by Jerri Hines
“As I have said, there is much you don’t understand. Know this, though, as much as this young lady has driven me to the end of my own patience, she is not at fault. Her kindness to Ian will not be forgotten by me or Esther. I do have a request from you, Dr. Corbett.”
“That would be?”
“Daniel spoke of you with reverence. It is that I hope to draw upon. I fear that Black Rory let her live to dishonor Reed before he makes a last play against the man. I fear she is endangered, as well as the babe. He is a heartless soul. My duty is to protect her, but she refuses to listen to me. I hope she will you.”
“What is it that you want me to tell her?” Jonathan asked, unsure where the man was leading him.
“Esther’s eldest son, Jeremiah, offered for her. She soundly refused. He is only sixteen, but it was the honorable thing to do, given the circumstances. It would have solved so many issues, but no matter the decision she makes, she needs to leave Charles Town. You need to get her to do so. Make no mistake about it, Dr. Corbett, she needs help. Your help.”
Jonathan sat at the end of an overlong table with overlarge chairs. Given he hadn’t much of a choice, he accepted Cutler’s invitation for dinner. His seat faced the bay windows overlooking the garden with a full moon shining on the immaculate manicured lawn. His attention drawn to the solitude of the scene, he wished he had a moment to contemplate Cutler’s words.
The whole of the story cried for clarification. He dined in the home of the deceased Ian Cahill, who according to Cutler, was Rebekah’s fiancé. Fiancé? Daniel joined the dinner party, whereas Paul withdrew back to Reed’s home. Across from him sat Mrs. Daventry alongside Cutler, but the one he wanted to see wasn’t present. There was no Rebekah.
A sigh of relief escaped Jonathan when Cutler announced retiring into the drawing room. Following Mrs. Daventry, Daniel suddenly gripped Jonathan’s forearm, pausing Jonathan momentarily. Jonathan looked up. In front of him stood a woman by the French doors. He blinked, unbelieving the sight before him, but his eyes fixated on her. Rebekah. No, it couldn’t be, not the woman before him—but the eyes, the eyes were the same. Gone was the innocent and young girl in his memory, the one who clung on his every word.
Time had changed and at the same time matured her to a lovely woman. Her thick hair upswept in the most flattering of fashions; her blue eyes illuminated as her eyes caught his. Her gown was simple, a bluish color that reminded him of a clear morning sky. A lace shawl lay on her shoulders. Her fingers tightened as she gave him a tentative smile, but it was her expression that struck a chord in him. In the midst of all around him, he reprimanded himself soundly. He was embarrassing himself.
“Rebekah. Rebekah Morse, it is good to see you,” he finally uttered and walked toward her. Awkwardly, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. For a moment he thought she was going to recoil from the exchange, but she caught herself.
A hesitant smile emerged on her lovely face. “So I have heard. Daniel told me.”
“Then you know why I am here. Dr. Jenkins has been worried. So have I. I hope you don’t mind my calling on you. You couldn’t expect me to come down without calling on your family.”
“Of course not,” she acknowledged. She hesitated briefly. “It’s good to see you.”
He studied her for a moment. Why did he get the impression it really wasn’t? No, he had to be imagining it. He leaned over for her ears only. “To be honest it is good to see a welcoming face. We have so much to catch up on…”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Jonathan. I can’t,” she said quickly, too quickly. “I came only to see you for a moment. Daniel asked me to show you that I’m well. I know I have been quite delinquent with keeping in touch with Dr. Jenkins and Mrs. Jenkins. I have letters…”
“Come now, Rebekah. We haven’t seen each other for years and you’re not giving me but a few seconds. Can we not talk?”
Her eyes shifted over the others in the room. The exchange wasn’t lost on Jonathan. As if cornered, she bit her bottom lip. “I suppose we could talk on the veranda.”
Not waiting for her to change her mind, Jonathan offered Rebekah his arm. Glancing at her, he caught her eyes. A brief smile warmed him. He nodded toward Cutler, who nodded his approval, and walked out into the night’s air with Rebekah’s arm linked through his.
“I’m sorry, Jonathan. I don’t mean to seem rude,” Rebekah said softly. She released his arm and walked ahead of him slightly to the railing, staring blankly ahead.
Moonlight reflected in her eyes when she looked back at him. Memories assaulted him, sweet memories of time past: Philadelphia, a different time and place before the war and the death that had surrounded him and consumed his soul. A cool breeze hit his face as he casually strolled to her side.
He was mesmerized for a moment at her figure shimmering in the light of the night’s sky; it had been a long time since he had seen a woman in this manner. His eyes fastened on the lady in front of him, finding, incredibly, he was drawn to her. Her gown glistened, reflecting the light illuminating around her. Impulsively, he reached for her hand. She allowed him to hold it. A slight smile once more emerged on her face, softening the worried lines around her eyes.
"Truly, I hope that Dr. and Mrs. Jenkins forgive me. I have been quite delinquent and have worried them needlessly. I hope you can convey my sincere apology. I will send them a letter trying to explain my situation," she said, glancing up at him nervously. "Can you tell them how well and fine I am...and happy?"
“Are you, though?"
Immediately, he regretted his words. Her eyes lowered. She withdrew her hand and patted her hair, traveling downward, straightening her dress. She pressed her full lips together.
"Oh, I hope you don't think I meant your appearance made you seem as though you aren't...," he uttered, trying to rectify his mistake. "You look lovely, Rebekah. Quite enchanting. You have changed since the last time I saw you…"
He stopped. He was only digging a deeper hole for himself. She nodded slightly, but she didn't look at him. Holding her lips tightly against each other, her head turned. Did he see tears welling in her eyes?
“Oh, I have botched this. I looked forward to seeing you again. I thought in Philadelphia we were friends...I mean...I would like to see you happy, Rebekah.”
For a moment, she said nothing. Without warning, she turned, facing him. “What a strange thing to say.”
“Why?”
“Because seeing you now brings all back. Mother, Father. All seemed then so much simpler... I miss them,” she said honestly. She fell silent once more. He watched as her hand brush back a stray tear that fell. He took his handkerchief in his waistcoat pocket; gently he reached over and patted her cheeks. Her large eyes stared up at him. He had a sudden impulse to pull her into his arms, to comfort her from the sorrow dwelling in her expressive eyes.
“I remember those times, too," he said simply, smiling down at her. It seemed so long ago when she followed him around at the Jenkins’, helping him. Yet here now, it seemed as yesterday. "The war..." he paused. “I should say it is nice to remember those times. Sometimes it's hard to recall."
“I know."
“Then let us be friends again. I would like to be.” His hand stretched out, touching her cheek. “Fate has brought two old friends back together.”
She met his eyes. Abruptly she broke from his gaze, turning her attention back to the darkened garden. “I never expressed my sympathies for Catherine’s death. I know how much you cared about her and how hard it must be on you. Mrs. Jenkins wrote, though, that you had the most charming of son. You must take joy from him.”
Jolted for the moment by the mention of his dead wife, he hesitated. Should he tell her it was the only good thing he took from his marriage? Instead he said, “Little William. I saw him on my journey down here. He is quite the little devil at times, but my sister-in-law is doing a commendable job taking care of him. Lydia has been like his mother even before Catherine’s death. He could not be in better hands.
I feel content with the arrangement and Lydia writes often of his growth.”
Rebekah moved slightly toward him as if trying to console him for his loss. Instinctually, he eased closer. Her face sat so close to him when he leaned over to her. He could smell her skin, a lavender fragrance. Whatever was he thinking? This was Rebekah. She was with child…in trouble.
“Do you…?” she paused. Her expression changed suddenly. “I’m sorry, Jonathan. I can only imagine what you have been told. I wish they hadn’t done so. The issue is mine and you should not have been bothered. I told Mr. Cutler and Daniel they are looking at trouble before it emerges. I have a plan. I’m going to leave Charles Town after…” She broke her gaze and looked over his shoulder at the doors behind him. “I will be fine. It has been good to see you. So good…”
“Hold,” Jonathan uttered soundly. She was leaving him! “You can’t just run off. Stay, please. I volunteered for this mission only to see that your welfare was being looked after. Dr. Jenkins has been worried out of his mind, with good cause.”
“I am touched. Truly I am, Jonathan.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. To his disbelief, she shook her head. “But I’m sorry. So much has happened. I wish…I wish I was that person you are looking for…but I’m not that person anymore…it’s for the best.”
She turned on her heels and ran back into the house, leaving him staring into the night.
“Don’t believe her, Dr. Corbett,” a voice said from behind him. Jonathan turned to see Daniel, walking up to his side. “She is keeping everything inside her. Since we came south, she has looked after all of us with only one thought in mind: keeping us together as she promised Father. I didn’t even realize all she sacrificed for us until Ian told me after her abduction. I feel I failed her once. I refuse to do so again.”
“I’m confused on what you want me to do, Daniel. Talk her into marrying this Jeremiah? Maybe she is right. Maybe she should go away and have the babe. Come back after...”
“See, it is you that doesn’t understand,” Daniel interrupted him. “She wants to keep the babe. She is going to leave here forever, she says, never to return. Says she has to. Her only choice to protect us. It’s madness. Alone? Unprotected?
“She will listen to you. She trusts you. I remember her talking about you often when we first came down here and before. When I heard you were to come, I felt the first surge of hope for her that I’ve had in such a long time. I know you can help her. Please, Dr. Corbett. Whether she realizes it or not, she needs your help…we need your help.”
Chapter Eight
Jonathan ran his hand through his hair, looking disgusted with the view before him, a torrential downpour. His mood was no better than the storm that raged. His orders had finally come through. He was to report to General Howe in less than two days’ time. His aggravation built. No, he thought, his anger, especially when his thoughts turned to Rebekah.
Beyond angry—the stubborn woman! He had called on her three times, three times! And what! The last time he had known she was home and she left him standing uncomfortably in the middle of the foyer. He would take no more! How long could he make a fool of himself! The look on the butler’s face said all that needed to be said.
Awkwardly standing with his hat in hand, his chest heaved heavily. What possessed him? Had he not done what was proper? Dr. Jenkins should be satisfied. He had done what would be expected. She was alive, well, and it seemed, wealthy. If she was in danger, Cutler seemed the sort to well take care of her problem.
The home she lived in sat along King Street, one of the grandest along a main stay of magnificent houses. As he had seen on his first visit, the whole of the house encompassed elegance; moreover, according to Rebekah’s chatty friend he met at a dinner, Katy Landor, all this was Rebekah’s. Cutler had not exaggerated Rebekah’s inheritance.
He supposed he had done all he could to rectify the situation. Cutler learned he wasn’t the answer to Rebekah’s situation, that Daniel was wrong. Rebekah made her position perfectly clear. She did not hold to the past and clearly not to him. Why the thought bothered him so was beyond reason, but it did. It bothered him greatly.
Bother! He wished he could leave this minute. He needed a diversion. He didn’t need time to think. Over the last few days, thoughts ran rampant in him. Disappointment. He laughed to himself. What a pitiful fool he was! Good God! He wanted Rebekah to turn to him. He wanted to remember the man he was before this godforsaken war! He wanted to cling to the thread that there was a semblance of the life he had known…
Suddenly, there was a pounding on his door. Before he had time to open it, it opened abruptly. Daniel pressed his way in. “Dr. Corbett, you have to come. Quickly. Rebekah has left,” he cried, holding a note in his hand. “You have to find her and stop her.”
* * * *
The rain began again. The storm brewing on the horizon burst forth on the streets of Charles Town. Rebekah was getting soaked standing outside the Meeting Street Inn. The choice seemed so simple a short while ago. She made it without a second thought: a very practical solution to a number of issues.
Nervousness swept over her, a sense that there would be no coming back from this step across the threshold. Try as she might, she couldn’t get Katy’s pleas out of her head.
“You can’t seriously be considering this. Rebekah, he’s a madman. He kidnapped you and…and…” Katy’s hand waved toward her stomach. “I don’t mean to be so brutal, but Rebekah, my dearest friend, he’s a murderer! He…he will kill you this time.”
“You don’t understand, Katy. He’ll do me no harm. I’m not sure he will go. I’m not sure of anything except I have to leave. I have to protect everyone. Over in France, I will have a chance to live a life without fear. If he gives up his life here…if Rory wants a hope of a life again with his child away from the killing and loss…then I will consider it once I get to my destination. I have to get away.”
“We have only just met this Mademoiselle Fontaine, Rebekah. I beg you…Go to this friend of yours. Dr. Corbett, please. He will help you. I know, Ernie says…”
Rebekah took her friend’s hand in hers. “I can’t do this to him or anyone. I wish everything was different, but it’s not.”
She cast one last troubled glance at her dearest friend and turned back toward the door. She couldn’t explain to Katy what she herself couldn’t understand. One note from Rory called her away from the people who loved her, but it was for that reason she had to leave. She put all in danger. She felt it.
If she could only leave and go away from anyone who knew her, she could raise her child safe away from this madness. Rebekah thought back to the casual meeting with Mademoiselle Fontaine at Katy’s home, a friend of Randa. Rebekah found Mademoiselle Fontaine the most interesting of women, elegant and refined. The woman talked of the court of King Louis and the world allowed in France. To Rebekah it seemed she was heaven sent.
Had she not begged Rory to go away with her and start anew? Was not France the perfect place for this? She decided well before the arrival of this woman to leave. She had no choice, especially with Jonathan’s appearance. Oh, why had they seemed fit to play on Jonathan’s sense of honor? Jonathan of all people! She could not face him.
Rebekah didn’t remember how the subject arose, but in honesty when Mademoiselle Fontaine talked of a new life, Rebekah wasn’t surprised to hear her say that Rory sent her to deliver a message, a message only Rory would have known to send.
The hurt of his betrayal stung deep, but in her mind, she had little choice. She needed to leave, immediately…without delay…for everyone’s sake. She reasoned she would start her new life away from all the danger, betrayal, and lies. She would have her child. If Rory chose to follow, she would forgive him. For no matter his actions, no matter the words uttered about him, she refused to believe he meant her or his own child harm. She loved him. Didn’t she? She had given herself to him so freely and now they had a child set to come into this world.
She shoo
k her head. She needed to ignore the doubts swelling in her. It was too late to do anything other than to meet with Mademoiselle Fontaine as planned. Soon she would be on board ship to France. With any luck, she would be settled into the chateau well before the birth of her child in September. She sighed heavily and pulled her hood over her head.
By the harbor, the inn itself was respectable. Many passengers on board ships arriving and departing stayed in these walls. Ignoring the stares from the patrons for entering unattended, she lowered her gaze and entered. She walked straightaway for the stairs, following the instructions she memorized.
She needed only to reach Mademoiselle. She stood at the top of the stairs and hesitated. Looking back over her shoulder, she walked toward her destination. Suddenly, she heard voices before she turned the corner. The voices rose louder. She felt a faint trickling of uneasiness, but she pushed it aside. Easing ever so quietly, she pressed against the wall, glancing around the bend before turning down the hall.
Halting in her tracks, Rebekah stiffened. Tobias was there and had gripped Mademoiselle Fontaine by her arm, pushing the woman back against the wall.
“Where is the girl?” The force of his words made Rebekah shudder. “Rory ain’t gonna be happy!”
She needed not hear anymore. She spun on her heels, castigating herself as an absolute idiot. Rory was after her! Oh, what a fool she had been! She backed up, knocking into the table in the hall. The vase came crashing down. Trembling uncontrollably, she edged down the wall. Hearing hurried footsteps, fear encompassed her when she saw two men running up the staircase. Rory’s men! She panicked.
Bolting in the opposite direction, she headed for the back stairs. Her hope of slipping down the stairs undetected dissipated hearing the rumblings behind her. Rebekah quickened her pace, rapidly taking each step until she hit the first floor. She hit the back door running, struck by an impelling urge to get as far from the inn as possible.