Honor Redeemed

by Christine Johnson

  “Ye done plenty already. Yer the reason I’m in this way.”

  Again he apologized. “I want to help. Tell me what to do.”

  The pout vanished in a sly smile. “Sit down, love.” She patted the chaise. “And pour some of that milk into me teacup.”

  He looked around. His superiors weren’t near, so he poured the milk and sat down beside her.

  “Ye best put the rest inside out o’ the sun,” she said, “and then come back ta me.”

  He headed into the house with the jug, but something about her demure smile unsettled him. Aileen was anything but demure. Based on her past performances, that smile hid her true feelings. He looked back through the window and saw her pour something from a small flask into the milk. His heart sank. He could demand to know what it was, but she would claim someone or other told her that rum or laudanum or whatever it was eased the aches of childbearing.

  So he turned away and pretended he’d never seen it.

  Prosperity sent Elizabeth back to her husband when they reached the fort.

  “Are you certain?” Elizabeth hesitated, glancing at the busy work site and guarded entrance. “I can stay with you until your beau arrives.”

  Prosperity shook her head. She did not want any spectators for this reunion.

  “I can at least wait until you’re certain he is here.”

  “Where else would he be at this hour?” The clanging of machinery and growl of engines filled the air. Laborers sang in time to the rhythmic pounding. Work was under way, and David, ever mindful of duty, would be supervising the men.

  “Very well then.” Elizabeth bade her farewell and walked back the way they’d come.

  Prosperity waited until Elizabeth had disappeared from sight before gathering her nerve and approaching the guard.

  He refused to let her enter. “No civilians.”

  “Lieutenant Latham will want to see me.” The exertion of walking such a distance in blistering heat must be getting to her head, for she nearly blurted out that she was his fiancée. Goodness! The guard did not need to know her personal attachment to David.

  “He did not give me your name.”

  Prosperity fought frustration. “He didn’t know I was coming.”

  “I’m sorry, miss, but you can’t enter the fortifications without permission.”

  “Perhaps you could send someone to fetch him.”

  That suggestion met the same flat resistance.

  Without the trees to shade her from the sun, Prosperity wilted. The black gown sizzled against her skin like a skillet over a hot fire. Perspiration ran from the equally scorching bonnet down her forehead and off her nose. “Please send a message to him. I can’t bear this sun much longer.”

  At last a hint of compassion broke through the stern reserve. “I can’t send for him, miss. Lieutenant Latham isn’t here.”

  “He isn’t?” The fear that he’d perished bubbled up again. “But where else would he be?”

  “He went home to his wife.”

  3

  Prosperity dropped her bag with a thud. She had never fainted in her life, but her head spun at the guard’s words. Wife? David did not have a wife. He could not have a wife. He had pledged to marry her.

  The guard must be mistaken. Perhaps he had misheard David’s name. She did have a soft voice, and the machinery thundered nearby. She must speak more forcefully.

  “I meant Lt. David Latham.”

  “Yes, miss. That’s the one.”

  The quick response left no doubt. David had a wife. The O’Malleys had heard correctly. David was the officer who had married. How could it be? He would have broken the engagement by letter and waited an appropriate period of time for her response. He did not rush into anything.

  The missing letters.

  The landscape began to swirl as if she were caught in a vortex. What if David had written to her? What if he had broken off their engagement but the letter got lost?

  She staggered backward.

  “Are you all right, miss?” The guard reached out to steady her.

  She pulled away. She couldn’t talk to a stranger about this. She couldn’t talk to anyone. The air pressed in on her, and the world was spinning out of control.

  “You look pale, miss. Why don’t you sit a bit? There’s a bench in the guardhouse. I could set it here in the shade.”

  “You are too kind. I will be fine. It’s just the heat.” She mustered a smile to prove it, but her chin quivered.

  He did not appear convinced. “Might I call a carriage for you?”

  “No, thank you.” She took a deep breath and picked up her bag. “See? I feel better already. Where might I call on them? Lieutenant and Mrs. Latham, that is?”

  “Why, at the garrison.”

  “Naturally.” Why hadn’t she remembered that? David had written to her of the long walk between his quarters and the work site. “Thank you. I will call on him—them—there.”

  Her words faded behind the buzzing in her ears. Her vision blurred, and the ground heaved as if she were still aboard ship.

  Don’t collapse in public.

  Whatever happened, she must not lose control of her faculties here, with only the soldiers near. She plodded away from the guardhouse, each step heavier than the last.

  Only once before had she come near to fainting. She had been walking past the fish market when she overheard a fisherman say he saw her father’s vessel go down in heavy seas. They found no survivors. She had clung to a hitching post and drew in the icy breeze until a friend rushed from the market to assist her.

  Today no one would help her. She was alone in a strange land. The oppressive heat closed around her. Her knees wobbled. Cold and then hot sweats wrung the last bit of strength from her. Her bag felt like it contained lead, rather than a change of clothing and her Bible. It now took both hands to hold on. She must find shade. She must sit and collect herself. She must not lose consciousness.

  The flowers and trees that had so delighted her on the walk here now blurred. The streets and paths spread out in too many directions. All looked the same. She could not think, could not find her way, could not stand much longer.

  “Come with me.” The directive came with comforting arms that gathered Prosperity and drew her toward the shade of a large tree.

  Prosperity hadn’t the strength to resist.

  Elizabeth led her into the coolness where breeze and shadow met. “Let’s rest here a bit.” She spread a delicate handkerchief on the ground. “It’s not much, but it will keep some of the dirt off your skirt.” She guided Prosperity onto it.

  The ringing soon eased, and Prosperity’s head cleared enough to wonder why Elizabeth had come back. “How did you know to return? Did you overhear my conversation with the guard?” The idea that anyone had heard that terrible news made her stomach roll.

  Elizabeth simply smiled. “After walking a short distance, my strength was sapped. I feared the heat must have affected you even more, since you are accustomed to a much cooler climate. I had to make certain you were well.”

  Prosperity had misjudged the woman. She blinked back tears. “I’m sorry.”

  “There is nothing to be sorry about.” Elizabeth squeezed her hand.

  “I-I can’t believe it.” She took a deep breath. Unlike Nantucket’s cool breezes, this thick air did not calm. Images of David flashed through her mind. How serious he’d been when he’d asked for her hand in marriage. The relief when she’d agreed. The endearments in his letters. The way he’d smiled when she cut the lock of hair from his head and placed it inside the silver locket. Until we have children. They’d argued over names. He’d wanted to honor her parents. She’d wanted to honor his, but in the end gave in. He had grinned at that, and she’d told him what a fine father he would make.

  He still would. But not with her.

  “How is it possible?” Prosperity’s agonized whisper thundered in the heavy air.

  Elizabeth squeezed her hand again. What could she say? Sh
e had no idea what Prosperity was talking about, though she must suspect. After all, she had heard the news that an officer had married. David.

  Prosperity gulped a breath to quell a sob. “We pledged to marry a-as soon as he finished his tour. He wrote of his love. He said he would send for me when he’d saved enough for the passage. That promise was made long ago, but he never retracted it. He never led me to believe anything was amiss. M-marry another? How can this be?”

  Elizabeth hesitated before asking softly, “How long have you been apart?”

  “A little more than two years.” Prosperity undid the ties of the stifling bonnet and yanked it off her head. “But that shouldn’t make any difference. David is as unchanging as the sea.” Yet even as she said that, she knew its falseness. The sea changed constantly. Placid in the morning, it might rage by nightfall. The sea swallowed ships and men. It had taken her father and never spat him out. Tears welled again. To have lost father and mother and fiancé in so short a time was too much to bear.

  “Then there must be an explanation,” Elizabeth said.

  Prosperity blotted an escaped tear with her plain cotton handkerchief. “He never said a word.” She shook her head in disbelief. “David always insisted on honesty and integrity. His word was his honor. This is so unlike him.”

  “Then it might not be true.”

  Prosperity knew the hollowness of such hope. “How could it not? The guard confirmed that Lt. David Latham returned home to his wife. There cannot be two men of the same name and rank in the same regiment. No, as much as I do not want to believe it, it must be true.”

  Elizabeth didn’t say anything at first. Birds chirped and croaked in unfamiliar songs. Leaves rustled, sounding like a torrent of rain. Prosperity wept silently.

  Only after she had dried the last tear did Elizabeth speak. “Would you like to see him and discover the truth for yourself?”

  “I-I can’t. I can’t bear to see him . . . with another woman.” The tears welled again. “And yet I can’t bear not knowing.” She twisted the damp handkerchief. “What will I do?”

  “I will go with you, if you wish.”

  Prosperity looked at Elizabeth O’Malley, really looked. Beyond the beauty of her features, she exuded understanding and compassion that far surpassed physical attractiveness. Elizabeth meant every word she said. She would brave this moment with her. A wave of gratitude soothed the pain. Prosperity had found a friend in this foreign land.

  Yet no one else could bear this burden. Prosperity took a rattling breath and attempted a smile that came out rather poorly. “Thank you, but this is something I must do myself.”

  “Two are stronger than one, and a three-strand cord can’t easily be broken.”

  “Ecclesiastes.” Prosperity thought of her Bible tucked in the bottom of her bag. All her life she’d found answers there, but this time she wasn’t sure God could speak to the mess she found herself in. She’d never considered what to do if David did not marry her at once. Mrs. Cunningham’s admonition rang in her ears. She should have written ahead. Yet she could not have afforded to stay in Nantucket until a reply arrived.

  Key West had beckoned, brimming with a bright future. David would gather her in his arms, reaffirm his undying affection, and give her enough money to let a room until the wedding. How fanciful those ideas now seemed. Without David’s assistance, her few coins would not provide room and board for more than a night.

  Where would she go? Where could she lay her head tonight? If she could find a room inexpensive enough to accept her paltry sum, where would she stay tomorrow? If David truly had married, then what?

  Her head spun again. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed out the dilemma facing her. “What will I do?”

  Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham were the only other people she knew in Key West, yet they had not offered her any assistance. She might call on them and beg for a position in exchange for room and board.

  Elizabeth wound her arm around Prosperity’s shoulders. “First of all, you will have a decent meal. Then you will rest. This encounter can wait until tomorrow.”

  She thought Prosperity was worried about confronting David. She could not know her desperate circumstances. Prosperity took a shuddering breath. “I suppose you’re right. I will find a room.”

  “You will stay with us. We have an extra room that will be perfectly comfortable until you get your bearings.”

  “I couldn’t—”

  “Rourke would never let me hear the end of it if you don’t stay with us. He is always anxious to hear about far-off ports. Once you’ve rested a bit and regained your composure, perhaps you might tell him of Nantucket. He will have a hundred questions about its commerce and ships.”

  Somehow Elizabeth had managed to turn a charitable act into a welcome visit. If not for the ache in her heart, Prosperity would bubble over with gratitude. But all she could manage was a whispered thank-you.

  “I shan’t stay more than tonight.”

  “Stay as long as you wish.” Elizabeth’s mouth curved into an impish grin. “I would greatly appreciate a woman’s help around the house, though I would understand if you prefer quieter quarters. You see, I have a rather boisterous infant son.”

  “A baby.” Prosperity touched the locket at her throat. “How old?”

  “Almost six months.”

  Six months. Elizabeth’s son had been born during Ma’s final decline. So often Prosperity had seen this cycle. An elder passes and a baby is born. “Hope for the future.”

  “And a challenge at times.”

  “I’m sorry I took you away from your baby.”

  “Not at all. He’s visiting his aunt Anabelle and cousin Patrick for the afternoon.” She stood and extended a hand. “Shall we?”

  Tonight she would gather her strength. Tomorrow she would call on David.

  Disgusted by the smell of liquor on his wife’s breath, David made an excuse about an urgent project and hurried back to the construction site. Work would take his mind off troubles at home.

  When he arrived and learned that one of the cisterns had leaked during a test, all thoughts of Aileen vanished. The project was constantly beset with supply problems that brought progress to a halt, but thus far the engineering had held true. A leaking cistern invited the dual problems of salt water intrusion and undermining the foundation. It must be repaired. He pored over the plans with Captain Dutton, Lieutenant Ambleton, and the sergeants heading the work crews.

  By the time a plan of attack had been agreed upon, darkness had fallen. Captain Dutton invited the lieutenants and sergeants to dine with him at an inn so they could discuss other potential issues. David felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning his wife, but in the army, work always took precedence over family.

  “I’ll send a message back to the garrison with Private Jameson,” Dutton said.

  With conscience eased, David enjoyed a hearty meal of stewed beef, a meat seldom seen on Key West. While dining, the men discussed progress in detail. Eventually talk drifted toward other problems.

  “We’ve had another delay out of Mobile,” Dutton announced. “Don’t expect the next shipment of brick from those suppliers until mid-June.”

  The bad news raised a murmur among the men, but supplies seldom arrived on time or with any regularity.

  “Engstrom reported a puzzling shortage of spikes,” Lieutenant Ambleton added.

  That caught David’s attention. “I thought he’d made more than enough to last through June. Are the men using too many?”

  The question was debated, but no one could agree on what had caused the problem. Some cited the blacksmith’s languid pace and thought he was covering up for laziness. Others believed the men had been overzealous in their use. A few drifted back to the problem of supply. Captain Dutton ended the discussion by charging David to look into the problem.

  By the time the supper meeting ended, the Negro curfew had gone into effect, and the streets had quieted. While Dutton hired a hack to return to the garri
son and the others lingered at the inn, David strolled through the residential area between the town center and the garrison, enjoying the stars above and the occasional domestic scenes in open parlor windows. As he passed one house, he thought he spotted a familiar figure from the corner of his eye.

  Prosperity? His steps froze even as his heart raced. Impossible.

  Though he watched the brightly lit parlor long enough to draw the attention of passersby, the only woman to enter the room had blonde hair. He must have been mistaken.

  Disappointment settled in. Though he could never claim Prosperity for his wife, he selfishly wished for just one glimpse of her or one gentle word to console him that he’d made the correct choice.

  Instead he plodded to his quarters where accusations doubtless awaited. Aileen had been upset that he’d left her that afternoon. The confrontation would not be pleasant. For an instant, he considered lingering in town or walking the docks. Alas, Aileen slept very little at night. She claimed it was due to her delicate condition, but he suspected she was accustomed to those hours from working at the grogshop. Though her indolence irritated him, he let the point rest. After all, he had caused this situation. He must shoulder the consequences.

  After checking in with the guard, he slowed his pace. Experience taught him that one drink invariably led to another and another. Would she curse him, or had she passed out long ago? After her first drinking spell, he’d scolded her so thoroughly that she promised never to do it again. But instead of giving up liquor, she had taken to hiding it.

  He dreaded what he might face. This sort of behavior could not be good for the baby. He must exact another promise from her and watch her more closely, no matter how painful. He would search her things each morning before leaving for work.

  He crossed the parade ground. His quarters were dark. What a relief! She must have retired. There would be no vitriolic accusations tonight.

  He climbed the steps onto the veranda and entered the dark interior. A lamp and matches should sit on the small table just inside the front door, but they weren’t there.