by RITA GERLACH
“Yes. Collect your things. Waste no time.”
“But your reputation, my lady? Is it not true there has been talk of me, about what happened with Lanley?”
“I don’t care what people say,” Lady Margaret replied. “Do not think so long on this, else you’ll change your mind and disappoint me greatly.”
Rebecah threw her arms around Lady Margaret’s neck and hugged her. “Thank you. I will come for a time, until I feel strong enough to go.”
“On my word, Rebecah, go where?”
“To Lavinia. I could stay with her until the baby comes. Then I’ll apply for a governess position.”
Lady Margaret looked astonished indeed. “There’s no need for you to do that.”
“I need to make my own way in the world.”
She stepped away, but before she reached her armoire, the door swung open and her uncle appeared in the doorway in his muddy riding clothes. Lady Margaret stood with a lift of her face, undaunted by his stern demeanor. Rebecah moved next to her.
“Ah, Samuel.” Lady Margaret gave him a proud look. “You’re back.”
Brent looked at the women suspiciously. “Business is none concluded, Margaret. War comes, and with war there is profit to be made.”
“I assume if His Majesty sends his troop and fleet to the Colonies, your stock in the iron mine shall not suffer for it. It should bring a good profit I should think.” She swept forward, her skirts making a soft rustle along the floor.
“You’re too outspoken for your gender, Margaret, and wiser in business than most men.” For a quick moment, Brent stared at Lady Margaret. “What a beautiful woman you are for your mature years,” he was bold to say.
“It isn’t often I receive a compliment from you. But I’ll forgo accepting it.”
He shrugged. “Why?”
“Strong drink inflames your emotions and makes a mockery of a man.”
“So, what has brought you to Endfield?” he said ignoring her comment. “March said you were up here.”
“Rebecah is coming to live with me.” She looked him straight in the eye. More and more Rebecah grew to admire Lady Margaret’s courage. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Samuel?”
He swung around to meet Rebecah. “Is this true?”
“It is.” She spoke with an air of respect, but not lacking confidence.
“She is of age, Samuel.” Lady Margaret stepped forward. “You must yield your desire to control her. What you’ve done is outrageous and cruel. These are not the Middle Ages when men kept women under lock and key.”
He threw out his arms. “I don’t care if she goes. It’s one less burden for me, one less mouth to feed. You’ve ruined your reputation, Rebecah. You’ll never be able to show yourself in society. You’ve shocked the world by throwing off Lanley.”
“Hardly the world, Uncle.”
Brent frowned. “I’ve endured glances and whispers everywhere I’ve gone. With you leaving, perhaps people will think the better of me for it. Soon they will forget.”
“Perhaps, but I will not.”
His mouth fell open. “I took you under my roof when you were orphaned. The least you can do is thank me.”
“You took her in out of duty, not love, Samuel,” Lady Margaret said.
He looked at her troubled, and Rebecah saw he was broken and lonely without Lady Kathryn.
“It’s good to let her go.”
“Do not instruct me, Margaret.”
“Lanley was not for her and you’re disappointed. But she must live her life and be the only one accountable for it.”
He slammed his fist on the table. “When have I not thought of what was best for her?”
Margaret frowned. “Hardly ever, I’m sure. Sometimes we demand what we think is best for the young without considering their feelings or the outcome.”
He stiffened, unable to usurp the truth of her reproof. “She will regret not having Lanley when she has no money.”
“She must find her own path and not follow the one you wish her to tread.” Lady Margaret matched his words as well as his emotion.
“And what about your stepson? Shall you sway her mind concerning him?”
“He is innocent and you know it.”
“The fact he shot a British officer, is enough,” he stormed. “Whether or not it did Richard any injury to bring on his death, I admit I don’t know. Yet he deserves some kind of punishment.”
Rebecah’s limbs trembled. He did not know? He now confessed his uncertainty after accusing Jack, after tearing them from each other?
“You succeeded in that, Samuel.”
Brent raised his hand to his forehead. “It gives me a headache to think about it, madam.”
“You deserve more than a headache. You were not compassionate toward Rebecah, or toward Lavinia your own daughter. It is coldhearted to force a woman to wed where she does not love, and then to separate her from the man she does by some unfounded accusation. For shame.”
When Rebecah took a step toward him, a burst of sunlight streamed through the window. She stood in the shower of it, her cheeks burning and her eyes set without fear upon her uncle.
“Wish me well, Uncle Samuel. I’ve nothing else to say, except I pray you fare well in life.”
She held out her hand. He looked at it and turned away.
“Forget you ever had a family at Endfield.” He moved his hands behind his back and faced the window, so not to look at her. “You’ve chosen to be rebellious and disobedient, shirking your duty to marry where you should. You’re an unfaithful daughter to the wishes of your father.”
Rebecah’s heart sank. Lady Margaret took her by the hand and she left the shadow of that dark and dismal house. Stark in black, her face bewildered and sad, March stood in an upper story window with her hand raised in farewell. Rebecah returned the gesture as the coachman cracked his whip above the horse’s ears.
CHAPTER 23
Plymouth brimmed with ships loaded with riches brought in from the far reaches of the Empire. The air smelled of tea and spices from the Orient, tobacco and cotton from the southern Colonies, exotic fruits and sugarcane from the islands. Along the narrow streets, merchants hawked their wares, mingled busy housewives and servants. Shopkeepers opened their shops in hopes of a brisk day of business. Gentlemen huddled at a street corner to buy a newspaper describing America’s latest treason.
A sooty palm pushed through the window. “Please, milady, a coin. Please.” A woman ran alongside the coach through mud and horse dung. Stringy black hair fell out from beneath a dingy mobcap. Over her shoulders lay a tattered wool shawl. Her eyes were glazed with hopelessness.
Lady Margaret ordered the driver to stop. She feared the coach wheels might do harm. “Have you no work?”
“No, milady.”
Tears flooded the woman’s sunken eyes. Behind the dirty face may have been youth and possibly beauty. But the green eyes were lonely and desperate.
“You’re speaking the truth and not lying in order to get money?” Lady Margaret said.
The beggar woman’s eyes widened. “I’m not lying, milady. No one will hire a beggar. My husband left me— went to sea and has never come back. I lost the babe I carried and I’ve been sick ever since.”
“In heart as well as body, I imagine. Get to a doctor, you understand? This should take care of it.” Lady Margaret placed two coins in the tattered woman’s hand. “When you’ve recovered, go to the Methodists meeting here, and tell them Lady Margaret Nash sent you.”
“I wish to help as well.” Rebecah handed the woman the last coin she had in her reticule. “Please do as Lady Margaret has told you.”
The woman nodded and the coach moved on.
Lady Margaret eased back against the cushion. “I wish I could help them all. But, we shall have the poor with us always, so said the Lord Jesus.”
Rebecah looked out at the crowded street. Deep down, she was angry with the world, angry with John Nash, angry with Samuel Brent, angry wit
h her dead father. She looked over at the woman who had taken her under her wing and wished she could be more like her.
The road lay dappled with sunshine. Along the wayside were houses of black beams and plasterwork. Some were red brick with varnished doorways, thatched roofs and high gables.
Soon the coach halted and they were in front of Lavinia’s house—a modest dwelling compared to Endfield. Rebecah admired the stone graced with ivy, the sun streaked windows, and boughs of wisteria over the door. It was a warm and inviting home.
After the coachman alighted from his seat and stretched his legs, he helped the ladies out. Rebecah noticed a black horse tethered to a post. It looked over at her and blew out its nostrils.
“It seems another guest has arrived.” Rebecah walked with Lady Margaret over the flagstones. Her hand held down her hat against the breeze. “Will we be intruding?”
“Intruding? Not at all. We are expected.”
The door swung wide and Lavinia hurried out with her hands stretched forward. “Rebecah! Oh, Rebecah, you’ve come!”
A whirl of laugher followed their embrace. The coach rolled away, and the ladies entered the foyer.
Lavinia kissed Lady Margaret’s cheek. “I’m so glad to see you both. Was your journey tolerable?”
“As tolerable as may be.”
“Please, come inside and lay aside your hats. I shall have tea brought in.” She summoned her maid, a petite girl of sixteen, with hair and eyes as brown as the wood floor she stood on.
In the sitting room, Rebecah untied her blue hat strings and laid the hat upon a chair. The room was comfortably decorated and the walls were painted a soft yellow. It had a large bay window facing the garden and a white marble fireplace.
Lady Margaret stood by the door. “Do you have a room where I might lie down a while?”
“We’ve a comfortable room upstairs.” Lavinia looked concerned. “Are you alright, my lady?”
“The journey was long and I’m weary. A rest will do me good.”
Lady Margaret left with Lavinia’s serving girl, and the two cousins sat alone in the yellow room. They drank cold tea and Lavinia indulged in the scones and cream.
“Did you know I shall have a Christmas baby? I hardly know where to begin. We’ve so much to talk about.”
Rebecah smiled. “How wonderful, Lavinia. I’m so happy for you and David.”
“I was saddened to hear how father treated you. I don’t understand him.”
“Do you remember the last time we spoke to each other?”
“How can I forget? If it were not for you, I may have lost my courage.”
“Your courage has never been lacking, cousin.”
“Thank you for saying so. I did the right thing. But it has broken my heart my father has disowned me.”
“He will come around in time. Perhaps when the baby is born and he learns he has a grandchild his heart will change.”
“I pray for him every night,” Lavinia said.
“I try. Sometimes it is hard.”
Lavinia set her teacup aside. “I’m glad you did not go through with it with Lanley. I hoped you would not marry him out of a broken heart. He would have made you very unhappy.”
“Yes, I believe he would have, and I him. Lanley has forgiven me, I think. For him there are other choices.”
“Lanley is a good man at heart.”
“Indeed that is so.”
“But Jack is a better man.”
Rebecah stared at the floor, stung at the mention of his name. “It would not be a good idea for us to discuss John Nash.”
“Still, I’m troubled by the change in you, cousin. Would it bother you if I told you what I plan to name my baby?”
The sparkle returned to Rebecah’s eyes. Speaking of the baby would be a better topic.
“Not in the least. I want to hear.”
“Tell me it will not anger you.”
“Why would it?”
“You may not like it. So you must understand my reasons. If it’s a boy, he will be called David John. The first name is after his father of course and the middle name John after John Nash. You know I was close to him growing up. He was like a brother to me—still is.”
“And what if you have a girl?”
“Kathryn for my mother. Grace for David’s grandmother. Do you know she is still living? She is ninety and two. We visit her once a month.”
“It is kind of you.”
“I adore her. We want our baby to bring her joy in the time she has left. It’s so important people have joy in their old age.”
“That is true.”
“I wish you joy, cousin.”
“I have all the joy I need seeing you again.”
“What are your plans, now that you’re not married and have left Endfield?”
Rebecah put the rest of her cake on the china plate. “I plan to find a position as a governess.”
Lavinia’s eyes enlarged. “Well, at least you don’t desire to be a teacher sequestered away into spinsterhood. A wealthy family with a fine house is much better. But now that you are with me for a time, perhaps your ambition will change.”
“I know what you’re leading to, Lavinia.”
“I cannot help it, cousin. I can see you’re still in love with Jack.”
“Perhaps you are seeing what you only wish to see. Perhaps you are wrong.”
“Can you deny your feelings?”
Rebecah sighed. “I don’t love him enough to ruin my life and betray the memory of my father.”
“He was good to you and loved you.”
“He loved me enough to lie?”
“Lie? I see no lie. He told you the truth as he knows it to be. Do you think from the time of their meeting, to the time of your father’s departure for England, then the voyage home, he would have survived as long as he did?”
Rebecah clasped her hands. “Why would my father warn his brother to keep Jack away from me if there wasn’t a good reason?”
Lavinia took Rebecah by the shoulders. “I know I said it before and it bears repeating. Write to Sir Richard’s physician.”
Sweeping her skirts forward, Rebecah stood. “I don’t know what to believe or what to do.”
“Then talk to me, Rebecah. I’ll listen, and perhaps together we can find answers.”
Her eyes resigned to the tears she fought. They pooled, slid down her cheeks. She brushed them away and hardened herself against them.
“You’re right. We loved each other, but I couldn’t have gone through with marrying him.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t you see? It would’ve been the worst way to begin. I pushed the matter of love to the back of my mind and have hurt myself by doing so. What happened showed me what kind of woman I am.” She turned back with her fists at her sides. “I’m suspicious, bitter, and unforgiving.”
“You’re none of those things,” Lavinia said.
“It’s true. I’ve grown to hate myself for what I feel. And the words in that letter? I’ve mulled over them time and time again. I thought about what you and Lady Margaret said. How could my father have survived such an infection for weeks and weeks? I need to find Dr. Harvey. ”
Lavinia went to her cousin with an embrace. “It’s alright. You must have a cry. You’re safe here.”
“I shall die loving him. He thinks I hate him and now his love for me is dead and he is gone. Oh, how he must despise me.”
“Somehow it must be mended.”
Rebecah pushed back her hair and wiped her eyes dry. “I’m glad I came to you. I shall find a great deal of healing in your house.”
“A heavy burden was given you. You carried it as best you can. Now you must let God carry it for you.”
CHAPTER 24
Shortly after daybreak, Nash woke to a growl beneath his window. He rose, looked into the violet haze of dawn, and saw Black Hawk standing there with his arms folded across his chest, his face lifted proudly. Nash raised his hand, and went to dress.
When he opened the door, the cub rolled in the grass. “Your cub is your shadow, my brother. He too is hungry.”
Black Hawk frowned. “I have not come to beg. I never hunger for I am a great hunter. I have given a turkey to the dark-faced man.”
“Not an easy catch in these woods. Joab and I are grateful. You must feast with us.”
Black Hawk glanced up at the window. For a moment his eyes looked as though they admired the glass panes, then his brow rumpled.
“I do not understand why the white man sleeps in a high place with walls all around and a roof above him. The ground is softer and surer.”
Nash too looked up. “I see what you mean. Well, I shall be sleeping under the stars tonight and the forest will wall me in.”
He went to the troth on the side of the house and doused himself with rainwater. Black Hawk watched the white man’s ways, and Nash saw him turn his eyes toward the towering hills. He pointed to a steep smooth mountain.
“Upon that ridge I met Logan’s messenger. Logan asks for you. He sits within his lodge where he has had a dream. He fears it and does not eat meat for a long season. Logan has laid aside the peace pipe.”
Nash wiped his face with his hands. Massacre disrupted his quiet and peaceful soul.
“I know why he has done this, Black Hawk. I have heard about his father, wife, and sister. Even the most peaceful of men would desire revenge.”
Black Hawk crouched to hold his cub. “It is true, Logan is restless and angry. You must come and speak to him, before the war drums beat louder.”
It was hard to leave Laurel Hill, but he had to. His horse pawed the grass, shook its head, and tossed its great black mane into the wind as he pulled up onto his back.
Black Hawk ran his hand down Meteor’s neck. “He is wild and his eyes blaze with fire.”
“That’s why I chose him. I’ll let you ride him during our journey, Black Hawk. I can tell you like him.”
“I need no horse, my brother.” It was true, for his feet were fleet as a buck’s.
Turning in the saddle, Nash called back to the old man who stood near the doorpost of the house. “Only the Lord knows how long I’ll be gone, Joab. If you need help of any kind, Mr. Boyd is the man to see.”