THE CRY FOR FREEDOM (Winds of Betrayal)

by Jerri Hines

  He didn't. “In truth, Miss Corbett,” he said. “I’d been looking for a dance with you when I saw you walk out onto the veranda. But if you’ll give me but a few moments to explain, your grandmother has asked me to perform a small favor.”

  “My grandmother?” her voice softened at the mention. “Do you know her? And what—”

  “Come,” he said, relaxing his grip. “Let’s find a more conventional place to hold our conversation.” He glanced around and added, “I’d hate for us to be found in a compromising situation.”

  His hand reached for her elbow. Not willing to call attention to herself, she allowed his touch. He escorted her up the wide steps of the veranda. Thankful no one seemed to take much notice of her sudden appearance, her confidence returned.

  She turned, facing the stranger. She pushed him back harshly and uttered under her breath. “Don’t hover over me!”

  “Temper, temper,”“ he said lightly. “It would be well to learn to hold it—”

  “Don’t lecture me, Mr. Durham. You have no right. I don’t know you, nor do I care to know you. I find you exceedingly pompous and presumptuous.”

  “Is being impetuous and impulsive any improvement?” he countered. “Doesn’t it occur to you that your rash actions may lead to certain…consequences?”

  “My actions and their consequences are no concern of yours,” she seethed. “I don’t like you or the way you’re doubtless thinking you’re intimidating me! I don’t care if you are here with my uncle. Which, I might add, doesn’t in the least endear you to me.”

  “I might grant that, Miss Corbett,” he shrugged, “but I mentioned earlier, I have a request of you, from your grandmother in New York.”

  “So you mentioned before. What does it concern?”

  “I also know your cousins, Camilla and Susanna,” he went on. “They all send their regards—but your grandmother has sent an invitation to you to visit her in New York, if you choose. You could even return with your uncle and myself.”

  Her eyebrows rose slightly, and she forced a laugh. “I don’t think so. I have other plans. I’ll visit my family in New York in my own time.”

  He took her chin firmly in his hand and tilted her face up to his. For an instant, he stared deep into her eyes. Then he uttered under his breath, “You have the most beautiful, unusual blue eyes.”

  Shock vibrated through her, and she drew back. When she had collected herself she said, “Mr. Durham, for someone I don’t know, you’re taking far too many liberties….”

  “Please, my name is Marcus,” he broke in with a grin.

  “Marcus, then,” she conceded, but added bluntly, “I have no intention of going to my grandparents’ at this time.”

  “Does it not interest you that they could give you many advantages you don’t have here? They have considerable wealth…” His tone changed to a more serious in nature. He watched, studying her reaction.

  Her mouth curved upward in a knowing smile, and she couldn’t help but laugh. “They could find me a rich husband—is that what you’re implying?”

  “You find that amusing?”

  She eyed him, her lips curled in scorn. “Do you think that’s what I’m looking for? Or that’s what I should be looking for?” She waved a hand. “I find I don’t care for this conversation. I don’t like you or what you may consider your methods of persuasion. I’m where I’m supposed to be—here. This is what I love—my freedom. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. And, Marcus, I’m not poor. I have all I want or need.”

  “Oh, Hannah, there you are! And you, Mr. Durham…” Mother Agnes’ voice burst through the open air. She advanced to Hannah's side and took her arm. She looked from the stranger to her stepdaughter and back, exhaling with exasperation. “Hannah, no one knew where you had disappeared to. We’re about to sit for supper.…”

  “Then,” Marcus interjected, “let me escort both you lovely ladies to the table.”

  Hannah stared at her stepmother. Mother Agnes was flustered. Comprehension dawned upon her. Mother Agnes was acquainted with this disturbing man.

  Blustered, Mother Agnes answered, “I believe my husband—”

  Marcus held up a hand, and then laid his arm out for Hannah to accept. “Then it would seem Miss Corbett has no escort. It would be my pleasure to assume that role.”

  He shifted his position, blocking Mother Agnes’ view and plucked a twig from Hannah’s unruly hair. He flashed an irritating smile he evidently thought so charming. Hannah wanted to slap it off his face. She had no desire for more of his company. A protest sat upon her lips. Instead with a frown, she accepted his arm.

  Chapter Two

  Morning dawned, a glorious sunrise. The reddish tinge reflecting off the scattered clouds promised a brilliant day. Hannah watched it from her bedroom window. A peaceful night’s sleep had eluded her. Last night’s experiences replayed constantly in her head every time she closed her eyes.

  A knock on her door disturbed her thoughts. Without waiting for a reply, it opened. Mary, one of her father's house blacks, brought in Hannah’s breakfast tray.

  “Good mornin’, Miss Hannah,” Mary said merrily with her broad, bright smile. “Mist’ Corbett tole me ya’ mite feel like takin’ yo’ breakfast in yo’ room this mornin’. She done tole me ya’ woulda sleep late, but I knew. I knew ya’ be up.”

  “I'm not hungry, Mary.”

  “Are ya sure, 'cause it’s warm? Jinnie jus’ made ‘em.” Mary sat the tray down on the table beside Hannah’s bed.

  Hannah turned her head to Mary and curved her lips slightly upward. “You can eat it if you want, Mary.”

  “Ya sure, Miss Hannah?” Mary said. Instantly the fork dug into the eggs and went to her mouth. “Don’t wanna to take ‘em if ya’ want ‘em,” she mumbled as she chewed. “Jinnie will slap me silly.”

  “I'm fine,” Hannah sighed.

  Mary, only a couple of years older than Hannah, loved to talk more than work, according to Hannah’s father; that was, in truth, why she’d managed to come to Hannah’s home. Her father bought her from a plantation owner who, in Father’s opinion, had abused her with a whip. Hannah shuddered to think about it.

  When they’d discussed the subject, Mary had told Hannah, “Don’t let it bodder ya’, Miss Hannah. Yer fader is a great man, yesum. He took me. Mr. Warren warned ‘em. Said I was no good, lazy. Look at me today—all thanks to yer fader.”

  Just seconds later, Mary put the fork down on the near-empty plate. She said, “Gimme me a sec’ and I getca’ dressed. Ya’ looked so beautiful last night. Ya’ did. Sham’ Mr. Gabriel didn’t see ya’ all dressed up like ya’ were. But Jinnie said ya’ get in trouble anyway, says trouble follows some folks, you bein’ one ‘em. That's what Jinnie said. What did ya’ do this time? Mist’ Corbett's in a bad mood.…”

  “Why do you always assume it has to do with me?” Hannah frowned.

  “Cause it always does!” Mary giggled. “Member time ya’ left before it was yer turn to play—”

  “The harpsichord?”

  “Yas’um. An’ Mist’ Corbett spent the rest of the night looking for ya and found ya’ in the barn with a litter of kittens? Or how ‘bout when ya’ hid up in the balconey with yo’ young cousins an’ Mr. Gabriel sat with ya’—”

  “That's enough, Mary,” Hannah said defensively. “Nobody wanted to listen to me butcher an otherwise beautiful song.”

  “Well, if ya hadn't played hooky during ya’ lessons, maybe ya could have played it. That's what Mist’ Corbett said. Ain’ so bad like ya gettin' caught on the stairs in Mast’ Gabriel's arms—”

  “It was William who found me, and if he hadn't yelled, no one would have taken notice. Besides, it was only Mother Agnes,” Hannah said blushing wildly at the memory. If only Gabriel had been there last night, I wouldn’t have had such an infuriating evening. And would never have endured that insufferable man’s kiss…

  “Well, Miss Hannah, ya asked, and I tole ya’ what I heard ‘em, and I hear
lots.” Mary grinned broadly and picked the fork up again with her mouth wide open.

  “Mary,” Hannah reprimanded, “please swallow before you speak.”

  Mary took the glass of milk intended for Hannah and gulped it down. “Guess then ya don’t want to know that I heard Mast’ Corbett is sending ya’ out to Mount Fairview.…”

  “Really?” Hannah exclaimed. This was the best news she’d had in weeks. She loved Mount Fairview, and the fact that Summit Hill, Gabriel's home, sat only a few miles up the river added to her pleasure. Her vigor renewed, she almost danced away from the window.

  “Then let’s pack this instant. I don’t want to wait one minute. Gabriel’s supposed to return within the fortnight— or at least that’s what he wrote in his last letter. Then Jonathan will return, too. This is going to be—”

  “Stop yer ramblin’, Miss Hannah,” Mary cried. “Don’t go gettin' me in trouble cause I tole ya’. And yer fader tole me when yer dressed he wants to see ya’ in his study. Figure ya must be in some kinda trouble.”

  “Not that I know of, and I usually know what I’ve done.…” Hannah said emphatically, but then she paused for a moment.

  He couldn't have seen her outside the study's window. No, he would have reprimanded her last night, not waited ‘til this morning.

  She pushed back her curtains allowing the sunlight to break in. This was going to be a glorious day!

  ****

  Forgetting all that had plagued her during the night, Hannah dashed down the stairs, heedless of Mary’s words trailing her while she ran out her bedroom door. “Don’t think yer father wants ya’ down there jus’ yet…”

  Oh, pooh! Hannah thought. Why wouldn’t he? But before her foot reached the last stair, she heard voices carrying along the foyer from the dining room, and she paused. A visitor for breakfast?

  She made her way again, more slowly. She turned the corner of the foyer and saw her father sitting at the head of the table, deep in conversation. At his side sat William with Lydia. All seemed normal until another voice spoke out.

  “I can’t see how one can live like this. Consider the straggling street you live on—ankle deep in dust. I thought I’d choke to death walking on it. I can only imagine what it’s like after a rain, not to mention the animals…”

  “No one forced you to come, Richard,” said Father sharply. “I assume you are comfortable at Tazewell Hall. The Randolph’s—”

  “Oh, you’re quite right, John. Quite right, but you know me, a man of business, purely. I wanted only to ask before we leave for Charles Town about Hannah. We’re coming back through in a couple of months. That should be sufficient enough time to make arrangements.”

  Hannah froze in her step. Hadn’t Mother Agnes said nothing good comes from eavesdropping? But her father would never send her North like this.

  “I told you before, Richard,” her father said firmly, “it’s a closed issue.”

  “I know your view of it, but Mrs. Clay isn’t in the best of health, and she wants only to see Hannah. What harm could come from a short visit? With my two girls roughly the same age, they’d make fine companions for her. Who’s she going to meet here? Granted, she is a beauty. She has the look of her mother. How can you deny your only daughter the privileges her grandparents can provide?”

  Even from her vantage point Hannah saw her father’s face reddened, rage simmered within him. He drew in a deep breath, trying Hannah realized with the greatest of effort to contain himself. “I’ve denied Hannah nothing that she needs, Richard. And if it was your mission to take her back with you, you’ve failed. She’ll never return to New York.”

  William laughed, but he didn’t let the moment’s stress relax. He said, “If you only knew our Hannah, Uncle, I’m sure you’d agree that she belongs here. I can’t envision her living anywhere but Williamsburg.”

  “But isn’t that the very heart of the issue?” Richard’s voice crackled in Hannah’s ears. “I mean, not to listen to gossip, but has she not been given, how can I say this—too much freedom here. I’m certain…”

  “Richard, enough!” Father’s fist struck the table. “I don’t go to your home and tell you how to raise your daughters. I’m quite certain you maintain your household adequately, but this discussion is at an end.”

  Any response her uncle then gave, Hannah couldn’t hear. She heard Lydia break in with polite-toned questions about her aunt’s health. How Hannah wished she were more like Lydia—calm, thoughtful, content with all around her, and now more than ever, since the announcement that a new Corbett would soon be appearing.

  So perfectly matched were Lydia and William! William lacked the bold, enterprising spirit that Jonathan, her middle brother, had been born with, but William was a dutiful son with an apt understanding and hand for machinery. At one time, he’d wanted to go into the printing business, but in the end, with Jonathan becoming a physician, William had chosen to stay with his father and attend to family business.

  Though if political currents boiling now escalated, William would feel it his duty to join the militia. Before Gabriel departed for Philadelphia he’d told her Patrick Henry had been named commander of the First Virginia Continental Regiment, and more men would need to be dispatched.

  “Richard,” her father’s voice rose loudly, “I have made my position perfectly clear!”

  Boisterously, Richard replied, “And I don’t believe you understand the situation at all, brother! You’re disgracing Emily’s memory, and Mr. Clay will sit still for it no longer! Mrs. Clay has never been the same since the day her daughter ran off with you. And look at Hannah—people are laughing at her and her antics. Scandalous and outrageous!”

  Hannah held her breath, for any second she expected her father’s wrath to rain down full force on her uncle. How dare he!

  Mother Agnes pushed back her chair, which scratched harshly across her lauded, shining wooden floor leaving long, dark scrap marks. The small woman, tiny, petite in manner and nature, brought herself up to full height, eyes blazing—this woman who had never lifted her voice to anyone, who so doughty undertook the enormous task of raising an unruly daughter—who, Hannah had to admit, had never made that job easy.

  “Leave!” Mother Agnes pointed toward the front door. Her voice resounded throughout the house. “This minute! You are no longer welcome in these walls.”

  Hannah stared at her horrid uncle. Not a handsome man, his pants sat too tight around his waist, from which his frame overflowed. Balding, his pudgy face strained, so much so that a vein throbbed in his forehead. Frazzled, he said, “It may well be that you don’t appreciate the truth in my words—”

  Waving her finger at the stunned man, Mother Agnes cried, “Understand mine, you wretched man! Out of my house! Now! You will not utter words in such a manner about my daughter. You have been our guest and I politely sat back, but you are a guest here no more. You know nothing about Hannah!

  “You yourself have spread gossip. I know it since I’ve heard your ramblings! And understand this clearly-there is no mother alive so proud of her daughter as I am of Hannah! She is kind and feels intensely; she’s fiercely loyal and passionate. She doesn’t need New York to be refined. She is perfect!”

  William stood up and walked around behind his uncle’s seat. He waved his arm toward the door. “It might be well if you left now, Uncle,” he said quietly.

  Utter silence ensued. The hateful man stomped out of the room. Slowly, Hannah made her way in. “Father?” she questioned.

  “Hannah,” her father uttered, turning to face his daughter. The tense lines in his face eased slightly with her appearance. “Go to my study and wait.”

  “But, Father—” she protested.

  Hannah didn’t notice Mother Agnes approach her until she felt her stepmother’s hands touch her arms.

  Mother Agnes said softly, “Come, my dear. There’s no need for you to stay here.”

  Instinctively, Hannah reached for her mother’s hand. Mother Agnes clasped it,
looking tenderly upon her. Hannah returned her look, never had she felt closer to the only mother she had ever known.

  * * * *

  Her father walked into his study and closed the door firmly behind him. Looking at his only daughter, his face softened.

  Hannah smiled, though she sat trying desperately to keep her knees from trembling. Only a moment ago Mother Agnes had left her, whispering in Hannah’s ear, “I believe this day will make you happy. Your father has given it much thought. Listen carefully to him, Hannah, and I believe you’ll like the words he’s about to speak.”

  Hannah’s face lit instantly. Gabriel— it must be! Hannah hugged her mother tightly.

  “Don’t begin celebrating yet,” Mother Agnes chided Hannah gently, but in her eyes Hannah saw hope and promise.

  Hannah stood up quickly and ran to her father, grasping hold of his hand. She leaned upward and kissed his cheek. His hand went to her face.

  “You look more like your mother every day,” he sighed wistfully. “She, also, would have been so proud of the woman you have become. Where has the time gone?”

  “Into the wind,” Hannah responded. “That’s what Jinnie’s said for years.”

  Her father stared into Hannah’s eyes. “I sense you have an inkling of what I want to speak with you about.”

  Shrugging slightly and biting her bottom lip, she answered, “I have hopes.”

  “Child, child, please sit,” he said. He leaned back against his desk and added, “I’m certain Gabriel has mentioned that he’s talked with me. I confess I’ve hesitated over his request, for in truth, my dear, I’m not certain he has a firm enough hand for you.”

  Hannah pressed her lips together anxiously. “But, Father—”

  He raised a hand for her silence. “Listen to me first, Hannah. You don’t know what I’m about to say.”

  She nodded and took in a deep breath. She pressed her hands upon her skirt. Her heart fluttered wildly while her father spoke. Gabriel had asked, and her father, despite his hesitation, was giving his consent!

  Father said, “I asked him only to wait a year—not too long, I think. You’re both young yet—you’re barely seventeen, Hannah.”