Tender (The Trelawneys of Williamsburg Time Travel Romance Book 1)

by Anne Meredith

  For the first time, she felt a bit of hope, and she was suddenly eager to get back to Williamsburg. “All right.”

  At the door of the cabin, they embraced. “It’s going to be all right,” Camisha said.

  Rachel gave her a wry smile. “Y’ still think this is such a great time?”

  Camisha’s gaze held a somber wisdom. “Yes. The two people I love most are here.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  When Rachel returned to Thomas’s home, Jennie was waiting fretfully in the parlor. “What now?”

  “The sheriff just left, Rachel. The examination court heard testimony of the witnesses today. Mr. Randolph agreed that there’s enough evidence to proceed with the trial. The general court is going to hear and decide his case this session. The trial begins tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? But Thomas—there’s no time—”

  “Thomas may not even be back before it’s over.”

  Snippets of thought floated like confetti in her mind, and she tried to focus on one. “Do you have any idea where he might be?”

  “Westover seems likely. Mr. Byrd could perhaps help, at least to provide guidance. I’ve sent a footman to find him. Did you learn anything at Rosalie?”

  “I found out who killed the woman.”

  “Then our problems are solved!”

  “Not exactly. It’s hard to explain, but it implicates the husband of a friend of mine.”

  “But—why did he do it?”

  “She was abusing his wife. And he choked her and left her there. We think Grey’s former overseer then threw her in the river.”

  “And she drowned.”

  “Ashanti is a free man, but that will be forgotten in such a trial.”

  “Your friend is a negro?”

  “Yes,” she said with an impatient sigh. “At any rate, I need to find George Wythe. If we simply tell the court the truth, the finer details will be lost and Ashanti will be executed.”

  “And you know Grey’s certain to hang otherwise.”

  “Can’t there be some solution?”

  “’Tis a miracle we’ve found an answer for saving Grey, Rachel.”

  But—at what expense?

  She sent a servant to search for Wythe, and they spent the rest of the evening distracting Emily from her father’s extended absence. It was late when they heard the crunching gravel of a carriage stopping at the gate, and Rachel flew to the door. Relief flooded her as the carriage lantern illuminated Thomas’s silhouette. With him were William Byrd and George Wythe.

  “It’s Thomas!” she called to Jennie, who clapped her hands in delight. Rachel flung open the front door, and the three men stood on the steps.

  “Rachel. How good to see you again.” Byrd kissed her hand. “I only wish it could be under happier circumstances.”

  “So do I, sir. Mr. Wythe, I assume you received my message?”

  “Yes, just a few minutes ago at Raleigh Tavern.”

  “I know you have strong feelings about Grey’s past livelihood. For that matter, so do I. But I beg of you to put that aside.”

  The young man gave her a grim glance. “Injustice of any kind grieves me. I will do what I can to help.”

  “Did you hear the trial is to begin tomorrow?” Thomas asked.

  His eyes met hers, and the soft, familiar gray pierced her. The business that had occupied her all day was gone now, leaving only the memory of Grey.

  “Yes. Is there any hope?”

  He touched her shoulder, smiling. “For those of us who choose to find it, dear. How is Jennie?”

  “She’s sleeping now. But I think the baby might be here soon. She’s very tired.”

  Thomas nodded. “Will you join us in the drawing room, Rachel?”

  The men had a glass of sherry, but Rachel merely sat on the edge of her chair, explaining what she’d learned.

  “I knew he was here,” Wythe said. “He’s too stubborn for his own good. But why, I wonder, is Jarvis Griffin lying for the overseer? He’s the second witness, you know.”

  “’Tis dangerous, allowing a free black to abide with bondsmen,” Byrd said. “It can do neither of them good.”

  “Mr. Byrd, Grey intends to free all his bondsmen.”

  His expression was perplexed, and he shook his head wearily. “Then he must have plans to leave the colony.”

  “Why do you say that?” Rachel asked, startled.

  “He cannot make a profit without them,” Thomas said. “Hungry farmers throughout the countryside serve as proof of that.”

  “Then I suppose there are things more important to him than profit.”

  Odd, how much she’d changed since knowing Grey. It had taken the unprincipled greed of his world for her to see that of her own.

  “Can you cite an example?” Byrd said with a smile.

  “Passing on a worthy legacy to his daughter. Not a legacy of dishonor. Mr. Byrd, your town has taught me a great deal.”

  “And what’s that, my dear?”

  She searched for the words. “Things that were once important to me now seem frivolous. Utterly meaningless. I’ve learned that the past is a very relevant part of the present. And that our actions today create consequences for our grandchildren and their grandchildren.”

  Byrd nodded. “What you say is the gravest sort of truth. I wish Virginia would exclude the chattels entirely. Slavery harms not only the bondsmen, but the bondholder as well.”

  Thomas shot Byrd a glance. “Yet you own them well enough, William. And as reward for his deed, my son now plays scapegoat for the crime of one of these free men.”

  “Mr. Trelawney,” Rachel said, “Ashanti did not kill her. What he did do was justified. The woman was abusing his wife in the cruelest sense, one I cannot even describe to gentlemen such as yourselves. But I bribed the gaoler to show me Letitia’s body, and the marks at her wrists must have been made by—well, some sort of restraining device. Anyone who knows her also knows how those bruises could have appeared. And anyone who knows her is aware that any number of men could’ve put them there.”

  The trio exchanged thoughtful looks.

  “Is the lady at Rosalie now?” Wythe asked. “Your friend?”

  “Yes. You’ll find them in the newest of the servants’ cabins.”

  “Then I shall go there. We have much to do tonight.”

  Thomas turned to gaze out the window. “Soon, the sun’s rays will be filtering through the leaves of that tree,” he mused. “’Tis strange, how solemn a simple sunrise can be when their numbers seem to grow short.”

  And it might well be Grey’s last, he implied.

  She decided she might be more useful getting out of their way, and she left them to their planning and climbed the stairs to the room she shared with Emily. Changing into a nightdress, she turned down the opposite side of the bed and climbed in. Her heart turned over as she glanced at Emily’s face, wreathed in candlelight. Rachel dropped a kiss on her cheek, whispering, “I love you.”

  Then she settled into the unavoidable memories of Grey. Her glimpse of him that first morning, as he played on the lawn with his daughter. The night in the gardens at Rosalie, when he’d asked her to spend the rest of her life with him. And the night he’d held her and forced her to confront memories too horrible to face. At last, the resigned yearning in his gaze that morning, as he bade her goodbye, perhaps for the last time.

  No. No.

  Her sleep was fitful, and when she awakened early, the men were already gone. Emily was in Jennie’s room, softly serenading her. The sight gave Rachel peace. “Rachel! Good morning.”

  She hugged the child. “Hello, dear. Are you hungry?”

  “Oh, famished! Shall we have breakfast here?”

  “What do you say, Jennie? Would you prefer to stay in bed?”

  “Heavens, no.” Jennie awkwardly pushed herself up. “I prefer to have this child out, so I can go about the business of mothering. Darling, I hope this child is even half as sweet and charming as you are.”


  Emily giggled. “I shall teach her how to be charming.”

  “What if it’s a boy?” Rachel asked.

  “A boy?” Emily repeated, aghast. “Well, she shan’t be. Those shaggy creatures with the nasty fingernails? She’ll be beautiful, just like Jennie.”

  After dressing, they joined Jennie in the breakfast room. She noticed the exhaustion in Jennie’s face and the effort it took her just to get around, and it worried her.

  After breakfast, Rachel said, “Jennie, I’m going to run down to the Capitol and see what I can learn. Will you be all right for a little while?”

  Jennie’s smile was patient. “Of course. I understand.”

  She hurried down Duke of Gloucester Street to the Capitol.

  At the entry, she was relieved to find a friendly face: that of Godfrey Hastings.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said to him.

  “And I you.” After several moments of silence, he said, “If only your friend Malcolm could take me back in time to the minute before I hired the blackguard Manning. Not my finest hour.”

  “We can’t know how our choices will turn out—can we?”

  His eyes were soft on her, and he held his arm out to her. “Shall we?”

  She placed her gloved hand there, and they entered. The room was packed. Hastings hesitated, glancing around, then led her forward through the crowd to where Thomas had held seats for them. The air in the room was still and hot and miserable, and whispers buzzed through the crowd.

  “He didn’t do it, I tell ye—” a woman said. “A man that fair and handsome, sweet as he is to that little girl of his, couldn’t kill a woman. And even if he did, she had it coming.”

  A hearty chuckle. “True enough, Myrtle. He’s too dashing a chap to have his neck stretched. And the world’s better off without her, from what I hear.”

  The courtroom grew somber as a group of men entered. The last to enter was the distinguished gentleman Rachel recognized as William Gooch. Her gaze swept the chamber as she sought a glimpse of Grey. When she saw him, her heart swelled.

  He stood in profile near the edge of the gallery where the men stood, with Clancy nearby watching over him. At least they’d allowed him to shave and change his clothes for the trial. His head was bowed, his gaze on the floor, his hands folded in front of him. She thought he very well might be praying.

  Standing stalwart at his side was his father. It was grim indeed, what finally brought some families together.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The men took their seats in the council chambers. As president of the council, William Byrd sat apart from them. The court crier tapped a tall staff against the floor. “Silence in this court!” The rabble slowly dwindled.

  “Oyez, oyez. Silence is commanded in this general court of the colony of Virginia while his majesty’s justices are sitting, upon pain of imprisonment. Let all manners of persons who have anything to do with this court draw near and give your attendance. If you have plaint to enter or suit to prosecute, come forth and you shall be heard. God save the King.”

  The courtroom repeated, “God save the King.”

  The clerk faced the governor. “Your excellency, the first item on the docket is the Crown versus Grey Trelawney.”

  Governor Gooch gave a nod. “Call the case.”

  The crier tapped his staff once more on the floor. “Mr. Attorney General, call the case.”

  In his august surroundings, Peyton Randolph, the King’s attorney, seemed older than his twenty-five years. “Your excellency, I am ready. Bring the prisoner before this court.”

  Clancy stepped forward with Grey. Peyton Randolph faced Grey grimly, and Rachel thought of Jennie. He’ll prosecute this case as impartially as if Grey were a stranger.

  “Grey Trelawney, you are brought before this court on charges of murdering your wife, Letitia Trelawney, Lady Windmere. Do you understand this charge?”

  Randolph’s voice held a solemn hush, and she knew that no matter what honor the King had bestowed on him or how well he performed his duties, this man could never look on Grey as no more than a stranger.

  “Yes.” Grey’s voice was quiet.

  “How do you plead?”

  “Not guilty.”

  “Will you be tried by the justices of this court, or by God and by country?”

  “By the justices of this court.”

  He was waiving a jury trial, leaving his fate in the hands of the men who made up the council of Virginia. Among which were William Byrd, but she knew better than to hope for unwarranted leniency. Had he chosen a jury trial, a dozen men would’ve been plucked this moment from the crowd to form a jury.

  “Your excellency,” Randolph went on, “I call the honorable Mr. Peter Jones.”

  A wigged man was sworn in. “Mr. Jones, please state your name.”

  “I am coroner of James City County, in the colony of Virginia.”

  “Please read to us your statement,” Randolph said.

  The coroner read from a sheet of paper. “Letitia Trelawney, countess of Windmere, was found dead in the James River on the morning of the first day of July, 1746. She appeared to have been dead for several hours, but no longer. The lungs were filled with water, and distinctive and hideous bruises were upon the throat and wrists. The cause of death was drowning.”

  “Please describe for the court the nature of the bruises.”

  “The bruises at her throat were made by large human hands.”

  “There were other bruises?”

  “Yes, sir, upon her wrists.”

  “Can you describe those bruises?”

  “’Tis harder to say. I doubt they were made by human hands. A hand would’ve left the impression of the fingers.”

  “Could they have been left by ropes?”

  “I cannot perceive how. Ropes would have made smaller stripes. And a rope tied tightly enough to leave bruises would also have left burns. There were no burns.”

  “Who found the body, Mr. Jones?”

  “I am told it was Mr. Jasper Griffin, the deputy sheriff. I did not see that firsthand.”

  “Thank you.” Randolph glanced at Thomas. “Do you care to question the witness?”

  Thomas approached the coroner. “Mr. Jones, about those bruises you saw. Can you theorize when the deceased may have sustained them?”

  Jones tilted his head. “They could have been made any time in the last forty-eight hours. They were fresh enough.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The coroner was dismissed.

  Randolph said, “I now call Jarvis Griffin to the stand.”

  Griffin was sworn in, and Randolph approached him.

  “Sir, what is your occupation?”

  “I work for Sheriff Clancy. I’m deputy sheriff of James City County.”

  “And how long have you been so charged?”

  “Almost two months, sir.”

  “Please tell us what you know.”

  “’Twas last Monday night, sir, around nine o’clock in the evening, that I was out near the James River, when I heard a woman screaming. Begging for mercy.”

  “How far away from the woman were you?”

  “About a hundred yards.”

  “Are you certain of the distance, sir?” Randolph asked. “That seems quite a distance to be able to hear screams.”

  “My hearing is quite good.”

  “Please continue.”

  “Well, I started toward her, but she stopped screaming all of a sudden. By the time I got to where I could see what was going on, I got scared. I saw him wrapping ropes around the lady’s wrists and feet, and throwing her in the river.”

  “To whom are you referring, Mr. Griffin?”

  “Him,” he said, pointing at Grey. “Grey Trelawney.”

  A low murmur moved through the crowd, and the governor tapped his gavel.

  “You didn’t try to stop him,” Randolph asked.

  “No, sir. I didn’t have a way to protect myself, and it loo
ked like the lady was already dead.”

  “What were you doing on Trelawney land at nine o’clock in the evening?”

  “I was fishing, sir.”

  “Did you hear Lord Windmere or his wife say anything?”

  He thought for a moment. “Yes, sir. He said, ‘That’s the last time you’ll ever make a fool out of me.’”

  Again, a stir in the crowd. Again, the governor impatiently tapped his gavel.

  Randolph paused. “Do you have any evidence to indicate what he meant by that?”

  Griffin considered that for a bit. “No, sir.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I left, sir, and went home.”

  Randolph took a step back. “You what?”

  “I went home, sir. My wife was expecting me.”

  “Were you able to verify that the victim was dead at that time?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Yet you made no attempt to rescue her?”

  Griffin looked at his hands. “No, sir.”

  “You didn’t go to the sheriff?” Randolph asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Why not? You’re a servant of this colony, Mr. Griffin.”

  Rachel was astounded at what she was seeing. The prosecuting attorney was grilling his own witness. Could it be true, what Jennie had said?

  “It made me sick, what I saw.”

  “How did you come to find the body of the deceased?”

  “I went back early the next morning. I couldn’t sleep—my conscience bothered me, as I hadn’t tried to stop Trelawney. When I got to the spot, she was tangled in some brush near the bank.”

  Randolph nodded slowly. “Thank you, Mr. Griffin. Sir?” he prompted Thomas.

  Thomas stared at Griffin for a moment, then slowly looked over the gallery of justices. “Where is your home, Mr. Griffin?”

  “Here in Williamsburg.”

  “And how far would you say Rosalie is situated from your home?”

  “About five or six miles.”

  “Is the sturgeon especially tasty at Rosalie, sir?”

  “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “I assume there was a good reason for you to travel that far to fish, when a number of appropriate places would have crossed your path on the way there?”