The Scarlet Coat

by Angela Couch

  “Very funny, Joseph. Just don’t forget what they would do if they found out we had him right under our very own roof.”

  “I wasn’t serious. It’s simply an amusing thought.”

  “Yes. And to think you first wanted him dead.” Her face burned as she glanced to Andrew.

  His brow lowered, shadowing his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, but Joseph seems to forget himself. I mean nothing against you.” And hurting him had not been her intension.

  Joseph snapped the Bible closed. “What has gotten you so worked up all of the sudden?”

  “Nothing at all. But I still have plenty I need to get done today before Daniel comes.” She smoothed her skirts. “I told you he aims to call tonight.”

  “That’s fine, as long as you don’t mind the rector and I having a bit more of a discussion.” He looked to Andrew. “There have always been a few things in the Bible that stump me. Perhaps you’ll be able to shed some light on them.”

  The creases in Andrew’s cheeks deepened as he moved his focus to the book. “I shall do my best. I am still learning myself.”

  Joseph laughed. “This coming from the man who quotes the Bible like poetry and speaks Greek.”

  Rachel’s head came up. “You speak Greek?”

  “Not fluently. I prefer Latin...and French. German I struggle with.” He tapped a finger on the edge of the table. “The King’s English is, by far, that with which I am most comfortable.”

  ~*~

  Daniel took Rachel’s arm as he opened the door.

  Together they vanished into the evening shadows.

  Andrew pulled up to his good foot and paced the floor in a painfully ungraceful manner. There was nothing he could do for that, as pure jealousy stiffened his body.

  “Is something wrong?” Joseph questioned from his seat. “You seem restless.”

  Andrew stumbled to a halt, but did not turn to face him. “Is it so unnatural? I have been caged within these four walls for a month. I have counted all five hundred and twenty-three knots in the rafters above my bed so many times, I am capable of doing so in my sleep.”

  Joseph slid his chair back. “You know it’s not safe for you to be seen.”

  “What if I were to wait until dusk. I would stay behind the cabin and not be gone long.” Andrew sighed. “If you say I am a prisoner, I shall consign myself to this fate and be grateful for this kind prison—but if there affords some freedom, I wish to feel it. I want to breathe.”

  “You know you’re not our prisoner.” Joseph walked into the bedroom, returning a minute later with a knee length, dark brown coat and a pair of worn boots. “Take these.”

  Boots. That was freedom. “I no longer have to wander with nothing but long socks?”

  Joseph placed the articles near the table and waited for Andrew to join him. “Being confined to the cabin isn’t the only reason, is it? I’m not as blind as all that—contrary to the belief of certain young ladies.” He sat down and motioned for Andrew to do the same. “Rachel is a handsome woman, but not in any extraordinary way. She might catch the attention of a man like Daniel, for example, because she’s hardworking and will be an asset to any man trying to scratch out a life here. But that isn’t your life. You’re remembering that now.”

  Andrew dropped the boots to the floor and pulled the left one on. A bit of a squeeze, but hopefully the leather would stretch given time.

  “You can’t forget that she’s American in the very essence of the word. She can’t change that any more than you can change who you are, whether or not you truly know. Rachel was right—we mustn’t forget how this arrangement began. Sooner or later you’ll have to leave.” His fingers raked through his hair. “Though, I still don’t know what we’ll do when the time comes.”

  Andrew pressed a half smile and nodded toward the rifle hanging over the door. “There is always your favorite option.”

  With a chuckle, Joseph shook his head. “It was never really an option. I couldn’t do it that first night. Even after hours of firing my musket at every Tory and Redcoat in sight, I couldn’t kill a dead man.”

  “I am no longer a dead man.” Andrew yanked the second boot onto his other foot.

  “But you also no longer wear that coat.” Joseph leaned back in his chair. “Besides, I’m sure it’s not a good thing to kill a clergyman.”

  “War is a peculiar thing, is it not? Men against men. Some protecting their land and families, others led by their duty to king and country. Yet all are men. In the end they all kill, they all bleed, and they all die—in one form or another.” He rested his elbows on the table, pushing his palms into his eyes. A moaned rumbled. “I almost remember. Marching for days in the hot sun, wishing we had been wise enough to stay home. Straight lines of red-clad soldiers. I was merely one of hundreds, regardless of the fact I was an officer. It did not set me apart from my men. And then the battle...the stench of smoke as barns and homes burnt to the ground. Lifetimes of work destroyed in minutes. But what is that? Houses and barns can be rebuilt, but...” his voice cracked, “but the life of a man, created in the image of God himself...no wonder the Lord decreed ‘thou shalt not kill.’”

  The air fell silent as shadows grew across the room and the light from the windows faded. A lamp was lit, but did little for vision or mood as memories continued to haunt. And thoughts of Rachel. “I no longer wish to remain here,” Andrew murmured.

  “What do you plan to do? Where would you go?”

  “Yet another thing I cannot say. I simply know I cannot remain here. Not in this house.”

  Joseph lit another lamp. “If it’s just the cabin, there is a room in the loft you could stay in while you finish recovering. I reckon you’ll need at least a few more weeks. Hopefully we’ll figure out what to do by then.”

  “Would it not be most logical for you to take me to your army?” Andrew set the crutch under his arm and rose. “Then I would no longer be a liability.”

  “I’d have to lie if I said that thought hasn’t continued to visit me the past couple weeks.” He stood as well. “However, today I decided I could use your help. Before everything happened—the battle, our Pa’s death—Rachel was a very strong believer. Not a day went by that she didn’t have the Bible in hand, poring over it and preaching to me to better my ways. She used to smile a lot more, too. She used to trust in God. I thought holding our Sabbath meetings might be good, but how can I help her renew her faith, when mine’s never been that strong to begin with?”

  Andrew leaned heavily into the crutch. If only he could be instrumental in returning Rachel to her faith. And the one to return a smile to her face. “I doubt I would be of much assistance, but I shall do what I can.” Andrew grabbed the coat and slipped it on. It fit large, but within reason. “I suppose it is dark enough for me to get some fresh air and do some thinking?”

  Joseph followed him to the door and took a weathered tricorn hat from one of the pegs. “One more thing to keep in mind. Daniel Reid is a good man and has been a true friend to this family. He’ll make a fine husband for Rachel.” He handed Andrew the hat.

  “I know.” The truth of it sat heavy as Andrew covered his head. “I respect your sister and wish her the best.” With a quick nod to Joseph, he maneuvered out into the crisp evening air and away from the cabin. Liberty. Independence. Was this why the colonists were pulling away from Britain?

  Rachel’s voice cut through his revelry. It drifted to him on the breeze, followed by Daniel’s.

  With effort, Andrew pushed aside the growing ache in his center. Any feelings he had for Rachel Garnet were wrong and impossible. He needed to put them aside once and for all.

  22

  “Tomorrow will be a busy day.” Daniel’s fingers warmed hers, cradling them on his arm as he led her back to the cabin. “I should probably start for home.”

  Rachel withdrew her hand as they stopped at the door. “This time of year, morning always has a way of coming too soon.”

  His gaze dropped to l
inger on her lips.

  Rachel slid a step back. “Goodnight, Daniel. And thank you for the walk.”

  He nodded, backing away, as well. “Goodnight.” With a tip of his hat, he moved to where he’d tied his horse. As he faded into the darkness, she turned and reached for the latch.

  “Did you have a pleasant evening, Miss Garnet?” At the soft spoken words, she jerked around.

  Andrew emerged from the shadows. He removed his hat with a curt bow of his head. “I am sorry to have startled you.”

  “No, you didn’t startle me. I’m just surprised to see you out here.” Apprehension tickled her spine. Had he heard Daniel’s rant...again? “How long have you been there?”

  “Not long. I was in the barn looking over some things. Joseph has agreed the time has come for me to give you back the privacy of your own home. You have a decent room in your loft.”

  “Joseph planned it with my father when they built the barn. He wanted a place of his own. But it’s been vacant this past month. It’s too much of a mess to stay in now.”

  “I admit it could use some tidying—definitely some dusting—but I no longer wish to impose upon you.”

  His presence was hardly an imposition anymore, though perhaps that was the problem. With him out of the house, she would see him less. It would be easier not to think about him as constantly, and life could return to normal. However, this logic did nothing for the hollowness building in her chest. “What about the stairs? How will you manage them with your bad leg?”

  “I must admit to being quite concerned when I first saw them. However, I discovered the fine art needed. As long as there is nothing I have to carry, I should manage.”

  Rachel wrapped one of the sharply angled corners of her shawl around her forefinger. “You’ve decided, then?”

  His nod was almost unseen in the night. So stiff. So proper. He wore Pa’s coat and old hat, but it was not difficult to picture him dressed in tailored finery, addressing his lordly associates, or genteel ladies.

  “I thank you for how long you have offered your home and tended my wounds. I pray the Lord bless you for your saintly kindness.”

  Rachel turned back to the door, her hand reaching for the latch. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier this afternoon.”

  “I am not.” He shuffled a step forward. “You were right. Joseph and you should not forget who I am. It would prove dangerous to do otherwise.”

  Rachel’s grip loosened as she pivoted back to him. He was within arm’s reach, and hers ached for him. Would it be so wrong, so impossible? “Andrew, I...”

  He took another step, his face now only inches away, looking down at her.

  Her gaze fell to his mouth as his lips parted. Soft breath caressed her face.

  “Rachel...” His eyes closed and his jaw stiffened. “It is getting late. Your brother will be concerned.”

  “Yes.” She rotated away from him and opened the door.

  ~*~

  Andrew bowed as he took the young woman’s hand. Long, dark lashes lowered over large eyes, a demure smile forming on rosy lips. She made a short curtsy as the music ended. “Thank you, Mr. Wyndham.”

  “The pleasure was mine.” Andrew released her hand, but stepped nearer. “Allow me to return you to your friends.”

  She set her delicate fingers on his proffered arm. “I am glad you made it back to town in time for tonight. I have seen your brother on several occasions, but nothing of you since Derbyshire. I was beginning to wonder if you found our company unpleasant.”

  He led her around a group gathered in conversation. One of the men wore regimentals—a more and more common sight at such assemblies as tensions increased with the American colonies. One last fling in society before being shipped to another continent. “I assure you, that is far from the truth,” he said, putting the war from his mind. It had little bearing on his life or plans. This woman and the next few minutes held all sway. “I had business to complete at Oxford.”

  “Are you finished your studies there?”

  “I am.”

  “And what is next for you, Mr. Wyndham?”

  Instead of directing her back to where her party waited, he took a turn toward the veranda. “I have been offered a parish at Newbury.”

  “You mean to take your occupation in the church, then?” A crease appeared on her otherwise smooth forehead.

  “I do.”

  “But surely there are much grander offices for a man such as yourself?”

  They stepped into the warm night air, and Andrew turned to face her. “My mother would agree with you, but the church is where my heart is.” He forced a smile. “Newbury is an enviable parish, and, located between London and Bath, it is by no means isolated from society. My family’s country estate is near there.”

  Her face remained unreadable for a minute, and then she tipped her head coyly to one side. A dark ringlet danced beside her ear. “Are you seeking my approval for your chosen profession, Mr. Wyndham?”

  He held her gaze, painfully aware of the moisture gathering on the back of his neck. Maybe the air was too warm. “I am.”

  “And what purpose would my good opinion prove to you?”

  Andrew glanced back at the assembly.

  A couple lingered near the door, but not close enough to overhear.

  “I would seek your hand in marriage, Miss Grenville.”

  Andrew’s eyes opened to the darkness. His heart was the only sound, each pound breaking the silence. He pressed his thumbs into his temples, massaging them. It was more than just a dream. The images had been too clear—too precise. And now, instead of fading as dreams did, the scene gained depth and clarity.

  Staring into the night, Andrew replayed the memory, more faces merging from the haze. His mother had been there. She’d nodded him toward the veranda. He was returning with Miss Grenville when a group of young gentlemen in regimentals had moved past. His brother, Stephen, had been one of them.

  “What is this?”

  Stephen had jerked away, looking smug as usual. “I was bored.”

  “You were bored?” Andrew wanted to shake his smirk away. “What about Mother? You know what this will do to her?” She adored her youngest son.

  “Not here.”

  “Then we shall go someplace else.”

  “Please!” Stephen groaned. “Cannot your lectures wait until tomorrow? Come, brother, stop making a scene in front of this lovely creature.” He’d turned all his charm toward the lady on Andrew’s arm. “Miss Grenville.” He bowed. “Perhaps I should rescue you from this boorish brother of mine. Would you dance this next one with me?”

  They made their way to the middle of the floor as the other officers laughed and moved on. There had to be a way to change it—a way to get him out of the army.

  Andrew had found his mother’s face among the crowd. Never had he seen such emotion in her face. Do you have any realization of what you have done, little brother?

  The cabin was almost pitch-black save a soft glow of moonlight stealing through the small windows. Andrew buried his face in his elbow. He had withdrawn from the ministry and his dreams. Two days before his regiment left England, he’d received news that the parish he had hoped for was given to a Mr. Arthur Wilhurst, an acquaintance from his time spent at Oxford.

  His mother never said anything to him about his sacrifice, only of her gratitude.

  But where was his brother now?

  “The fool.” Andrew pushed himself into a sitting position, reaching for the letter he’d tucked away. The words were undistinguishable in the darkness, but his mind reviewed them nonetheless.

  The request for Lieutenant Stephen Wyndham’s transfer to the eighth regiment has been approved.

  His regiment. Andrew had wanted him close and had acquired the commissions needed. His family’s position. His education. Money. It made it easier to keep his promise. He set the letter aside and grasped his crutch. Balanced on his good leg, he hesitated. Joseph’s mild snore and a cricket were th
e only sounds. He maneuvered toward the small bedroom and paused at the doorway, steadying his weight against the frame.

  In the smaller room, there was even less light, making it barely possible to discern the beds or the sleeping forms upon them.

  An increasingly familiar ache rose within. His past was returning, stripping away any fantasy or hope of remaining in this valley...with Rachel.

  As soon as he was able, he would leave and find his brother. Then they would return together to England where Andrew would fulfill his duty to his fiancée.

  23

  Andrew sat on a handcrafted chair near a makeshift table constructed from a tall length of stump with a thinner slab of wood laid on top. He propped his crutch against the wall of the small room.

  Rachel finished sweeping the dust and a trail of straw from the floor.

  “Thank you, Miss Garnet.”

  Rachel set aside the broom to spread two blankets across the bed. “All I ask is that you remember to give your leg time to heal.” She smoothed the last patchwork quilt out before glancing over her shoulder. “I still have misgivings about you being out here all by yourself. I saw how you climbed those stairs, and it scared me to death. If you ever lost your balance...” Her eyes closed as she shook her head.

  “I appreciate your concern.” If that was truly concern. Understanding what she felt or thought about him was becoming increasingly difficult. Not that it mattered. “I shall avoid plummeting to my death.”

  “Is that statement supposed to improve my confidence in this arrangement?”

  Who could be sure what would satisfy her? No. That wasn’t fair. Of course she wanted him to finish healing...so she would finally be rid of him. Her courtship with Mr. Reid would proceed much smoother with him gone. They would be married before Christmas.

  Andrew swallowed back the bitterness in his mouth and the jealousy that seemed to taint his every thought. He reached out for the Bible Rachel had placed on the table. Joseph’s concern for her was understandable and he had promised to assist. “Wouldn’t you rather keep this in the house where you can read it?”