by Jerri Hines
“Rebekah, I…we knew about the last note. Jasper discovered some of it in the fireplace. The whole of it didn’t burn. Jasper went to Daniel, who went straight to Katy. Katy told Daniel everything. It was what sent us down to the inn.”
“You knew?”
He nodded. “I knew that you had been set up. That you were confused and hurt. That this man, Black Rory, is a soulless creature. And that I will do whatever I have to do to make sure you and your child are safe. Have you not noticed you have a sentry around you now?”
She gazed back at Jonathan. She hadn’t given much thought to the men. She thought them friends of Mr. Cutler.
“You have not said anything to change my mind, Rebekah. I feel this is the right move. I believe it would be what your parents would have wanted. Dr. Jenkins…”
“That is just it, Jonathan.” She stepped backwards. “You are doing this as a debt owed to my father. But there are still things you do not know…”
“I do know.” He shook his head. “Rodger Morse was your father in every way that matters. Mrs. Daventry told me all. In confidence, I assure you. Moreover, I want to marry you, Rebekah. I told you that for the first time in a long time, it feels right. I want you to be my wife. I believe you want it, too, if you only admit it to yourself.”
He caught her by her shoulders and forced her to face him. “It matters not to me the manner of your birth, Rebekah. It matters to me only that you are here.” He stared into her eyes. “Is that all? There is nothing else you wish to tell me?”
She shook her head.
“Then there is only one thing else to do, but marry this day. This morning. Marry me, Rebekah.”
“Oh, Jonathan,” she cried. Tears shone in her eyes as she gazed into his.
On impulse, she leaned towards him. As he couldn’t resist the urge, he embraced her tightly into his arms. His lips pressed against hers. She held her breath, not daring to move. Part of her longed to throw caution to the wind and accept what Jonathan offered, the part of her heart that had lain dormant since the day she left Philadelphia.
His lips brushed hers gently, slowly. She gave in to her urge and slipped her arms around his neck. She kissed him back. His grip tightened as he kissed her again, deeper and harder. Abruptly, he pulled away.
Cupping her face in his hand, he said softly, “We will make this work, Rebekah. I promise. It’s a new beginning for us both.” He reached down to her stomach, laying his hand against it. “Trust me, Rebekah.”
For the first time in such a long time, the hope of a happy ending surged within her. “It’s what you want?”
He smiled and kissed her lightly on her lips again. “Without question.”
Chapter Nine
Damn mosquitos! Jonathan swatted another on his clammy neck. The pests seemed to swarm in black clouds around the creek beds. Running his hand through his hair, he looked thoroughly disgusted. Perspiration poured from his pores; his clothes were drenched with his sweat. And he thought he hated the cold back in Valley Forge. At least there the enemy was clear. They fought the cold and the British. Here?
The men fought anything that raised their voice against them. Why, Jonathan doubted whether half the men knew what side they were fighting for at times. No, he wasn’t thinking of the confounded British. He had never seen this amount of discord between seemingly allies.
A constant battle between the South Carolina militia and General Robert Howe had led the Southern Continental Army to being stationed in Savannah. After only a few days, Jonathan wondered whether Howe hadn’t wanted to leave Charles Town only to leave Gadsden behind. He had never witnessed such dissension between fractions.
He sympathized with Howe to a certain degree. Understanding Howe had been denied control of the militia, Jonathan wondered whether Howe’s decisions were based solely on doing the opposite of what Christopher Gadsden advised. Whatever the reason, Jonathan comprehended that things were in dire straits in the South.
First and foremost was the trouble in recruiting soldiers. Even to his naïve eyes, he saw visible signs of a great social divide, evident in the way the soldiers and the elite officers were treated. Tales were numerous of enlisted men stealing from their officers, rioting, and drunkenness. In turn, the soldiers’ punishments seemed extreme. Only last week, a private named Hodge had been flogged a hundred lashes for drinking from his commanding officer’s mug. Lieutenant Lionel Ward from the original Ward family of Charles Town seemed taken aback that a backwoodsman would have the nerve to assert such familiarity with a man of his obvious stature.
In the North, Jonathan witnessed countless middle-class officers commanding sturdy yeomen and farmers with a common purpose united in a people’s war, but here tensions mounted and conflict seemed endemic. Unbeknownst to him, he stepped headlong into this conflict just with his appearance. He quickly ascertained these Southerners didn’t take kindly being told what to do.
General Howe greatly opposed the planned inoculation. Jonathan suspected Howe thought there was more than met his eyes. Whatever the reason, it didn’t beholden Jonathan to his commander.
“I’m not certain why Washington felt the need to send more doctors here. We have an overabundance of doctors. They have flocked to the South thinking it is some sort of haven, but let me be the first to give you some words of wisdom,” Howe berated him on more than one occasion.
“Carolina in the spring is a paradise, in summer a hell, and in the autumn a hospital, but we don’t need any more damn docs. Got no room for your kind. Don’t do no good if you ask me, anyway.”
The words echoed in his mind, having heard them a hundred times since his arrival.
“I understand that it can attract physicians, but we are military doctors, surgeons, General. We are not setting up practice,” Jonathan countered. “I’m not sure I understand your position. Do you not understand that we were sent with a specific purpose? Dr. Keyser and I have our mission.”
“Which won’t be happening. I read over the papers. It’s not feasible. I had my own physician, Dr. Lynch, consult with it. Said there are too many things that you have no control over. You could start a whole epidemic down here.”
“Do you realize these are orders? Direct orders. We have already conducted the inoculations up North. Don’t you…”
“That is all well and good, Dr. Corbett,” Howe interrupted. “But General Washington isn’t here and in my estimation it is not needed, especially with the threat it can cause. No, it won’t be happening. In truth, I don’t have any need for your services that I can see.”
The last few weeks Jonathan and Keyser settled down to mundane tasks. At the moment, he followed a patrol unit along the Florida border, during which his thoughts turned to his bride.
If the truth be told, the thought was never far from him. He leaped into a marriage, determined to save Rebekah. Without forethought, without contemplating the long-term consequences, without listening to Rebekah’s protest, he dove into a lifetime commitment. He was taking responsibility not only for Rebekah, but her unborn child. Not his child, but Black Rory’s child!
He convinced her there lay a chance of happiness in this arrangement. Happiness…he had not known happiness in such a long time. No words of love had been exchanged between them. Caring, yes—he supposed they used caring. They cared about each other. Then his thoughts turned to the moment he saw her again after so many years.
Good God, what was wrong with him? Standing in the foyer, she looked breathtakingly lovely in that moment. Her dark auburn hair arranged to flatter her face…her telling eyes. She gave him a tentative smile and instantly his interest was aroused. Was it simply because he had been without a woman for so long? Must be out of my ever-loving mind!
He laughed out loud. Maybe he was.
“Hey, Doc,” a voice called from behind him. Jonathan swatted another mosquito before glancing up at the young private, Odie Samuels. He held a letter in his hand. “The courier found this in his bag before he left this morning. G
ot stuck in the pocket of his bag. It’s addressed to you.”
Jonathan nearly snatched the letter out of the private’s hand, doing little to hide his irritation. He had been out on patrol for the last three weeks. Before that, he had almost lost track of time…he left at the end of June. More than three months…three months of hell…of enduring a late Indian summer. Letters were a precious commodity, a connection to the real world.
He looked down at the letter, noting it was in a woman’s handwriting. Rebekah. He walked to the bank of the creek and lowered himself into the long grass. A smile emerged on his lips as he read.
The letter was dated the beginning of September—a little over a week ago.
Dearest Jonathan,
My words will be brief. I do not understand the need to keep our nuptials quiet, but I will honor Mr. Cutler’s wishes, as your own also. I’m happy to inform you that I have emerged from my confinement, early though it may have been. Eliza Amelia…
Joy illuminated from her words. He read and reread the letter. Each time a strange feeling suffused through him. A feeling he wished he had felt when Catherine delivered their son. Catherine evoked a constant worry about her welfare. With Rebekah’s letter, a different feeling emerged…hope.
* * * *
The season passed—along with it, time. December emerged with Jonathan having no progress in the mission General Washington had sent him to accomplish. He had been given no leave, which wore on him. From her last letter, Rebekah moved under Cutler’s care back to a small home of Ian’s on the outside of Beaufort. There she waited, hopefully safe.
Over his deployment, he discovered more information on this Black Rory, none good. With the knowledge came the understanding he needed to implement his plan and remove his wife back to Williamsburg. Rebekah claimed she didn’t understand the need for secrecy, but both Cutler and he felt it best if none knew of their marriage. When she disappeared, the need was to remove her from the threat. Black Rory would never know where she was sent if Jonathan had his way.
Jonathan’s attention at the moment lay on General Howe. Sitting across from the man in his headquarters, with Keyser at Jonathan’s side, he suspected the news wasn’t good from the look on Howe’s face. What more did he expect? The news for months hadn’t been favorable.
The Southern Continental Army was stationed outside Savannah, but the British had begun to make their presence known. As feared, the British’s eyes turned from their failure in the North to retaking their claim on the South.
Howe’s face scowled, looking down at a report he held in his hand. “Docs, it seems that Congress has read your reports. I have been told that I have behaved in the most grievous of fashion! Notwithstanding the fact that I have been given the assignment of chasing the damn British out of Florida.” He slammed down his fist against the desk in front of him. “Tell me, Dr. Corbett, how was I supposed to accomplish both—inoculation and defeating the British?”
“General, with all due respect, it was our duty to report back,” Jonathan returned with the same intensity. “We were given orders ourselves. I don’t know what your communication states, but our report stated at this present time with the circumstances as they stand, it would not be safe or conducive to proceed with our course of action.”
Howe eyed both suspiciously, but he eased back down in his chair. “You wouldn’t have recommended the inoculations?”
“No, General,” Jonathan acknowledged. “You didn’t ask us our opinions, but we wrote of what we have encountered since our arrival. We both were in agreement with you that inoculations would inflict more harm than good. The troops are too undisciplined, with the militia answering to one authority and the army another. And to be honest, heaven knows what else. It is not for us to evaluate your troop’s abilities, but for us to evaluate whether we could accomplish our objection. And given the circumstance, there is no way to do so safely.”
Jonathan could see the anger ease in his tense face. General Howe breathed out deeply. Gesturing with his hand, he turned to his lieutenant. “Pour us all some drinks. We will need them.”
The general accepted his glass. His mouth wrenched, “Congress does not listen well to me. I have urged them to abandon this course of action. A fool’s errand. We need to focus our attention elsewhere. Fortify our armies. But I will continue to do as I’m commanded until the time they see fit to relieve me of duty.”
“I’m certain it is a hard position to be in,” Jonathan agreed, looking directly at the general.
General Howe met his gaze with a half-formed smile. “After our first meeting, I have thought about you. Did you know that back in ’75 I led my militia unit up to help Woodford’s army in Virginia? You’re from Virginia, I understand.”
Jonathan nodded slightly. “Williamsburg, to be precise.”
“It was my thought. Then would it be presumptive of me to ask whether you are kin to the Corbetts Dunmore hanged as traitors to King George? Spies, precisely.”
Instantly, Jonathan’s throat tightened. His smile soured. Taking a moment, he answered brusquely, “I assume you are talking of my father and brother. Their sacrifice is never forgotten.”
“Nor should it ever be.” General Howe’s lips thinned. “Then you are the one they whisper of. The Virginian Doctor on a mission. My only hope is that you can foster your devotion to our cause on the ones around us.” He raised his glass high. “To the ones that have given their lives. A credit to Virginia and to all. Let it be we can all face our future with as much courage!”
The next morning without explanation, Howe sent Jonathan back to Charles Town by boat. It wasn’t until he stepped back into Charles Town he discovered the reason. The contentment he felt along his journey dissipated quickly. Major-General Robert Howe, the commander of the Southern Division of the Continental Army had been relieved of duty. His replacement, General Benjamin Lincoln, had arrived in Charles Town with a request…no order in hand for Jonathan. Dr. Jonathan Corbett was now the personal physician to General Benjamin Lincoln. Jonathan’s request to be reassigned North had been denied.
Charles Town was a strange city, Jonathan thought, given the hero’s welcome General Lincoln received on his arrival. Over the last week, he had accompanied General Lincoln from one social event after another. The elite of Charles Town opened wide their arms in acceptance of their New Englander commander. Jonathan found it all rather odd. Being a Virginian himself, one would have thought a commander from amongst their own would be better accepted with the Carolinians.
If the truth be known, Jonathan came to the conclusion all was a façade to rid themselves of the unpopular Howe, ignoring the many problems the army faced, which were escalating by the day.
Tonight he dined at the home of one of the wealthier merchants—Landor, he believed his name was. As with all the homes Jonathan visited along the Battery, the home oozed elegance. The Landor home offered the finest wine and food Jonathan had eaten in Charles Town, served on silverware and china from across the ocean, and for entertainment soothing music played by a seven-piece orchestra; it was also the home of Rebekah’s friend, Katy.
Rebekah was not here in Charles Town and Jonathan had yet to make a move toward her except for a letter to tell her he was in Charles Town. But tonight another guest gave hope to a remedy: Pierce Cutler.
“Aw, Doctor Corbett. A pleasure to see you back in Charles Town,” Cutler greeted him before dinner. “Would it be an imposition to seek a word in private with you? There is a room down the foyer that would allow us some privacy.”
“But of course,” Jonathan readily agreed. Stepping behind General Lincoln, he followed Cutler into the vacant room.
Cutler closed the door immediately after Jonathan entered. Cutler’s shadow traveled along his path in the candlelight of the room. The small room was plain, with only a few wooden chairs and a bare, simple table. Cutler didn’t bother to take a seat, choosing instead to lean against the table.
The lean, hard expression solidified on Cu
tler’s face warned Jonathan. He wasn’t sure of what. Cutler’s mind seemed fixated on a serious matter, but so was his.
Jonathan walked toward the window. The window whined under the onslaught of the December wind. He turned back to Cutler. “There is a problem.”
Cutler’s prominent chin stiffened. “That is what I have understood. You are now General Lincoln’s personal doctor? How the hell did that happen?”
“It was not by my request, I assure you, Cutler. Do you think I planned this? I requested to be reassigned North. This was only supposed to be a temporary assignment. General Lincoln requested me personally. Somehow or another I became linked to his command. I had nothing to do with it and am not particularly happy about it, but there’s nothing I can do at the moment. My concern is Rebekah. I need to see her and the child.”
“She is doing well. The babe also. I have only just returned from Evermore. She grows impatient, as I see you have as well.”
“You didn’t tell her about the new assignment? I…”
“No,” Cutler shook his head, interrupting Jonathan. “But it deeply concerns me. This complicates matters. I had hoped you would be able to take her away sooner rather than later.”
“Has something happened?”
A sigh escaped Cutler. “At the house on the coast, a lady began to make inquiries around the area trying to figure out who was in the old Miller house. I didn’t take a chance. It was time anyway, but less than a week after we left, the house was burned down.”
Jonathan gawked at the statement in wide-eyed astonishment. “By God!”