he had never felt anything this strong for her.

  21

  Rachel stole a glance across the table at Andrew. He’d been quiet this morning and was hardly putting a dent in his noonday meal. Not that she fared much better at clearing her plate—nor had she given him much opportunity for conversation. It was easier to simply avoid him. The coarse swatch of his uniform was not proving as effective as she’d hoped. She stood and moved to where the empty pails waited near the door. “I need to get some fresh water for the dishes.”

  “Don’t be long,” Joseph called after her.

  It was a Sunday afternoon. Everything that absolutely had to be taken care of had been finished before they’d sat down to eat. They wouldn’t be harvesting today, so why would she need to hurry? Not bothering to ask, Rachel stepped into the sunshine. Unfortunately it did little to penetrate the shadow that embraced her as she walked to the well.

  After drawing water, she remained perched on the wooden base, staring into the deep hole. Its bottom glistened. With two fingers she slipped the red scrap of cloth from her collar and sighed. She could never regret bringing Andrew from the battle field that night, or that he recovered...but why did he have to be so good, so genuine? Why did his eyes have to captivate her, or his voice penetrate her? Why did she have to fall in love?

  She loved him.

  The realization swelled within her eyes. How was she to give her life to Daniel, or any other man, when the British captain already possessed her heart? What an impossible situation. She had to fight it—to not feel anything.

  “Rachel?” Joseph hollered from the cabin.

  She fortified herself with a deep breath and then slipped the snippet of red out of sight. Hefting the pails of water, Rachel carried them inside. She stopped short.

  Joseph sat with the Bible open on the table.

  Andrew pushed himself to his feet, a gesture he was making a habit of.

  Her attempts to dissuade him seemed to fall on deaf ears, so she didn’t bother saying anything. Still, it would be better for his thigh if he put etiquette aside until he got back to England.

  Her brother glanced up. “I’ve been doing some thinking. It’s well past time we had a Sabbath meeting. The way we used to.”

  Rachel released the pails near the fireplace, the contents sloshing over the brim. It was too soon. “Let’s wait until the snow falls. I have so much that needs doing. I mean...what with...”

  Joseph held her gaze, a look of fascination and disbelief forming a furrow on his brow. Could he so easily see through her?

  “Fine.” She slumped in a chair across from him.

  With a “good,” Joseph motioned toward their British captain. “I already invited Andrew to join us.”

  Rachel glanced at his pleasant smile and attempted a civil one.

  The devotional began with a short prayer, offered by Joseph, and then he turned to the Bible. “I’m afraid I don’t know quite where to begin,” he confessed to Andrew. “Before our Ma died, we read daily. Pa was a little busier, but would see to it that every Sabbath we set time apart for discussion and study. I don’t even remember where we left off.”

  “There should be a marker.” Rachel fiddled with an inch-long tear in her apron. She would need to fix it before it ripped any more. “Mama’s lace.”

  The pages rustled as they were turned. “All right—Hebrews. I’m guessing we finished chapter ten, so on to eleven. ‘Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’”

  Rachel cringed as Joseph continued. Of all the places to start reading, it had to be the chapter on faith, the one thing she didn’t want to consider right now—besides the man sitting in silence across the table.

  “‘Through faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God...’”

  Andrew’s head came up. “That’s interesting.”

  Joseph stopped. “What?”

  “‘Worlds were framed by the word of God.’ Creation.” Andrew pointed to the Bible. “But this could be understood two ways. In Genesis, we read, ‘And God said,’ and creation followed. All He did was speak the word. But then, in the beginning of the Gospel according to John, we read that ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.’ It speaks of Christ. Of course we know from the next couple of verses in John, that ‘without Him was not anything made’.” Andrew paused and lowered his hand. “It is simply thought provoking, is all. I had not linked these verses before.” Andrew relaxed back into his chair. “I ap
ologize for the interruption. Please continue.”

  “You certainly know your Bible.” Joseph scratched his beard with his knuckles. “As I mentioned, it was not as though we weren’t raised without a decent amount of study, yet I feel quite ignorant at the moment. I must admit I didn’t follow everything you said.”

  Andrew shrugged off the compliment. “The Bible has been my life for a long while.” His gaze focused on the fireplace, but he didn’t seem to see it. “My desire had been to take my occupation in the church. It was my intention to become a clergyman. I had even been offered a parish not far from my family’s country estate.” His eyes narrowed as though he were attempting to peer through the solid stones. “Though I do not think my family was in residence at the time.”

  Rachel couldn’t remove her gaze from him, or the light dancing in his large pupils. “It certainly explains a lot.” With her elbows on the table, she leaned forward. “But you never mentioned this before.”

  “I did not remember until last night. Unfortunately there was opposition. I had a duty to my family, but I am not sure...” He stopped, his eyes again distant.

  “Was it your duty to your family that took you into the army?” Joseph asked.

  The creases deepened at the corners of Andrew’s eyes. “I cannot imagine how. From what I recall, my main responsibility as the eldest son—perhaps just the eldest, as I do not recall having a sister—was to restore my family’s fortune and secure our place in society.”

  “Society,” Rachel echoed. The concept seemed so out of place in this wilderness.

  “Do you remember anything more?” Joseph asked.

  Andrew looked to Rachel and then dropped his gaze to the table. “Shadows and fragments of this and that. There is still so much I need to piece together.”

  “Well, it seems that you’re making progress.” Rachel’s chair ground against the floor as she stood.

  Joseph’s chuckle drew her attention. “Sorry, I was remembering how Mrs. Adler was talking last evening about how much she missed attending church like they did back east, and how much she hoped that someday we’d have our own preacher.” He grinned. “If only they knew we had one right under our very own roof.”