Tempting Torment

by Jo Goodman

  Jessa dropped the cloth in the basin and checked the bandage at Noah's right side. At least the bleeding had stopped. This bandage, the fourth she had applied since coming to the cottage, was only stained pink with his blood. It occurred to her that perhaps he simply didn't have much blood left, that he had lost too much already. The thought so frightened her that she refused to give it credence and resolutely smothered it, keeping herself busy by applying the damp cloth to his face still another time.

  As Jessa bent over Noah, a strand of her pale hair fell over one shoulder and caressed his cheek. She watched him turn his face to the side and unconsciously wrinkle his nose as he tried to remove himself from her unintentional tickling.

  "Oh bother!" she said under her breath. She straightened quickly and impatiently braided her waist-length hair until it fell in a single line down her back. Satisfied that she could keep it out of his way, she bathed his face and neck again and again, pausing only when she heard Gideon alternately babbling and crying in the other room. Occasionally Noah turned restlessly and murmured something, but Jessa, though she leaned forward and listened carefully, could make out nothing. "I won't let you die," she told him, repeating aloud the litany that she had been saying to herself. "I won't let you die."

  Hours later, her own strength severely tested, Jessa took her leave of Noah. Shutting the door quietly behind her, she leaned against it, eyes closed, and marshaled what remained of her resolve.

  "Ye look like death itself."

  Jessa merely accepted the observation, ignoring the strident tone in which it was delivered because she knew that genuine concern had prompted Mary to speak. With some effort Jessa pushed away from the door and walked to the rough-hewn table where Mary sat nursing Gideon. The baby was suckling noisily at Mary's breast, oblivious to anything but his own needs. "Shall I make you a cup of tea?"

  "Make me a cuppa tea?" Mary's upper lip curled in derision and her dark brown eyes widened. She smoothed back a tendril of her flyaway red hair. "You're daft, child. Sit down." She pushed out the chair opposite her with the toe of her shoe. "Sit! As soon as Adam 'ere is done wi' 'is dinner, I'll fix the tea. You 'aven't been off yer feet since the boys brought you and the guvnor back. And them! Closed mouth as I've ever seen. Wouldn't tell me a word of what 'appened. Me own 'usband didn't 'ave a word for me. Drops a kiss on me cheek and Adam in me arms and sez he'll be seein' me when 'e can. The lout."

  "Don't call him that," Jessa corrected tiredly, rubbing her eyes. The candle in front of her seemed to waver precariously. She reached out to steady it only to realize it was she who was wavering. Gripping the sides of her ladder back chair, Jessa held herself rigid.

  "Davey? I'll call 'im a lout if the shoe fits."

  "No. I meant the baby. His name is Gideon. You mustn't forget. Especially now that we have Mr. McClellan in the next room."

  "Oh." Mary stroked Gideon's cheek. "McClellan. That the name of the guvnor?"

  "Yes. Noah McClellan. He's an American."

  Mary was much struck by that information. "Imagine that. Don't seem right somehow, what wif 'im gettin' mixed up in this business. Davey seemed mighty sorry it 'appened. 'Course I don't know precisely what 'appened. Thought everything was planned to a hair's breadth of perfection." She looked at Jessa expectantly, her round face as smooth and guileless as the baby's at her breast, yet there was no denying the shrewd, knowing look in her eyes.

  Jessa's tenuous threadlike hold on her emotions snapped. Tears welled in her eyes as she relived every part of the robbery gone wrong. She slumped forward, laid her head in the cradle of her forearms, and sobbed quietly.

  Mary was instantly contrite for having pressed Jessa for information."'Ere now. What's this? It weren't yer fault. I'm sure of that as I'm sure of anything." When this did nothing to relieve Jessa's misery Mary sighed empathetically. "Oh, go on. 'Ave a good cry. Then ye tell me everything. We'll sort it out. I'll 'ave Davey's guts for garters if 'e's done this to ye."

  Jessa raised her head and wiped her eyes with the hem of her black gown, giving Mary a rare watery smile. "No one's done anything to me. Oh, Mary, everything went wrong! And I'm afraid he's going to die! We'll be murderers then! I can't live with that."

  Mary reached across the table and patted Jessa's hand firmly. "Hush. Yer speakin' nonsense now. There's no cause to talk about livin' or dyin'. Not for you, not for the guvnor. He'll be right an' tight in no time. Mark me if he ain't. Ye did good by 'im. Better than Dr. Gardener could 'ave done. I swear ye did! And ye sewed 'im up as pretty as a cross-stitched rose. I never saw the like before."

  "But he's feverish, Mary, and he's never come around. It's been hours. I don't know what else to do for him." She held up her hands in a gesture of defeat. "Mayhap I shouldn't have stitched the wound. He's so weak. I think the ball did even more damage than I first thought."

  Gideon's head had fallen away from Mary's breast and the baby was sleeping comfortably in the crook of her soft arms. "Here, ye take this sweet one. He's done in." She righted her bodice after Jessa took the baby. "I'll make us both a cuppa tea." With characteristic purpose Mary set about her task, crossing the small room to the stone hearth and taking down the kettle. Her movements were deft and economic as she poured the water and steeped the tea. "There's a bit of rabbit stew 'ere if you want some."

  "No. Nothing for me. The tea will be fine." Jessa pressed her cheek against Gideon's forehead. "I couldn't eat anything." She looked up when she heard Mary's clucking. "You shouldn't mother me. I'm one and twenty, Mary. Hardly a babe."

  "And I've only got four years on ye, pet, but it seems to me it must be four score. Ye don't take care of yerself at all. Look at ye! Thin as a willow, no color in yer cheeks, and yer eyes as puffy as clouds. You'll not do the little one a bit o' good if ye keep on this way. Gideon needs ye, Jessa. Yer the only one what can 'elp 'im. You've got to think about that."

  "It seems that it's all I can think about," Jessa said wearily. She laid Gideon in the cradle Mary had placed near the window seat. "You'll have to sleep in here, little man. Our bedchamber is occupied." Deciding that Gideon did not seem put out in the least, Jessa drew the yellowed window curtains closed and returned to the table, taking the mug of tea Mary placed in front of her.

  "I'll sleep on the window seat tonight," said Mary. "Ye take my bed in the loft."

  Jessa shook her head. "No, I'll want to look in on Mr. McClellan from time to time. It's better if you stay in the loft. Now that Gideon's sleeping through the night you won't have to be up and down the ladder."

  "I can see to the guvnor. Ye need to rest."

  Jessa set her mug down hard. "No. I need to assure myself, Mary. He's my responsibility. He was shot because he was trying to help Gideon and me. I owe him."

  Mary blinked in surprise at Jessa's adamant tone. "Very well," she said quietly. "I'll take the loft. I won't sleep much anyway, not with Davey out there. I never sleep good with 'im away."

  "I don't think he'll be gone more than a few weeks. Just until the authorities call a halt to their search. You know how it is. Sometimes they quit after a few days."

  "But no one's ever been 'urt before. Leastways not so that everyone would think he's dead."

  "I couldn't leave Mr. McClellan there. He would have died. We had to try to save him."

  "I understand. Ye did the right thing. Mayhap ye should tell me the whole of it. What 'appened on the road tonight?"

  Jessa brushed back a wayward strand of hair with the back of her hand. Her clear gray eyes closed briefly and when she spoke it was in a dull, pained voice that she hardly recognized as her own. "Davey took me to Topping just as we planned. I walked to the inn with Gideon and purchased the fares for the stage to London. Everyone was very solicitous and I began to realize that Hank was right, that being a widow with a child was going to be helpful."

  Mary nodded wisely. "Davey's brother knows these things. 'E wouldn't take us down the wrong path."

  "Yes, well, everything seemed to be fine. No o
ne on the coach was talkative but they were kind. I can tell you I wasn't feeling good about what was going to happen."

  "That's just like ye," Mary said sympathetically. "We knew it would be 'ard on ye."

  Jessa ignored the comment, intent on getting through her explanation quickly. "The stage made several stops, including one at Hemmings, near the Linfield estate. That's where Mr. McClellan came on. He'd had a terrible row with the innkeeper about his horse and he was desperate to get out of Hemmings and go to Stanhope. I felt so sorry for him. No one said a word. I think they were afraid. He was really the most congenial sort of person, Mary. Gideon was being so fussy and Mr. McClellan quieted him. He even showed me how to apply a bit of spirits to Gideon's gums. It helps with teething, you know."

  Mary's mouth pursed but she remained quiet. How like Jessa to befriend a Yankee. It was not to be borne!

  "If it hadn't been for Mr. McClellan I don't know how I would have broached the subject of the other robberies. I knew time was getting short and that I had to find a way to encourage the passengers to trust their valuables to Gideon's care, yet I couldn't think of any way to say it. Nothing we practiced seemed right."

  "Yer just not very good at deceit, and that's just as well," Mary said soothingly. "No reason you should whip yerself for not takin' to it."

  Jessa supposed that was a compliment of sorts. Her smile was rueful. "Somehow Mr. McClellan had everyone talking and it just came up naturally. And not a moment too soon. Hank, Davey, and Will stopped the coach not long afterward. Mr. McClellan even delivered a facer to Lord Gilmore because his lordship was intent on fighting."

  "Gilmore is a pup. Too 'igh in the instep if you ask me."

  "He's also a crack shot. He could have hurt Davey or the others."

  "Aye. I suppose I 'ave to thank the guvnor for that."

  "I don't know that he'll be pleased when he discovers the truth." Jessa sighed and sipped her tea, warming her hands around the steaming mug. "We all left the coach just as Davey ordered. He was completely ill-mannered."

  Mary caught back a laugh. "Highwaymen ain't noted for politeness, no matter what others think. It's a dirty business and you've always known it." She held Jessa's troubled gaze and said more gently, "But go on, what 'appened then?"

  "Will gathered up the few valuables the passengers still had on them while Davey took some rings from Lord Gilmore. Davey was on his way to the coach roof to check the baggage when Will made some churlish comment about Gideon crying. I know he was trying to be mean, for effect, you know, but Mr. McClellan didn't know that. He reached in his vest for the flask of spirits and Will panicked."

  "Will didn't know Mr. McClellan wasn't carrying a primed piece."

  "I know that. No one feels worse about the shooting than Will. The entire reason I joined this escapade was to prevent violence. None of us wanted that."

  Mary shook her head sadly. "Poor Will. No wonder 'e looked so sickly. Davey and 'Ank will be givin' 'im a proper set down once they're settled in 'iding."

  "He deserves it," Jessa said without sympathy. "After the shooting Hank took charge, forcing the passengers back in the coach and making the driver take to the road."

  "They didn't suspect ye were part of it, did they?"

  "I don't think so. They wanted Gideon of course, though whether it was his safety or their money they were worried about I don't know. They might have put up more of a protest if Mr. McClellan hadn't already been shot. They really had no choice but to leave me behind. I doubt they suspect I would have been made to stay with the highwaymen no matter what happened. They couldn't know that Gideon keeping their valuables was all part of the plan."

  "Then we only 'ave to keep the truth from Mr. McClellan. I don't know if it was a good idea to bring 'im 'ere after all."

  Jessa looked at her friend in bewilderment. "What else could I do, Mary? Traveling by coach to town would surely have killed him. Your cottage was much closer. Will built a litter and Hank and Davey covered the traces. I think we're safe here."

  "For a time. The search will widen come first light. Someone's bound to be around on the morrow askin' questions."

  "And you'll take care of that. They won't search the cottage. They have no cause."

  "Aye, I'll take care of the King's men when they come, but you'll 'ave to see that the babe and Mr. McClellan are kept quiet. And no good will come of it if they see you. Yer not fancy free yerself."

  Jessa nodded, setting down her mug. "No, I'm not, am I?" Rotating her head gently, she tried to take some of the stiffness out of her neck. "I'm so tired of it all, Mary. I don't know where to turn. If it weren't for you and Davey, Gideon and I would have no one." She bit her lip, stifling a sob, and turned her head so Mary wouldn't see her tears again." I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not usually so self-pitying."

  Mary stood and circled the table. Her hands were large and sturdy, but infinitely tender as they closed about Jessa's thin shoulders. "Don't make yerself sick with worry. You've come this far. Adam—I mean Gideon—is safe. He wouldn't be if it weren't for ye, Jessa. Never forget that."

  Jessa's shoulders sagged and relaxed under the pressure of Mary's kneading hands. "How can you be so calm? And so good to me? The sacrifices that you've made, Mary, they were enormous."

  Mary's hands stopped their soothing motion briefly. "There was nothing that could be done for my baby. 'E was never 'ealthy, not like Gideon. I'm thankful for the time I 'ad with young Davey. From the moment I saw my boy I knew I'd be sayin' farewell to 'im before the first year of 'is life was over. There's nothin' in the world what can replace my son, and I wish I 'ad more time wif 'im, but I don't regret that 'is death 'elped ye and Gideon."

  Jessa stared at the faint blue network of veins on the back of her pale hands and her thoughts traveled three months back in time. In her mind's eye she could see Mary and Davey laying the body of their infant son on a bed of fallen pine boughs. Mary was stoic about her loss. It was Davey who wept, Davey whose harsh sobs were captured in the bitter cold air. Gideon was uncharacteristically quiet during the brief ceremony, and it was Jessa who knelt and covered the dead infant to protect it from animals. When the body was found everyone assumed the child had died of exposure just as everyone assumed the infant was Adam Penberthy. It had been Lady Barbara, who had never seen her nephew above twice, who had identified the tiny body. Jessa felt ill every time she thought of the Penberthys mistaking young Davey for Adam. Surely that proved how little they cared for the child.

  Mary gave Jessa a reproving shake and began to unfasten the back of Jessa's mourning gown. "Lady Barbara wouldn't 'ave rested until she found ye or Adam. She can afford to be generous now that she thinks it's Adam restin' in the Penberthy vault. My son 'ad a fine burial, Jessa. 'E's at peace. And so should ye be."

  "You said it yourself. I'm not fancy free."

  "Not yet. But soon. Soon as we can get you and Gideon out of England. Things have slowed some. No one's lookin' so 'ard for ye now." She finished unfastening Jessa's dress. "There now. Put on yer shift and get some sleep. The sun will be up before ye know it and the guvnor will 'ave us busy." Mary yawned and stretched, arching her back. "I've a mind to get a bit of sleep myself." She winked at Jessa as she rounded the table on her way to the loft. "I've got to be fresh for the King's men."

  Jessa wished she had some of Mary's easy confidence. Mary's husband and brothers-in-law were in hiding. The cottage had been turned into an infirmary for a wounded man, a nursery for a baby, and a refuge for a woman still hunted by the law. Yet Mary shrugged it off as if it were all meant to be. Jessa couldn't think of it that way. It seemed to her that life should not be so cruel, that she was somehow responsible for everything that had happened and that at each crossroads she kept making the wrong decision.

  Mary would have scoffed at this idea. Jessa would not permit herself the luxury. She slipped into her sleeping shift and blew out the candles on the table. A log dropped in the hearth and the sparks of heat and light cast an eerie sh
adow across the room. Jessa huddled on the window seat, resting her head on her forearm. One hand hung over the side, close to where Gideon lay, and she drew comfort from his nearness. "I think we're survivors, Gideon," she said softly. "I think we must be. There's no turning back, no way to undo all that's been done. Even if we live to regret it at least we will live."

  Jessa closed her eyes and in moments she was asleep.

  A loud thud brought her instantly awake. Attuned as she was to every conceivable noise that Gideon could make, Jessa's first thought was for the baby. Stretching out her arm, she felt for him in the darkness. He was still in the cradle, sleeping soundly with his legs curled under him and his butt in the air. Jessa sat up and tried to orient herself. The sound was not repeated and she realized it could not have come from the door. Soldiers would not have stopped with one knock. Careful not to trip over the cradle, Jessa lit a candle at the hearth and padded barefoot to the bedroom.

  Noah McClellan was lying on the floor in a tangled heap of sheets and blankets. The nightstand had been knocked over and the heavy basin lay very near his head. The puddle of water was being quickly soaked up by the sheets.

  Jessa righted the stand and set her candle on it. Moving the basin to one side, she ran her hand gingerly through the thick cap of Noah's hair. It appeared he had missed being struck by the basin. Jessa breathed more easily. She worked quickly, tossing the blankets aside to keep them dry. She untangled the sheets from around Noah, then used them to mop the water.

  "You really belong in bed, Mr. McClellan," she said softly, "it's too cold for you here on the floor." Her comment brought no response. "But I don't suppose you're of a mind to be cooperative." Jessa pulled away the bandage and could have cried again when she saw her handiwork had been torn apart. Tears were useless. Beating her clenched fists against the floor proved just as futile but it made her feel better. Anger at her own helplessness lent her strength. Hooking her arms under Noah's shoulders, Jessa pulled him high enough so that she could drag him toward the bed. Unfortunately she did not judge her position correctly and when he collapsed on the bed it was with her under him. Her shift tore at the shoulder as she twisted away, baring her breast. The sensation of her skin pressed intimately against Noah's taut back froze her into immobility.