Her Honorable Enemy

by Mary Davis

Once the door closed, Charles came around his desk. “Lindley, what are you doing here? You just walked straight into our camp.”

  The boy shrugged. “I didn’t think anyone was gonna hurt me. No one wants to go to war. Not really.”

  “So why have you come? How is your sister? Did she get my invitation? Was your father upset? Well, say something.”

  “I can’t with all your questions.”

  “I’m sorry. First, how is Rachel?”

  “Fine. And no, she didn’t get your invitation but Papa did, and he’s really, really, really mad. He won’t let Rachel leave the house.”

  “He’s holding her a prisoner in her own home?”

  “Well, not exactly a prisoner. He doesn’t have her tied up or locked in her room or nothing. He said she can’t leave the house, and she’s obeying him. But he didn’t say nothing about me staying home.”

  Charles wanted to smile. The boy was just like Rachel. As long as their father didn’t directly tell them not to do something, they weren’t directly disobeying him.

  Lindley continued. “She wants to leave. Real bad.”

  “Is that why you came? To tell me that?”

  “Naw.” He reached inside his coat, pulled out two envelopes and handed them to Charles. “She wrote this one the night you came with the invitation and this one yesterday.”

  Letters from Rachel. He wanted to hug them to himself as she had done with his short note he’d left with the books.

  He opened the first one, three and a half pages. He quickly skimmed it. The other letter was almost two full pages. “I would like to pen a reply. Can you stay a bit?”

  “Sure.”

  Charles opened his door. “Coats. Would you get the boy a cup of tea and some biscuits?”

  Lindley scrunched up his face. “I don’t want no biscuits.”

  He smiled at the boy. “What we call biscuits, you would call cookies.”

  The boy brightened. “Then I’ll have two.”

  Charles turned back to Coats and held up four fingers. “And entertain him out here for a bit? His name is Lindley.”

  “Of course, sir.” Coats directed Lindley away.

  “Make sure the captain doesn’t see him.”

  Coats turned back. “He left camp at dawn. Won’t be back until lunch.”

  Charles nodded, closing his door all but two inches. He wanted some privacy but also wanted to hear if anything erupted out in the main room. He sat at his desk and unfolded the first letter.

  My dearest Charles,

  He read the opening salutation three times and the my dearest a couple more.

  Then he continued with the body of the letter, which started with a quotation from Romeo and Juliet.

  My only love sprung from my only hate!

  Too early seen unknown, and known too late!

  Prodigious birth of love it is to me,

  That I must love a loathed enemy.

  It rankled him that she used a quotation with the word enemy in it, but felt joy that she loved him.

  She went on for the rest of the first page and all of the second about how her father was being unfair and was closed-minded. How, if he would just listen to reason, this whole romance wouldn’t be a problem. On the next page she told Charles that she loved him, and if her father would meet him, he would see that Charles was a good man.

  Charles liked that Rachel thought of him so highly. He never would have imagined.

  The last half of a page conveyed her hope that Charles could find a way to get through to her father.

  She was putting her faith in him to resolve their situation. Lord, help me find a way.

  Then she signed it.

  My heart belongs to you, my love.

  Rachel

  He reread her closing: My heart belongs to you, my love.

  He may once have thought her of a silly, sentimental bent with an extra seasoning of the dramatic, but now he cherished her theatrical, romantic flare. She wasn’t vacuous. She was passionate.

  Her next letter also began with a quotation from Romeo and Juliet.

  ’Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

  Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

  What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,

  Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

  Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

  What’s in a name? That which we call a rose

  By any other name would smell as sweet;

  So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,

  Retain that dear perfection which he owes

  Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

  And for that name which is no part of thee

  Take all myself.

  If it were as easy as changing his name, Charles would in a heartbeat. But the name Thompson was English by origin. At least Thompson wasn’t an O’Leary or O’Malley or other Irish name. That could make his family’s acceptance of her much harder.

  Rachel continued the letter about her love for him and her plight. She was growing restless in the walls of her house. She sounded a whit desperate.

  Then she closed with another Romeo and Juliet quotation.

  Two households, both alike in dignity,

  In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

  From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

  Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

  From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

  A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;

  Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

  Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.

  When he had first met Rachel, he couldn’t get her to speak until she started reciting this quotation. He had enjoyed tossing the lines back and forth with her like a game of lawn tennis. Now the quotation held so much more meaning. How similar Romeo and Juliet’s plight was to his and Rachel’s. Applied to real life, the quotation was dark and foreboding. This was no game.

  Why did she always quote Romeo and Juliet? That story didn’t end well. He needed to make sure their own story had a happy ending. His arms ached to enfold her safely in them. He pulled out a sheet of paper, dipped his pen in the inkwell and touched the tip to paper. He, too, began his letter with a quotation from her favorite play.

  My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

  My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

  The more I have, for both are infinite.

  He prayed that would encourage her. Help her cling to the hope of a favorable conclusion. Then he asked her to hold out hope for them. Though he didn’t have a plan at the ready, he believed God had brought them together and He would give him the solution. He was of the conviction that all would work out for them.

  Now that they were no longer sneaking around and he hadn’t seen her in over a week, he was more convinced than ever that they would be together at some point. He hoped it would be sooner rather than later. The Lord had given him a peace about it. He wished he knew what the Almighty had planned.

  Rachel simply needed to trust the Lord for their future. The Lord would hold them up and strengthen them.

  He left all his doubts out of the letter and just conveyed positivity and hope. Then he ended with another quotation, Romans 15:13:

  Now may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.

  Rachel ached to read Charles’s letter but hadn’t dared until now, well after supper. Lindley had slipped it to her when he arrived home from school. She had taken a lantern out to the barn. She sat in the loft with Mariposa and her kittens frolicking.

  My dearest Rachel,

  My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

  My lov
e as deep; the more I give to thee,

  The more I have, for both are infinite.

  She loved that quotation, in which Romeo professed the depth of his love. She had dreamed of having a man love her as Romeo had loved Juliet but knew that wasn’t likely, and here she had it.

  She read on.

  Chapter 16

  Charles rode on horseback into American Camp at the south end of the island.

  One of the enlisted men approached him and took hold of the horse’s halter. “Good day, sir. What can I do for you?”

  Charles wasn’t this soldier’s superior, so the soldier needn’t call him sir. But he appreciated the respect even from the opposition. He swung down and handed the reins to the man. The brittle winter grass crunched beneath his feet. “I’ve come to see...” he paused to remember the American pronunciation “...Lieutenant Bishop.”

  The man pointed across the compound. “He’s supervising target practice.”

  “Thank you. Would you see that my horse gets watered?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Charles strode off in the direction of his newfound friend and the echo of gunfire. As he came over the rise, he saw Bishop right off, and the noncommissioned officer nearest the lieutenant saw Charles. The NCO looked as though he could be Sergeant Hicks, whom Charles had seen at Rachel’s. He spoke to the lieutenant.

  Bishop turned and waved, said something to the NCO and headed toward Charles across the dry grass. Charles waited where he was out of respect for his opponent’s military strategy. Spying was not the purpose of his visit and could hamper his objective.

  Bishop smiled and held out his hand. “Charles, so good to see you.”

  Charles shook his friend’s hand. It was strange to consider an officer in the rival’s military a friend. Who could ever have imagined? If they had been on the same side in this war, they would have saluted one another. “I hope those targets aren’t supposed to be Englishmen.”

  Bishop shrugged. “They are whomever the enemy happens to be.”

  Charles made a show of swallowing hard and pulling at his collar with one finger.

  Bishop chuckled. “What brings you so far south, my friend?”

  “I have a little problem I’m hoping you can assist me with.”

  “It depends on the problem. If you want me to hand over the San Juan Islands to the English, I’m afraid I don’t carry the rank for that. Not that I would, even if I had the authority.”

  Suddenly, Charles wasn’t in a hurry for the land possession dispute to be resolved. For when it was, either he or Rachel would be leaving the island. He doubted Rachel’s father would stay under British rule, and Charles certainly couldn’t stay if the United States was granted possession. “Nothing so exotic. I need to speak to an American. I think the conversation will go more smoothly if another American is present. Preferably a military officer.”

  “To whom do you need to speak?”

  “Warren Thompson.”

  Bishop let out a long whistle. “You don’t ask for anything simple. It might be easier to hand over the islands.”

  “Then you know Mr. Thompson? You can take me to speak with him?”

  “Did you not hear his first name when you said it? Warren. He is very patriotic. What do you need to talk to him about?”

  Charles didn’t want to say but knew Bishop would find out eventually when Charles spoke to Mr. Thompson. And it would be only fair to the lieutenant to let him know what he was getting himself into. “His daughter.”

  Bishop took a step back. “You’re the one?”

  “The one what?”

  “Sergeant Hicks was at the Thompsons’ place. He said an English officer came and delivered an invitation to your annual Christmas party. We all thought that was a bold move. Stupid, but bold. You’re lucky the sergeant was there. Are you trying to ignite this war? Or get yourself shot?”

  “Is the man really as bad as all that?”

  “No, Mr. Thompson is a good man. He’s just passionate about his belief that these islands are the territory of the United States of America, and the English don’t belong here. He will try to use your visit as leverage to insist we remove the English military from the islands.”

  “He doesn’t have the power to do that, does he?”

  “No, but he will speak to Captain Pickett. And in turn, Pickett will speak to your captain.”

  “So this ends badly?”

  “Only if Thompson talks to you at all.”

  “So is there no hope of him speaking with me?”

  “He doesn’t need to know you were the one at his home. You can just forget his daughter and let sleeping dogs lie.”

  “I cannot forget her. I could try, but even after a lifetime, she would still be entwined in my heart.”

  “Is she really worth poking a stick into a hornets’ nest for?”

  “Why does it have to be a hornets’ nest? Why can it not be two men having a peaceful conversation?”

  “Because you are English, and Thompson has devoted his life to seeing these islands officially becoming the property of the United States.”

  “I have to try. It’ll be my funeral.”

  Lieutenant Bishop lowered his head. “It’ll be all of ours.”

  “So, you’ll help me.”

  “Tell me why it is so important that you would risk all this?”

  Charles didn’t know what else to say, so he spoke the simple truth. “I love her.”

  Bishop smiled. “There is no fool like a fool in love.”

  “I’m afraid I might be the court jester of fools.”

  “Let’s hope not. Let’s hope Thompson has at least one romantic bone in his patriotic body.”

  “Or cherishes his daughter’s happiness?”

  Bishop shook his head. “You have to do exactly as I say.”

  “I will.”

  “Do you know where the Belle Vue Sheep Farm is?”

  “That’s owned by the British Hudson’s Bay Company.”

  “So you do know it? Meet me at the crossroads leading to it.”

  “Why there?”

  “Thompson is the island land commissioner. He’s been nagging our captain for years to allow him to do some surveying out there. Pickett has been reluctant to grant his request. And Thompson has honored that and stayed away.”

  “I don’t believe Bazalgette would have any objections.”

  “That is beside the point. My commander doesn’t want to owe your commander a favor.”

  So pride was on the line. “This will be a trade of favors.”

  Bishop nodded.

  “I’ll swing by the farm and let them know we’ll be coming tomorrow.”

  * * *

  The next day, with dark clouds approaching from the west, Charles sat upon his horse at the crossroads, awaiting the arrival of Bishop and Rachel’s father, already more than half an hour late. Maybe the lieutenant couldn’t persuade Mr. Thompson to come.

  How much longer should he wait before this was futile? If Bishop had been completely unsuccessful, he would have come to inform him so. Charles would just have to bide his time.

  He galloped his mount up the road in the direction from which he anticipated they would arrive but saw no signs of them. He headed back to the crossroads. The lieutenant and Rachel’s father sat upon their own horses, waiting.

  It did not look good for him to be the one who was late, though he hadn’t been, but that was the way it would appear to Mr. Thompson. He stopped his horse next to Bishop’s. Charles was about to explain why he was absent when they arrived, when Mr. Thompson shook his head.

  It would be best to let Mr. Thompson think what he may. “Excuse my tardiness. Were you waiting long?”

  “We just ar
rived.” Bishop turned to Rachel’s father. “Mr. Thompson, this is Lieutenant Young. He will be our escort today. Lieutenant, may I present Warren Thompson, land commissioner and surveyor.”

  Charles tipped his hat. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “I won’t lie. I’m not pleased about this meeting, but I do appreciate you getting me on the Belle Vue Farm.” He pointed in the direction of the farm. “Can we get on with this?”

  Bishop nodded, and Mr. Thompson headed off down the road.

  Charles took a deep breath. “Is it just my uniform or did you tell him why I’m here?”

  “Full disclosure, my man. Full disclosure. Thompson is not a man it would be wise to have a hidden agenda with or spring your intentions on at the last minute.” Bishop goaded his horse into motion.

  Charles kicked his horse and caught up. “So he gets what he wants, and I have to hope he will keep up his end of the bargain?”

  “Something like that. But Thompson is a man of his word.”

  “You’re sure about that?”

  “If he weren’t, he wouldn’t need our escort today. He would already have surveyed this area against Captain Pickett’s edict.”

  This could well be a very long day with no guarantees that Charles would get what he desired out of the bargain. He would need to be patient. Lord, grant me patience. And please let Rachel’s father listen to my petition.

  Mr. Thompson stopped several times on the road heading into the farm. He pulled out his compass and other instruments and wrote figures on paper. During the course of the trip, he also took a large sheet of paper from a portfolio and sketched a map of the area.

  Charles looked over his shoulder. “Very good. You depict the geological features quite accurately. I can see why you’re a surveyor.” He shifted his gaze from the map to Mr. Thompson’s glaring face.