Savage Destiny (The Hearts of Liberty Series, Book 1)

by Phoebe Conn

  Wide-awake now, Ian was in such a hurry to leave the bed, he got tangled in the sheets, but after slipping and sliding, anchored his feet firmly to the floor. He lit the lamp and then peered at his wife's agonized expression. "It's too soon," he blurted out.

  A second pain caught Melissa, and she grabbed a pillow to muffle the scream it wrenched from her lips. She had never thought of herself as a coward, but she hadn't been warned that the pain of childbirth would be so intense, and already on edge, it completely unnerved her. "Do you think I'm lying?" she gasped.

  "No, obviously not." Ian yanked on his britches and ran downstairs to wake her parents and Alanna, but his panicked pounding on their doors brought Byron and Elliott out into the hall as well. The Englishman had scared all five of them so badly they beat him back up the stairs. Rather than being comforted by her family's presence, Melissa began to cry huge tears.

  "My darling, you mustn't carry on so," Rachel warned. She smoothed back her daughter's hair and patted her shoulder lightly. "First babies take hours to arrive. When did your pains begin?"

  "Just now, but—" Melissa doubled over as another one tore through her.

  "They're only a few minutes apart," Ian explained, as he moved to his wife's side. "Send Andrew for Doctor Earle. I don't want to leave her, or I'd go myself."

  "We won't need him," Rachel cooed sweetly. "I'll get Polly to help us instead. She's delivered more babies than Dr. Earle."

  "I want the doctor," Ian insisted.

  John touched his arm, "If her pains are coming so fast, there isn't time to send for him, Ian. Now try and settle down a bit. There have been plenty of babies born in this house: Byron, Elliott, Melissa, and my brother and I, just to name a few."

  Alanna and her sisters had been sent to the neighbor's house on the day of her brother's birth, and she had no memories of it, but reacted to the tension in the room with her old fright. "I'll get Polly," she called, as she started down the hall. Barefoot, she ran from the house without taking a lamp or candle, then nearly lost her way in the dark. The McBrides lived a quarter of a mile down the road that ran through the plantation, but Alanna sprinted the whole way. When she reached it, she pounded on the door with both fists, instantly waking all the McBrides.

  It was Jacob, wearing a tattered nightshirt, who opened the door. "Lord, Miss Alanna. What's wrong?"

  Alanna hurriedly explained why Polly was needed, but she didn't wait for the cook to get dressed before she started back to the house. When she reached the third floor, her aunt, uncle, cousins, and Ian were still clustered around the bed. "Polly's on the way," she informed them. "Don't you think Melissa needs more room to breathe?"

  "Of course, she does," Rachel agreed. She pushed up the sleeves on her nightgown before waving toward the door. "John, you take Ian and our boys downstairs and keep them entertained. Despite the way Melissa is carrying on, I don't think we'll see our grandchild before dawn."

  "I don't want to leave," Ian argued.

  Barely recovered from the throes of another anguishing pain, Melissa still made her wishes known. "Please, Ian, just go," she begged.

  When the young man failed to move, Rachel took it upon herself to usher him toward the door. "She wants you to go, son, and believe me it will be better for the both of you, if you do." When they reached the door, she leaned close to whisper. "She'll do just fine. Don't you worry. She's just always loved attention is all."

  Ian looked over his mother-in-law's head for a final glimpse of his wife. He still wanted to stay with her, but afraid he would only be in the way rather than of any help, he succumbed to Rachel's insistent gestures and went downstairs.

  Alanna remained at the open door waiting for Polly, but she cast frequent glances toward the bed, where Melissa continued to weep and moan. "Try and have courage. Babies are born everyday," she called.

  "Not to me," Melissa cried.

  Rachel tugged on her daughter's arm. "Come on, get out of bed. Your labor will go faster, if you walk a bit."

  "That's impossible." But Melissa obeyed. She held on to the nightstand, then her mother's arm, and tried to take a few steps. "Something's wrong, Mama. It shouldn't hurt this bad, I know it shouldn't."

  "I never told you it wouldn't hurt," Rachel reminded her. "You won't be able to remember any of it, once the baby comes. I can promise you that. No woman would ever have more than one child, if she could remember the pain."

  Polly reached the landing in time to hear that remark, and clucked her tongue as she came through the door. "What are you telling that child, Miss Rachel?"

  "The truth is all."

  Swiftly taking charge, Polly sent Alanna for towels to protect the bed. "Bring us a kettle, too, and we can make hot water for tea in the fireplace right here. We'll need us some warm water later to bathe the baby. Better add another log to the fire."

  Alanna was kept busy supplying Polly with all she required, but she was frustrated the practiced midwife could do so little to calm Melissa and ease her pain. One hour slipped by and then two, but despite the frequency and harshness of Melissa's pains, Polly described her as being only in the first stages of labor. "You mean this could go on all night?" she asked.

  "You want to go back to bed, Miss Alanna? This could easily take until noon."

  Melissa was again lying curled up on the bed. She looked worn out, and Alanna couldn't leave her. "No. I'll stay, but isn't there something more we can do?"

  Polly shook her head. "Just wait is all. Now where are the baby's clothes?"

  "On the dresser, and the cradle's all ready, too. It's sitting there in the corner."

  "Oh, yes, I remember that pretty cherry wood cradle from when Miss Melissa was small. You were such a pretty baby, child."

  Melissa was beyond caring how attractive she might have been. Engulfed in another wave of pain, she no longer had the strength to do more than whimper. For the first time it occurred to her that born early, her baby might not survive. If his frail little body were whisked away and laid in a tiny coffin before Ian saw him, then her secret would be safe. It was an awful thought, and even to save herself, she couldn't wish the infant dead, but she feared that if he was suffering as badly as she, he couldn't possibly survive.

  To go through this terrible agony for nothing was a horrid possibility. She heard her mother and Polly talking softly, but she could no longer make out their words. Through a veil of tears, she saw Alanna, still in her nightgown, hovering near, and gestured helplessly for her to come closer.

  "Don't let Ian see the baby," she begged.

  "Melissa, what are you saying?"

  Melissa reached out to catch her cousin's wrist in a feeble grasp. "I want to show him the child. Only me. Promise."

  "Yes, if that's what you want." Alanna remained by the bed, but Melissa closed her eyes and didn't speak again. She had grown so pale, Alanna called Polly. "Please, come look at her."

  Polly wrung out a cloth in the bowl on the washstand before she approached the bed. She used it to wipe Melissa's face, and then she, too, grew alarmed. "Miss Melissa, honey? Look at me." When there was no response to her request, she drew back the covers.

  The lower half of Melissa's nightgown was soaked with blood.

  Polly began to scream. Rachel fainted. Alanna's mind played a cruel trick on her, sending her back in time to an afternoon eleven years earlier. She had a bunch of wildflowers in her hand, and was humming softly as she came through the front door of her home, but the safe haven she had expected was gone, and she was greeted by a nightmare that had taken years to recede.

  It wasn't until Ian shoved her aside that she realized she was no longer a terrified child, but the stench of death filled the room, and she feared her dear cousin was already gone.

  Chapter 13

  "Your wife's hemorrhage couldn't have been anticipated or averted, Captain. Had I been at her bedside, I would have been as helpless as you were to save her. It's a miracle you had the presence of mind to save your son. You ought to be more th
an just grateful for his birth, celebrate it. Had you not been so quick to act, you would have lost them both. What a terrible tragedy that would have been."

  Too numbed by grief to benefit from the physician's comfort, Ian could only stare at him blankly. "You should have been here," he agonized. "I never should have entrusted Melissa's care to a cook. That was my mistake, and it cost Melissa her life."

  Dr. Moses Earle was a man of inexhaustible patience. He explained again, and then once more. By the third telling, Ian finally seemed to understand that his wife had been doomed from the instant the hemorrhage had begun, and no physician—no matter how talented—could have saved her. He then gestured toward Ian's bloodstained garb.

  "I want you to get out of those clothes. After you've had the opportunity to bathe and dress, come back and sit with Melissa awhile. Talk with her. Tell her how much you'll love your son. I truly believe that she'll hear you, and talking will be a comfort to her, as well as you."

  "She was only eighteen."

  "You're not much older, are you, son?"

  "I'm twenty-six."

  "I'll not insult you by suggesting you'll fall in love again someday, but I know Melissa would want her child to have a loving mother. Talk that over with her, too. Now go on and clean up. I'll see that Melissa's body is prepared for burial, while you do. When you come back, everything will be ready."

  Alanna breathed a small sigh of relief as Ian shuffled out of the room without pausing to look at the newborn infant, who lay tenderly cradled in her arms. She was seated in a rocking chair near the window, and the early morning light illuminated the child clearly. After freeing the babe from his dead mother's womb, Ian had thrust him into Alanna's hands and taken no further notice of him. At first, with the baby covered in his mother's blood, she had not recognized him, but now that he had been bathed and dressed in the tiny garments his late mother had made, his heritage was unmistakable.

  He was a handsome child with a startling shock of ebony hair, deep brown eyes, and skin of a gorgeous golden hue. When Hunter had complained that Melissa had married the wrong man, Alanna had not realized he had such a strong justification for his view. She knew exactly when he and her cousin had been together: the night in early April when Melissa had awakened her with agonized sobs she had blamed on concern for her brothers. It was obvious now Melissa hadn't been crying for Byron and Elliott, but for herself.

  That had merely been the first of Melissa's lies. Now Alanna could not help but wonder if she had ever spoken the truth in the last eight months. It was now obvious why Melissa had insisted upon being the one to introduce Ian to her son, but what had she meant to tell him? Surely she would not have tried to convince Ian the babe was his, but would she have told him more lies, or provided the damning truth at long last?

  Alanna glanced up to find Polly had returned. She and Dr. Earle were hovering over Melissa's body, working to prepare her for her final journey to the grave. They had all expected the day to bring the joy of new life, not the pain of death, and no one had even glanced at the babe nestled in her arms. He was small, but perfectly formed, and his eyes shown with a bright, eager light. He was sucking on his fist, and Alanna began to worry how they would feed him.

  "Dr. Earle," she called softly.

  Startled, the physician turned. "My goodness, I'd quite forgotten that you were seated there. What is it, Alanna?"

  "We need some way to feed Melissa's son."

  "Yes, of course, a wet nurse must be found without delay. When I go back into Williamsburg, I'll see who I can find."

  "Charity Wade cares for infants," Polly offered.

  "Yes, she'll do," Moses Earle agreed. "It might be a good idea for me to take the baby to her, until arrangements can be made to care for him here."

  Alanna tightened her hold on the babe. "No, I want to meet her first and see her home, before I entrust Christian to her care."

  Dr. Earle approached Alanna's chair. "Is Christian the name Melissa had chosen?"

  "Yes, he's named for the brother I lost in infancy."

  "How prophetic," the physician mused, "for now he's lost his mother." He leaned over, peeled away the blanket to get a better look at the child, and then, shocked by his dark coloring, straightened up abruptly. "I know an Indian's babe when I see one. What's going on here?" he asked.

  Shocked by the doctor's question, Polly came close to get a good look at Christian. "Mother of God," she gasped, and quickly crossed herself. "What are we going to tell the Captain?"

  "It won't matter what we tell him, because he's never going to claim this child."

  "I believe Melissa meant to tell Ian the truth," Alanna explained. "But I don't know how to put it, when he's already heartbroken over losing her."

  "Do you know the father?" Moses Earle asked.

  That was not a question Alanna wanted to answer, but the doctor was a trusted family friend, and she could not bring herself to lie. "Yes."

  "I'm right, aren't I, he's an Indian brave?"

  "Yes, but I think I ought to discuss the matter with Ian and let him decide if he wishes to make that known."

  "Yes, of course," the physician agreed. "There's also Melissa's parents to consider. They won't be pleased to learn their darling daughter was unfaithful to her husband."

  "She wasn't unfaithful to Ian, Dr. Earle. She was with Christian's father before she married."

  "He's a bastard then!" Polly moaned.

  "Please, Mrs. McBride," Moses scolded, "his dear mother's body is not even cold."

  "Forgive me," Polly begged, but she again crossed herself.

  Taking note of the cook's horror, Dr. Earle rocked back on his heels. "I don't know Ian Scott well, but I would not want to compound the pain of any grieving widower by presenting him with a child who obviously wasn't his. I think we should leave here right now, Alanna, and take Christian to Mrs. Wade's. It may be an entirely unnecessary precaution, you understand, but I think we ought to do all we can to safeguard his life, when it cost his mother her own."

  "Ian wouldn't harm an infant," Alanna argued.

  "Not intentionally perhaps, but newborns are fragile. If Ian were to become enraged, and shook the child, or knocked him from your arms, the tragedy would occur before you could stop it. Let's not take that risk. Get dressed, gather up some clothes for the boy, and let's go."

  Uncertain what would become of the babe in her arms, Alanna rose slowly. "Polly, wrap Christian's clothes in one of the small blankets, and take them out to the doctor's carriage for me, please."

  While the cook hastened to do her bidding, Alanna carried Christian downstairs to her room. She laid him in the middle of her bed, and hurriedly pulled on one of the faded dresses hanging at the back of her wardrobe. She had no dark attire suitable for mourning, but the somber colors of the old dress mirrored her mood far better than any of her new garments did. Melissa had not shared the room in months, but the sight of her bed called forth memories Alanna could not tarry to savor. When she went downstairs, she found Dr. Earle waiting for her in the hall.

  "I cautioned Polly not to say anything about Christian, ever. To trust a servant not to gossip is foolish I know, but I do believe I convinced her to hold her tongue temporarily at least. I gave Rachel enough laudanum to keep her sleeping most of the day. John's sitting with her. Ian is still getting dressed, but let's be on our way before he attempts to stop us."

  The urgency of the physician's tone frightened Alanna, but she hoped Christian was more in need of nourishment than protection from his family. Byron and Elliott were seated in the parlor, and she paused at the doorway while Dr. Earle spoke with them. Depressed beyond tears, neither appeared to possess the energy to argue with what he had to say.

  "Alanna is coming with me to take the baby to a wet nurse in town. It will be better for everyone, if you don't have the bother of an infant in the house for the next few days."

  Moses and Alanna had already reached the yard when Elliott caught up with them. "I don't want Alanna to
be stranded in town. I'll saddle a couple of horses and follow you, so she'll have a way to come home."

  "Thank you. I've been so concerned about the baby, I'd not thought about getting home."

  Embarrassed by her gratitude, Elliott just nodded and loped off toward the barn.

  "Elliott's a very considerate young man. What do you intend to tell him?" Dr. Earle asked the moment they had gotten underway.

  "The truth," Alanna replied, "or at least what I know of it."

  "One look at the babe will tell Elliott all he needs to know."

  "Perhaps not."

  "Don't romanticize what happened, child. What Melissa did was wrong."

  The rocking motion of the carriage had lulled little Christian to sleep, and Alanna relaxed her hold on him slightly. "Yes, and she paid dearly for it. I've not had time to cry for her, but I don't want you to consider me unfeeling."

  The doctor glanced over at Alanna and noted the sweetness of her expression as she studied the sleeping child. "You ought not to get too attached to the boy. Ian won't want him, and I doubt that his grandparents will either. Might be best for all concerned, if he goes to a family that will welcome a child. He's half-white, and with the proper upbringing, his Indian blood might not even be suspected."

  Alanna was aghast at the doctor's words. "How could you even imagine that my aunt and uncle won't want their daughter's child? They took me in when I was orphaned, and treated me as one of their own."

  "You were kin, Alanna."

  "Well, so is Christian! Just look at him. He resembles Melissa as closely as he does his father."

  Moses regarded the infant with scant interest. "All I see is an Indian's bastard, and that's all anyone else is going to see. If you object to finding him a home with white folks, what about giving him to his father to raise? Indians are far more generous in their views, and won't ridicule him for having white blood. The reverse isn't true."

  The thought of handing Melissa's son—or any infant—to Indians to raise was more than Alanna could bear. "That wouldn't please Melissa," she argued.