by Mary Davis
Both men knew the power Mr. Thompson had at that moment.
Charles resisted the urge to beg for his life. Lord, please let him make the right decision.
Mr. Thompson disappeared.
Charles closed his eyes. Lord, don’t let him leave me down here. Being responsible for the death of another was not something he wished for the man. And Rachel would look at her father differently for the rest of her life.
The rope hit his arm. He opened his eyes and grabbed it. He quickly tied it around himself before the man changed his mind. Would he help pull him up? Or had he felt he’d done his duty by simply throwing the rope down?
“Ready?”
Charles looked up to see Mr. Thompson. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Thompson disappeared, and the rope tightened.
Charles scrambled over the roots and climbed his way up the cliff. Near the top, he lost his footing and slipped, dangling at the mercy of his benefactor. Regaining his grip, he finished clawing his way up and over the edge. He rolled onto his back, grateful he wasn’t going to have to spend the night over a cliff in the rain and wind. The rope pressed into his back. Mr. Thompson also sat back from the exertion.
Rachel looked at him but rushed to her father. “Are you all right, Papa?”
Had the man been hurt?
Mr. Thompson pushed himself up. “I’m fine.”
Charles said, “Thank you, sir, for pulling me up.”
Mr. Thompson stared at Charles a moment and then said to Rachel, “We need to get your brother home.”
Charles quickly freed himself from the rope. “Our camp is closer. We should take him there. We have a doctor who can see to his needs.”
Mr. Thompson seemed to weigh his options.
“We need to get him warm as soon as possible, sir.” Charles hoped the man wasn’t too proud to see reason.
Rachel helped Lindley to his feet. She had put the extra coat on him. “Please, Papa.”
Lindley’s legs buckled, unable to hold him up.
Mr. Thompson put his arm around his son and reached his other under the boy’s legs to carry him. But he couldn’t get the boy off the ground. He winced.
Rachel said, “Papa hurt his arm.”
“I’m fine.” The older man grimaced.
Charles put his arms out to carry the boy. “Please, sir. Let me.”
Mr. Thompson nodded.
Charles scooped Lindley up. “Will you let me take him to our camp for treatment?”
He nodded again.
Charles didn’t hesitate and hurried for camp, with Rachel and Mr. Thompson following. He slid most of the way down the muddy hill into camp and rushed across the parade ground to the infirmary.
The doctor greeted them. “What happened?”
“He fell over a cliff and landed on an outgrowing tree. He was there for a while, so he’s cold.”
“Put him on the bed closest to the stove.”
Charles did and shucked off his own coat, letting it fall to the floor.
“Help me get him out of these wet clothes,” the doctor ordered him.
Charles and the medical assistant made short work of the job. Lindley’s skin was so cold. The assistant covered the boy with a warm blanket. The doctor quickly determined that Lindley didn’t have any broken bones and was just scraped up, bruised and cold. Now the important thing was to get him warm.
Rachel took one of Lindley’s muddy hands and rubbed it between hers to warm it. Mr. Thompson did the same with the other. Charles unbuttoned the middle of his shirt and tucked one of Lindley’s feet on the warmth of his stomach. He gasped, startled at the temperature difference. He rubbed heat into the calf. The assistant did the same with the other foot. He seemed more prepared for the cold foot on his skin.
Charles gazed at Rachel, and she looked back at him. He wanted to go to her and hold her. He wanted to talk with her, but knew he must restrain himself with Mr. Thompson present.
The doctor peered at Charles. “Is that just mud on your face, or do I need to examine you, too?”
“Just mud.” He must look a sight. “But Mr. Thompson hurt his arm.”
Mr. Thompson shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Rachel said.
The doctor glared. “I’ll be the judge of your wellness.”
Soon, the doctor had Mr. Thompson’s arm in a sling for a sprained shoulder. Probably from when Charles had slipped climbing up.
Captain Bazalgette came in and spoke to the doctor in hushed tones. Satisfied, he left again. Charles heard three gunshots in succession, the signal to end the search so the men would return.
The doctor came over and spoke to Mr. Thompson. “The commander is sending someone to your home to inform the rest of your family that the boy has been found and that you all are safe.”
“Thank you,” Mr. Thompson said.
Soon Lindley’s eyes opened. “I’m hungry.”
Rachel giggled and kissed her brother’s forehead.
Charles could hear audible sighs from everyone in the room.
The assistant winked. “I’ll see what I can rustle up.”
The doctor talked Mr. Thompson into staying the night for his son’s sake. Rachel and her father slept in the infirmary with Lindley. Charles knew that accepting medical help for his son and staying at the camp were hard for the man, considering how he felt about the English. He was a proud man, but not so proud that he would risk his son’s life.
Chapter 19
The rain had stopped during the night, but the morning dawned to a thick fog that hugged the ground. Mr. Thompson could not be persuaded to wait until the fog burned off. So Charles hitched a wagon and put several blankets in the back. Rachel came out of the infirmary with her father and brother.
Charles hadn’t gotten a moment to talk to her alone since finding her brother dangling below the cliff. He figured that by keeping his distance, he was honoring Mr. Thompson’s edict to stay away from his daughter. He had missed her, and his heart ached that he had to part from her without spending any time with her. If only he could convince Mr. Thompson to give him a chance.
Charles jumped down from the wagon. “Let me help with Lindley.”
Mr. Thompson narrowed his eyes. “I’ve got him.” The man would have walked home if his son had the strength. Charles suspected that Lindley had the strength but didn’t want to walk. The boy had recovered quickly.
Rachel gave Charles a sympathetic, wan smile.
Charles would try again. “Would you like to ride up on the seat with me, sir?”
“Thank you, but I’ll sit in the back with my children.” His words were direct to let Charles know he needn’t bother asking Rachel to sit with him. At least he’d said thank you.
Once everyone was aboard, Charles snapped the reins, and the wagon lunged forward. This was going to be a long trip with Mr. Thompson glaring daggers at his back. Well, Charles assumed the man would be glaring at him. But the ride would probably be just as uncomfortable for Mr. Thompson.
Charles drove up to the house and halted the horse. He jumped down to help Rachel and her family out of the back, but they already had Lindley almost on his feet.
The front door flew open, and a woman in her late thirties came out and wrapped her motherly arms around her son. She looked directly at Charles. “Thank you.”
Mr. Thompson spoke up. “Mama, you and Rachel take Lindley inside.” They did as he bid.
Once Mr. Thompson’s family was inside and the door closed, the older man turned to Charles. Then he shoved his hand out, holding it suspended in the gap between them.
Surprised, Charles stared at the offer a moment before he reached out and took the man’s hand.
Mr. Thompson gave him a firm handshake.
“Thank you for saving my son. My only son. If you and Rachel hadn’t found him, he would have died.”
Charles recalled Lindley naming off his siblings. All girls. The poor man had only one son. And that son’s life had been in danger. Charles’s parents had the proverbial heir and a spare with two more spares to boot. Mr. Thompson had no spares. “I was glad to be of assistance. Your son is a fine boy.” He expected Mr. Thompson to take his leave, but he stayed in place.
Mr. Thompson cleared his throat. “If that invitation to the Christmas soiree still stands, my family would be honored to come.”
Charles realized he blinked several times. He was trying to make sense of what the man had said. Had he really accepted the invitation? Or was that just what Charles had wanted him to say? “Sir?”
Mr. Thompson pulled his eyebrows together. “Are you really going to make me say it again?”
“I just can’t believe you’re accepting my invitation.”
“Well, I am. But if you don’t want us—”
“No. I definitely want you there. All of you. I just never thought you would change your mind. Not after yesterday morning.”
“I’m indebted to you. I owe you my son’s life.”
“You owe me nothing. I was happy to aid in the search. Yes, the invitation still stands. I would be honored to have you as my guests.” Feeling bolstered, he asked, “May I speak with Rachel?”
Mr. Thompson shook his head. “You’ll see her in two days’ time. Good day, Lieutenant.”
He would see Rachel in two days’ time with her father’s approval. He was more than pleased with that. Out of respect, Charles came to attention and saluted Mr. Thompson.
* * *
Rachel did her best to peer out the window. But Genevieve wouldn’t let her get too close to the window and the curtain blocked part of her view.
She saw Charles climb onto the wagon and drive away. She sighed. She’d hoped Papa would let her talk with Charles a little. Papa had been quite civil during the whole ordeal last night. She knew it had been hard for him to accept help from the English, but he’d done so with remarkable decorum. She stepped back as Papa came inside.
Papa closed the door and hung up his coat. He wouldn’t look at her. “Where is Mama?”
“She wanted to put Lindy to bed, but he fussed, so she put him in the parlor near the fire.”
He went into the other room, leaving her behind.
Dared she follow? Was she welcome? Or would she be shooed away?
Papa stood at the fireplace and turned his gaze on her. “Rachel, this concerns you.”
Her stomach tightened. Papa did not sound happy. With a deep breath, she strolled into the room, putting on a pleasant expression.
Alice sat in a chair with baby Priscilla on her lap. Winnie and Edith sat on the floor with their rag dolls.
Well, it couldn’t be anything bad if all the little ones were present.
Papa studied her for several moments.
It made her nervous.
Finally, he spoke. “As much as it pains me, I must give credit where credit is due. If not for Lieutenant Young risking his life, I believe Lindley wouldn’t have been found until morning, and I fear that would have been too late.”
Rachel bubbled inside. She would in no way have wished for her brother’s turmoil of the night before, but she was glad something good had come of it. All things work together for good...
Papa went on. “I think—against my better judgment—I have, on behalf of the whole family, accepted the lieutenant’s invitation to the English Christmas Eve soiree.”
Rachel stared at Papa. She knew what she thought she’d heard, what she wanted to hear, but what had Papa actually said?
“Yippee!” Lindley said.
Papa gazed directly at her. “Well, daughter? I thought you would be happy.”
Genevieve touched Papa’s arm. “My dear, I do believe you have rendered your daughter speechless. I hadn’t thought that possible.”
Rachel found her voice. “Did you say that we will be going to the English Christmas party?”
“I believe they are calling it a soiree. But yes.”
Rachel flew across the room and hugged Papa. “Thank you, Papa, thank you!” She felt his chuckle rumble in his chest.
Genevieve gasped. “That’s only two days away.” She stood. “We have a lot to do. Come, Rachel.”
What was her stepmother up to? She followed Genevieve upstairs to the room her stepmother shared with Papa.
Genevieve knelt before an old trunk in front of the window and creaked open the lid. Then she set about pulling out several pieces of folded clothing and fabric, even a quilt, and putting them aside. She lifted out a pile of green velvet and set it on the bed. “This was mine when I was younger. I dare say I will never fit into it again, not after five children.” She unfolded the skirt and matching shirtwaist. “It doesn’t have any lace or fancy trim, but the fabric is good. I think we can turn it into an appropriate gown for the party.”
Rachel gaped. “Oh, Genevieve, it will make a lovely gown. I’ve never had anything so fine. Are you sure? Don’t you want to save it for Alice?”
“If we make our seams wide and keep all the leftovers, we should be able to redesign it for her, as well. You need to have a pretty dress to ensure your lieutenant knows you are the most beautiful lady there.” Genevieve held the shirtwaist up to Rachel. “I think if we modify the sleeves and the neckline and adjust the fit and hem, that should be manageable.”
Rachel pressed her hands to the garment and twirled around. “It will be lovely.” She hugged Genevieve. “Thank you ever so much. I’ll feel like Cinderella.”
“Well, I have no glass slippers for you. If you are Cinderella, that makes me your cruel stepmother.”
“Certainly not. You are my fairy godmother.”
* * *
Charles saw Brantley outside the stable after he handed over the horse and wagon to the stable hand. “She’s coming!”
“You sound like a giddy schoolgirl.”
He was giddy. Rachel’s father had actually accepted the invitation. No more sneaking around. “Don’t you mean schoolboy?”
Brantley shook his head. “No. You are acting like a schoolgirl.”
Charles took the barb. He didn’t care. He was happy. His prayer had been answered. He was going to see Rachel with her father’s blessing. And he would do what he could to convince the older man that he’d make Rachel a good husband.
“You may have added another plank in bridging the gap between the two sides.”
Charles hoped so. In more ways than one.
Chapter 20
Charles glanced out the window again. “Where are they?”
Brantley took his arm and pulled him across the room. “Gaping out the window won’t hasten the lady Thompson’s arrival.”
The hall was decorated with red bows. The aromas of cinnamon and apple cider drifted in the air.
“You don’t think Mr. Thompson changed his mind, do you? That he was just placating me when he said his family could attend?”
“The man has a passel of women who need to prepare themselves. I have only one, and we are never on time for anything. Are you sure you want the inconvenience of a wife?”
“Rachel could never be an inconvenience.”
“We’ll see.”
His breath caught at the sight of her. His Juliet. He enjoyed the vision of her while she searched the room for him.
When her gaze came around and landed on him, her face brightened.
“This is what you’ve been waiting for.” Brantley shoved him from behind. “Go to her.”
Charles strode across the room and stopped in front of her. Taking her hand, he bowed over it. “A pleasure, milady.�
� He was delighted to see the slight blush in her cheeks.
“You’ve met my papa, Warren Thompson.”
Charles shook the man’s hand, pleased with the firm grip he gave him. “Sir. I am happy you and your family could join us.” He knew he didn’t have to call the man sir but did so out of respect.
“Thank you for the invitation.”
Rachel continued with the introductions. “This is Genevieve and baby Priscilla.”
Charles bowed over Rachel’s stepmother’s hand and caressed the baby’s cheek. “Thank you for coming.”
Genevieve smiled. “You certainly have put up the decorations.”
“The Lord’s birth is worth celebrating.” Fir boughs hung over each of the windows and adorned the refreshment table. A large decorated pine tree stood in the corner.
“My sister Alice,” Rachel said.
Charles took Alice’s hand and bowed. “Milady.”
Alice giggled, and her face reddened.
He was introduced to Winnie and Edith and, of course, Lindley, who had recovered well from his peril three days prior.
Captain Bazalgette came over, and Charles introduced him to Rachel’s family.
The captain gave a nod. “I’m pleased you and your family could attend our little gathering.”
Charles offered his elbow to Rachel. “Would you care for some apple cider?”
After glancing at her father for approval, she looped her hand through his arm.
He guided her to the refreshment table and handed her a cup of cider. All this formality felt stiff. He’d always had a relaxed relationship with Rachel. But he mustn’t make even one misstep if he was to gain Mr. Thompson’s trust. And eventually his daughter.
Charles gave a deep bow. “May I have this dance?”
“I don’t know any fancy dances.”
“This is a waltz. It has a three-count tempo. One, two, three. One, two, three.” He set her cup on the table and held out his hand to her. “May I have the honor of instructing you?” It would give him an acceptable excuse to hold her in his arms.
“You think you can teach a simple island girl?”