by Jody Hedlund
The soldier trotted directly toward her, his cloak flapping in the wind behind him. When he lifted the brim of his cocked hat and nodded at her, Susanna’s breath swooshed.
“Sergeant Frazel.” She greeted the young man with a return nod.
He reined his horse next to the wagon and glanced toward the cottage, where Mother was staring at him, her face pale and her hand fluttering above her chest.
“Your kitchen slave said I might find you visiting among the parish,” the sergeant said, giving Mother a friendly nod before leaning toward Susanna. The usual kindness in his eyes was dim, obscured by a cloud of anxiousness.
“I haven’t had the chance yet to thank you,” she said.
“No thanks needed.”
“If not for your warning . . .”
“That’s why I’ve sought you out again.” He lowered his voice. “I have reason to believe the lieutenant is getting close to discovering the new hiding place.”
Susanna swallowed the sudden fear that clogged her throat. She should have known the lull of peace was too good to be true. “How did he learn of it?”
Sergeant Frazel looked around before leaning closer. “I overheard a man giving the lieutenant information this morning. The man said he has reason to believe a runaway is being sheltered in Braintree. And he arranged a meeting with the lieutenant for tomorrow to hand the girl over to him.”
“Who would divulge such information? And why?”
“I’ve never seen the man before.”
Susanna’s mind spun with the implications of the sergeant’s news. She’d hoped Dotty would be safe in Grandmother Eve’s house until Ben could find a way to bring about justice for her. But obviously they hadn’t kept her whereabouts as secret as they’d hoped.
With all the guests coming in and out of Mount Wollaston, someone had apparently discovered she was there.
The sergeant’s expression was grave.
“What do you suggest I do?”
“I think you should relocate her somewhere else as soon as possible.”
“But where?”
“I wish I knew.” Sergeant Frazel glanced at Mother and the widow who were staring at him with narrowed, angry eyes. “In fact, I wish I knew how to help you more.”
“You’ve already done so much—”
“It’s not enough to make up for the other girls.” His whisper was harsh and his pale face tight. A nightmare of anguish flashed through his eyes, and he shuddered as if haunted by visions he couldn’t forget.
“Why?” The question slipped from Susanna’s lips before she could stop it. “Why does the lieutenant do it?”
“I’ve heard rumors thieves broke into his home in London and murdered his young daughter and wife several years ago.”
“That’s terrible.” Susanna couldn’t begin to imagine the horror of losing a family to murder. “But why then is he murdering others? Why wouldn’t he be eradicating crime instead?”
“I suppose he thinks he is. He claims he’s getting rid of the rogues, misfits, criminals, and poor rabble who have nothing better to do than break the law.”
“But he’s taken his efforts beyond the scope of decency.”
“I realize that quite clearly now. In fact, I realize I’ve been mistaken in my beliefs about many things when it comes to you colonists.”
Susanna couldn’t find the words to respond to his confession.
“Now that I’ve been here for these past months,” the sergeant continued, “I can’t help but envy your freedom here on this side of the ocean.”
“Freedom?” Did they really have more freedom? Was that what Ben was so concerned about?
Sergeant Frazel’s voice dropped to a whisper again. “I was pressed into the army, and even though I’ve resigned myself to my fate, there are times when I see the open land and the space here, and I wish I could have a piece of it for myself.”
“Susanna Smith,” Mother called, starting toward her with choppy steps. “Please cease conversing with that soldier.”
“You’d better go,” Susanna said.
Sergeant Frazel had already pulled his hat low. He kicked his mount and spurred it forward.
“I don’t want you speaking with the king’s soldiers,” Mother said when she reached the wagon. She stared after Sergeant Frazel’s retreating back, bitterness adding wrinkles to her features. After all the destruction to the parsonage, Mother’s loyalties to the Crown had been severely tested. And now Susanna wasn’t sure the king would ever be able to regain Mother’s affection.
“What did he want?” Mother asked as she climbed into the wagon. “Was he leveling more accusations at us?”
Susanna hesitated. Ought she to finally confess to Mother her activities regarding Dotty?
“He’s friendly enough,” she said, trying to find the words to inform Mother without jeopardizing Sergeant Frazel. She certainly didn’t want Lieutenant Wolfe to find out his trusted advisor was giving her information about his plans.
“I don’t want you fraternizing with any of the soldiers again.” Mother situated her petticoats on the bench. “The best course of action is to refrain from any involvement whatsoever with the soldiers and to keep to ourselves.”
“But what if we come across someone who needs our help—someone we wouldn’t normally assist?”
“Providence has given us enough people to help right here in our own neighborhood.” Mother straightened her shoulders and stared ahead, as though they had nothing more to discuss on the matter.
Several more snowflakes drifted in front of Susanna. They flittered onto the horse’s flank, melting at the contact with the beast’s warm flesh.
She couldn’t disagree with Mother. There were certainly enough poor women in Weymouth who needed their compassion. But how could they turn away from injustice and problems that were happening elsewhere? Surely God didn’t want them to stay insulated in their safe little parish and ignore others who might need their help as well.
They could go on doing what they always had, keep to themselves and attempt to avoid danger. That would indeed be the safest course of action.
But should she refrain from doing the right thing merely because she was afraid of what might happen as a result?
During the short ride home, Susanna scrambled to find an excuse to travel to Mount Wollaston and to Dotty. She prayed if God truly wanted her to continue helping Dotty, that He would show her how and provide a new hiding place.
When they rumbled into the parsonage yard, Susanna’s heart did an involuntary flip at the sight of a horse tied to the oak in front of the house.
If only it was Ben’s. Maybe he would be able to help her devise a plan for helping Dotty.
A closer examination of the gelding blanketed her with a strange sense of disappointment. The horse was bigger and the saddle much finer than Ben’s.
She climbed down from the wagon and handed the reins to the local boy they’d hired to replace Tom until he recuperated.
Why had she believed Ben would come calling again? The truth was, he’d never want to see her again. Not after the reception he’d received during his last visit.
A familiar ache squeezed her heart, the same ache that had radiated within her since the day Ben had walked out the door of the parsonage and out of her life.
Over the past week she’d composed a dozen letters to him in her head. All of them had started with the words I beg you to forgive me.
She couldn’t deny she’d come to care about Ben, that she didn’t want to lose the connection she had with him. But there was also something slightly terrifying about the thought of giving up everything and defying all she knew to be right in order to be with him.
If only she could put him out of her mind altogether . . .
With heavy footsteps, she followed Mother inside.
As she removed her cloak and hat, she could hear Elbridge in the parlor with Father, and a sense of despair pressed down upon her even more.
Susanna tried to
slip past Mother to the stairway, but Mother caught her arm and maneuvered her into the parlor at her side.
“Mr. Quincy, what a delightful surprise,” Mother said with a smile. “We’re so glad to see you. Aren’t we, Susanna?”
“Why, of course.” Susanna said what was expected of her. But her shoulders slumped at the thought of having to sit in the parlor with Elbridge and make small talk. She had much more important matters needing her attention—life-and-death matters.
Elbridge rose from the chair across from Father’s. He gave a slight bow. “Good day, ladies. You both look lovely.”
Mother’s smile inched higher. “I do hope you can stay for a day or two?”
“Thank you, Mrs. Smith. How can I refuse your kind invitation? While I have business to attend on the morrow, I could be easily persuaded to stay the night and leave early in the morning.”
Elbridge’s gaze came to rest upon Susanna with a possessiveness that was more intense than in the past. Now that Mary was successfully married, she had no doubt Mother had begun her earnest task of finding Susanna a suitable match.
And it appeared Elbridge was her first choice. She had likely invited Elbridge today for the specific purpose of discussing courtship.
Frustration wound around Susanna, and she had the overwhelming urge to stomp her foot at her mother and tell her no. No, she wasn’t ready to court Elbridge—or anyone—not so soon after turning away Ben, not when her heart was still aching.
She wanted to tell Mother to wipe the knowing smile from her face, that she wasn’t going to accept the proper way of doing things this time.
All her life she’d allowed Mother to guide and control her, to keep her within the bounds of propriety. Susanna had tried to accept the boundaries and to follow Mother’s example of how a lady should live and behave.
But she seemed to forever be swelling against the constraints, pushing the limits of what was acceptable, constantly longing for more. Part of Susanna wanted to swell until she broke free. But the other part clung to the security of the familiar.
Elbridge crossed the room toward her, took her hand, and lifted it to his lips. The warmth from his mouth and the wetness of his kiss against her cold skin elicited none of the anticipation and spark the merest of Ben’s touches brought.
She tried to push aside the sudden longing for Ben and focus instead on generating an affectionate reaction to her cousin. Surely she could create attraction if she worked hard enough. Surely someday she could learn to be content with the way of things for women like her.
As if sensing her lack of excitement, Elbridge retrieved a folded sheet of paper from his waistcoat. “I’ve come from Mount Wollaston and have a letter for you from your grandmother.”
“A letter from Grandmother Eve?”
Elbridge held out the letter.
As her fingers closed around it, he didn’t let go right away. Instead he forced her to lift her gaze to his. Something sharp in his eyes sent a shiver of unease through her.
She tugged the letter from his grip. “Thank you, Elbridge.”
If she didn’t know better, she’d almost guess he was silently rebuking her. But rebuking her for what?
She quickly broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The note was short and to the point, and her throat constricted with each word she read.
Ben’s father was dead, had passed away earlier in the week. Ben was in a state of grief that worried Grandmother Eve. Grandmother felt certain a visit from Susanna would cheer him and provide the dose of medicine he needed to revive from his state of melancholy. She was hosting a dinner that very evening with the hope of offering condolences, and she wanted Susanna to attend.
When Susanna finished the letter, she refolded it slowly. Apparently Grandmother Eve hadn’t yet heard about her rejection of Ben’s offer of courtship. If she had, she would know Susanna was the last person Ben desired for comfort.
Nevertheless, Sergeant Frazel’s warning clanged in her mind, growing louder with each passing moment. She needed to travel with all haste to Braintree to alert Grandmother Eve and Ben about Lieutenant Wolfe’s plans. The dinner would provide the perfect opportunity to discuss what else they might do to locate a new hiding spot for Dotty.
She appealed to her father, who was standing with his palms stretched toward the blazing fire. “Father, Grandmother Eve has invited me to dinner this evening. Perhaps Elbridge would be agreeable to escorting me.”
She turned to Elbridge and clasped his hands. “You’ll take me, won’t you, cousin?” She peered up at him with what she hoped was her most beguiling look.
“He’s only just ridden from Mount Wollaston,” Mother said, but her protest lacked conviction. “’Tisn’t fair of you to ask him to ride again so soon.”
“I don’t mind.” Elbridge enfolded Susanna’s hands within his. “I want to make Susanna happy in whatever way I can.”
She smiled up at him. “Thank you, Elbridge.”
“Anything for you.”
“You’re very kind, Elbridge,” her father said. “I’m sure it would lift Susanna’s spirits to spend time with her cheerful grandmother.”
Of course, her father wouldn’t mention Susanna’s melancholy ever since Ben’s disastrous visit, nor the fact that she’d had so little time to focus on reading or eavesdropping on William’s lessons. It wasn’t within Father’s nature to focus on the negative. But the gentleness in his eyes said he had noticed her languishing and wanted to give her a small gift in the visit to Grandmother’s.
“If Elbridge is agreeable,” Father continued, “then how can we say no?”
Mother gave a brief nod.
“Thank you, Father,” Susanna said quickly before Mother could change her mind. “And thank you, Elbridge. I shall go pack.” She spun away from him and made her way from the room before anyone could contradict her.
As she strode through the hallway, her pulse began to thump with an urgency that left her breathless.
She stopped at the door that opened to the closet under the stairs. She laid a trembling hand against the plank and shivered at the remembrance of her time alone in the closet with Ben . . . his hand caressing her neck, his breath against her lips, the tightness of his body so near hers.
She couldn’t deny how much she’d wanted to be with him then.
And she still did. She would at the very least pen him a letter and finally ask for his forgiveness.
No matter how dangerous he was, she couldn’t cut him out of her life. As much as she’d told herself she needed to stay away from him, she didn’t want to. Not now.
Perhaps never.
Chapter
20
The wind lashed Ben’s cloak, but he didn’t care. He kneeled next to the wall bordering the east pasture and restacked the fieldstone where the old ones had crumbled and fallen away.
His fingers had no feeling. Neither did his toes. But he fumbled with the stones and rubble anyway. At least now his limbs resembled his frozen, unfeeling heart.
Flakes of snow drifted around him, forming a layer over everything, but it wasn’t enough to brighten the lifeless gray stones or the wilted grass. The snow couldn’t bring life to anything—not to the barren field, the leafless trees edging the creek, or the farmhouse in the distance.
Ben couldn’t imagine the farm ever being beautiful and alive again. Not without his father.
He brushed a sleeve across his frozen cheek to wipe away a tear. But his face was dry, his tears gone. He’d already shed enough over the past several days since he’d buried his father, and he had nothing left inside of him.
Nothing but a deep, wretched ache.
Nevertheless, farm life had to continue. For now the farm belonged to him. His father had left him the house as well as forty acres.
Ben sat back on his heels and looked around at the property. He’d received ten acres of adjoining land and then thirty of orchard, pasture, woodland, and swamp.
He was finally a freeholder. He owned land f
ree and clear. Now he could vote or act as a representative in the legislature. And he would begin to earn the respect of many who looked down upon poor, landless men.
Why did it take land and money to earn respect anyway? Why couldn’t men respect him for his merits and his accomplishments rather than his status?
His father’s words wafted in the wind. “There is more than one way to earn the approval of your peers. And often the best way is through strength of character.”
Ben bowed his head. The wind whipped at him again, sending scourging lashes down the back of his cloak.
Maybe he needed to earn the respect of his peers the way his father had, by improving his character rather than status. His father had been a good man, the most honest man he’d ever known.
If not for his father’s persuasion, he might not have gone on with his schooling, especially when the teacher at the local Braintree school had paid him no attention, but had in fact drained the love of learning out of him with his cruelty.
He’d come home from school one day and declared to his father that he didn’t want to go back, that he only wished to be a farmer. But his father had persuaded him to continue with his education and had even enrolled him in a private school where the new schoolmaster treated him kindly and spurred him to study in earnest.
He owed much to his father. . . .
The distant plod of hooves brought Ben’s head up, and he exhaled a weary sigh. He peered down the country road to the advancing forms of two people on horseback.
If they were coming to visit him, he knew he ought to shout out a warning for them to steer far clear of his humble Braintree home. The influenza had struck his mother as well. In fact, she’d been too ill to leave her bed when they’d buried his father.
With a grunt, Ben pushed himself to his feet, unbending his frozen limbs.
Fortunately, under the gentle hands of his brother’s wife, his mother was recovering. Even so, the illness was spreading. Earlier in the day he’d heard that several other older men of the community had succumbed to death.
This was not the time for anyone to be out visiting.