Captives' Charade

by Susannah Merrill

  Fromfaro ff,Sarahheardhernamebeing called, but she could not seem to answer. All she wanted was to give way to the comforting darkness that was beginning to overtake her. The last thing she remembered was a distant scream as she limply slumped to the floor.

  CHAPTER 35

  The fresh air, though brisk, held unmistakably the promise of a lovely spring. The rolling hills surrounding the wide, low farmhouse and stables displayed observable hints of the green hue that would wash the meadow soon. Sarah walked contentedly along the rough fence boards encompassing the grazing lands of the country estate that Stewart had once confessed to her was his most prized possession.

  Shadingherluminousblueeyes,Sarah peered off to the west at the valley she had come to America to inspect for her father. There was no doubt the Tremont family would own the property. Much as she would have preferred not to do business with Stewart Chamberlain, the land was choice and with Stewart purchasing half the parcel to extend his farm, it would make a good investment for both families. Besides, it was a heady sensation to claim ownership to such fertile lands in the Colonies-turned-country. Sarah was eager to take title on behalf of her father, thinking of the pleasure she’d had describing in her last of the pleasure she’d had describing in her last acre parcel that stretched 10 miles south and west.

  With a bittersweet sigh, Sarah began her return to the farmhouse where a stout, light-haired woman was making preparations to hang wet laundry on a line that stretched from the long back porch to a post stuck in the middle of the side yard.

  “Vell, you look pleased vis yourself today, liebling,” the woman spoke as Sarah plodded up the plank steps in her borrowed boots that were sizes too big for her slender feet.

  “You can just feel how lovely it’s going to be soon, can’t you, Elsa?” “Ja, ja. Spring comes late to these meadows but ven it arrives, it iss so beautiful,” the German woman smiled, her breath shortened by her labors to air the wash. Her crinkling pale blue eyes and rosy cheeks gave way to a full-mouthed grin as she glanced at the younger woman. “And how iss our Kinderlein today?”

  Sarah smiled, stroking her rounded girth hidden beneath the somber woolen duster she used for chores. “Our baby is fine today, Elsa. Very active this morning.”

  “Dat’s gut. You have a strong one in dere.” “That she is, Elsa,” Sarah agreed, contemplating the trembling mound beneath her slender hand. Leaning against a corner post, she sighed contentedly.

  Her pregnancy, now in its sixth month, was a good one after the initial weeks of queasiness and unhappiness. She had long since resigned herself to her fate, and now accepted it with a growing sense of anticipation. No longer did she worry about the future. Knowing she had survived so much gave her strength to look ahead with a calmness that sometimes surprised her.

  This place had a lot to do with her feelings of well-being. And these people, she added, watching Elsa briskly go about her chores. Elsa and Johann Kemper were the caretakers of Stewart’s farm. They had welcomed her as a daughter, showering her with love and affection, providing her with much more than a place to hide. Instead they had made for her a happy, simple home. For Sarah, who had lived in elegant luxury all her life, these plain, good, down-to-earth people had provided a foundation for her own feelings of confidence to be rekindled.

  Sarah was very glad that Peggy and Jeremiah had convinced her to take up residence here to await the birth of the baby. After that horrid day when her pregnancy had been discovered, she had wanted only to flee to England as fast as possible. But the Slades had convinced her of the dangers of an arduous voyage in her condition and the futility of doing it merely to escape the baby’s father. “Sarah,” Peggy finally pleaded, “if we promise not to tell Stewart where you are, will you please reconsider living with the Kempers? Mind you, we still believe Stewart has an obligation and should be told, but we respect the fact that it is your decision.”

  Sarah had agreed to this at last, especially after Peggy and Jeremiah had promised not to aid Stewart in finding her. Hopefully she would have time to leave with the babe before his homecoming. She believed the Slades’ complicity had a great deal to do with Stewart’s complete lack of interest in her, which was obvious in his decision to stay away for over five months. Had he even considered the possible consequences of his actions on the island, he should have returned by now, if only to see what their tryst might have spawned. His avoidance of Sarah could only mean that he neither thought of her, nor cared.

  Remembrances of Stewart were beginning to fade for Sarah. Her bitterness had been so strong for a while that it had started the process of forgetfulness – the only thing Sarah could count on to dull the pain of her unrequited love. And because of this abatement in her longing, she had recently made some important plans.

  She had decided to lie about her pregnancy, rather than tell the truth to her parents. The truth would make her life miserable -- for her parents would not only demand a marriage, but would insist that she wed a man they no longer respected. Sarah and Stewart would be trapped in a loveless match, fraught with recriminations on all sides. She could not imagine a more difficult life.

  Tospareeveryone,shehaddecidedshe would tell them that she had fallen in love with one of the officers on the voyage to America and that they had planned to marry but never had a chance because he had died in the pirate hijacking. She would console them with the fact that he had been from a good English-born family, and that for the sake of their friends, they could explain that their daughter was a widow. They would believe her, of course, for she had never been known to lie. It was the story she told to the Kempers and they were satisfied. Indeed, she had almost begun to believe the tale herself. If only her mind could separate her gallant sailor’s appearance from that of Stewart’s ....

  “I think I will go and check on my bread, Elsa,” Sarah stated, shuffling behind the woman as she made her way to the back door. “The dough should have risen by now.” Not waiting for a response, Sarah entered the farmhouse kitchen, enjoying the enveloping warmth and sweet smells that surrounded her. She checked the bread, inordinately proud of the two pans filled with plump, smooth dough. After she split the tops and poured generous amounts of melted butter into the creases, she deftly swung open the iron door of the wood-fired hearth oven and slid the pans inside.

  Thanks to Elsa, Sarah had become quite handy in the kitchen, learning to cook and bake several simple recipes, looking forward each day to improving her culinary skills. At times she thought this is what she would miss most upon her return to England – the simple and heretofore unknown pleasures of the kitchen.

  Sarah left the generous kitchen, walking through the low-beamed parlor-dining room area for her comfortable bedroom on the far end of the farmhouse. The home was small by the standards of a successful landowner like Stewart, but it had been built with plans for expansion as years passed and circumstances changed. Right now it was basically one structure with three bedrooms: for the Kempers, Stewart and any visiting guests.

  The Kempers had settled Sarah in the guest room. It contained a simple vanity, a wardrobe, a large featherbed and nightstand. Each piece was simply and beautifully made. Sarah was more pleased with the modest but comfortable quarters than even her own luxurious room in England, for she tended it herself.

  In fact, she and Elsa shared nearly all the household chores. Sarah smiled, thinking how her mother would react to this, especially if she could see her daughter in her present condition. The English lady-of-the-manor supervised housekeeping but rarely participated in the more mundane chores of dusting, sweeping and washing. And certainly not when they were in a family way! But Sarah enjoyed her duties, and more than that, was pleased that Elsa did not consider her pregnancy a reason for confinement. Being cared about and kept busy was so much more rewarding than being coddled, Sarah decided as she removed Elsa’s boots and hung the large man’s overcoat on a peg.

  Smoothing back her chestnut hair which was tied in a loose bow at the nape of her neck, Sar
ah fluffed her bangs as she reentered the parlor and began dusting the simple but handsome furniture. She was just finishing sweeping the colorful braided rugs that covered the wide-planked floors when Elsa returned, announcing that she was going to begin preparing the midday meal.

  Some time later, as Sarah was slicing her prized bread into thick slabs, Johann Kemper returned from his morning’s labors. A tall, large man with thinning brown hair, pointed nose and the same rosy cheeks as his wife, Johann Kemper was a somber fellow, but with gray eyes that spoke of a hidden humorous vein. Sarah had learned from him that he and Elsa had met Stewart in Amsterdam several years before when they were seeking passage to the New World. They and their young son were looking to carve out a better way of life than the one afforded them in their native Germany. Johann had served in the military but sought a less restricted life for his son who would have been forced to enter military training at the tender age of 12 had they decided to remain.

  Stewart had offered Johann the job of helping him build the farmhouse and then, with his shipping interests taking up so much of his time, he asked the Kempers to stay on as caretakers. The situation was better than they had ever hoped for, and though Johann was not one to talk much, when he did speak of his employer, his voice was tinged with an emotion that one could almost call worship.

  Elsa and Johann’s son, Albin, was now married and living on a small farm several hours’ ride from Stewart’s farm. Albin and his wife, Lydia, were expecting their first child in April, and arrangements for this exciting event were the topic at their mid-day meal.

  “Idon’tknowwhyyouaresoconcerned about me,” Sarah teased them. “You have all the neighbors taking turns checking on me each day, you’ve arranged for Cecily and Tom Weeks to help me with the chores, and you’ve laid in enough provisions to see me through next winter! I will be fine. The baby is not due till summer. Remember, it is only April.”

  “Ja, I know, liebling, but iss not gut for you to be alone,” Elsa cautioned as they ate a delicious venison stew.

  “But I won’t be alone that often,” Sarah insisted, “and

  untoward ever

  you’ve told me yourself nothing

  happens. You’ve been here by yourself many times, Elsa.” “Ja, das true, but never with child,” Elsa retorted, but smiled in spite of herself. “Johann and I would be happier if you vas to go vis us, to be vis Albin and his Mary.”

  “But you know I will be more comfortable here.” Sarah responded for what seemed the hundredth time. “I feel fine, but not up to such a journey. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to ‘our Kinderlein’ now, would we?”

  Both Johann and Elsa chuckled at this, and the three silently reaffirmed the plans already made.

  CHAPTER 36

  April 6, 1810 The drops of rain, though light, were steady and cold. Sarah, bundled in her man’s overcoat, her oversized boots, and a crumpled wide-brimmed hat belonging to Johann, was plodding through the barnyard mud, sifting grains through her hands to feed Elsa’s hens. They, too, looked rather sorry, their brown feathers matted down by the rain. They clucked and fussed as Sarah walked through the flock, and fought among themselves for each grain.

  The Kempers had been gone for three days. The Weeks children, Cecily and Tom, usually performed the barnyard chores, but today was Sunday and she knew they were not coming. And if the rain kept up, they would probably not be able to visit tomorrow.

  Sarah didn’t mind, however. She rather enjoyed the chores that had been left to do. Johann’s small herd of cows was being tended by the Weeks’ at their own homestead so she had little to worry about except feeding the chickens, the two goats, from which she got her milk, and collecting eggs.

  Her wide, shallow basket nearly empty, Sarah shook out the last of the grain and was about to return to the house when she heard the slosh of a horse’s hooves on the path between the farmhouse and the barnyard. Somewhat surprised to have a visitor, she whirled around, clutching the basket to her body ... and nearly choked on the gasp that escaped her as the vision of the rider rose up from the mist.

  Stewart Chamberlain was obviously stunned by her presence but managed to recover enough to jest, “I hadn’t realized the Kempers took on some help while I was away. How are you, Sarah?” he asked quietly, dismounting in a smooth, graceful motion.

  “You ... you ... what are you doing here?” Sarah squeaked defensively, conscious of her gross appearance.

  “This is my home, in case you’ve forgotten,” he replied matter-of-factly, taking a kerchief from beneath his black cloak in order to wipe his face and neck. As he cocked his wide-brimmed black hat to the back of his head, Sarah was immediately aware of how much more handsome he looked than she had ever remembered. His strong, chiseled features, tanned by the Southern sun, the crop of springy dark hair, and those dashing brown eyes that missed nothing on her startled face – he was as striking as ever. It seemed, too, that he had gotten taller, but then she remembered the ugly, flat boots on her feet, and blushed.

  Not knowing what else to do, she began walking toward the barn. Stewart joined her, leading his horse. “I thought you weren’t returning to Massachusetts till the fall. That’s what you said in your last letter,” she forced out, clutching the round basket to her body.

  “I felt I’d been away too long,” he answered as they reached the dry dimness of the barn. “I have business to take care of here ... and I haven’t been tending to it.” He gave her a long, look. “I told your father I would see to your wellbeing, and from the looks of things, I’ve been neglecting my duties.”

  This remark infuriated Sarah and she lashed out, “I am absolutely fine, and have been well cared for by both your family and the Kempers. You needn’t have returned for my sake.”

  His unexpected appearance shocked her to the core. All the longing that she thought had dried up was there again, as if it had never left. And to top it off, the baby was kicking up a storm, as if she, too, recognized her father’s presence. Sarah desperately clutched the basket closer to her bosom.

  As Stewart removed the horse’s saddle, he echoed her sentiments. “Well, I must admit, despite your peculiar attire, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you looking quite so beautiful. Perhaps you were always meant for a humble life. It does become you,” he offered in that warm, sultry voice that always left her weak.

  “I don’t appreciate being mocked,” she retorted, nervous as a cat. “Do you expect me to feed Elsa’s chickens in a ball gown? In this weather?”

  Heignoredherire,exceptforaslight twinkle in his brown eyes. “By the way, where is Elsa?”

  “The Kempers have gone to be with Albin and Lydia, who’s having a ... baby.” She nearly stumbled on the last word, but covered her nervousness quickly. “The Weeks and other neighbors have been helping with the chores, until today that is.”

  “Why didn’t you go with them?” he asked, rubbing down the horse with a dry blanket. “I preferred staying here. The Kempers had enough to worry about without me tagging along. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

  “You mean you’re here alone?” he inquired, his brow creasing in a frown. “As I said,” she retorted, as if talking to a slow wit, “the Weeks children are helping with the chores and other neighbors come by each day. I would not call myself ‘alone.’”

  “Well I would,” he snorted angrily. “You are quite as stubborn as ever. I must speak to the Kempers about letting you have your way. You never did know what was best for you.”

  “Ibegyourpardon,”shechallengedsharply, “but you are in no position to determine my situation at this point! Why don’t you just go back to Boston – or Charleston – and leave me alone!”

  Stewart laughed at her outburst, further infuriating her. “Still jealous of Felicia, aren’t you? But if you recall, it was your choice to end our relationship. Was I supposed to give up all feminine companionship as a result?”

  “Knave!” she spat, wasting no time flouncing off in the direction of the stable do
or. But Stewart was finished with his horse and quickly caught up with her before she got outside.

  “Sarah, wait!” he called but she ignored him. Like a shot, he grabbed her arm and in so doing, pulled her off balance, knocking the basket from her hand. Before she knew what happened, she was pulled up against his powerful length. “What in God’s name...” he whispered hoarsely, as her hat tumbled to the dirt floor.

  They stared at each other for an endless moment, and then, blue eyes snapping, she pushed against his chest with all her might. He released her but kept his hand on her arm to steady her as she stumbled backward, her lips pinched into a tight, defiant line. Immediately his eyes went to the mound covered by her coat. Their eyes met again, his wide with disbelief, hers challenging, hiding the dreaded apprehension that she felt.

  “Sarah,” he said, his voice rendered quiet. “You’re going to have a baby?” Sarah snatched her arm away from his grip, easy enough to accomplish in his present state of shock. But he managed to recover before she could escape him. With a sudden move, he blocked her path. “By God, Sarah, answer me!”

  “Do I need to?” she taunted him. “I believe some things speak for themselves. And you were always quite astute. If you don’t mind, I would like to return to the house.”

  This time, Stewart let her pass, and Sarah was filled with overwhelming pain. A warm tear mixed with the cold rain beating on her face as she returned to the farmhouse kitchen. She was furious with herself for fearing that he would saddle up his horse again and leave, riding out of her life again as quickly as he had entered it.

  Well, it wouldn’t be the first time a man flew the consequences of his appetites, and besides, her plans did not include the baby’s father at all. It was just that seeing him reminded her of all the things she had worked so hard to forget – the most important of which was that she loved him, desperately.