Farlow’s quietness worked—of course it did, Elijah had used that trick often enough himself to know how effective it was. The young lieutenant had the entire attention of the score or so of men who’d gathered around. “Mrs. Merrifield, are you badly injured?” he asked.
She swallowed and shook her head. Jake’s sobs had almost ceased, and she held him in the circle of one arm while she ran her other hand down her leg. She winced and bit her lip, but she only said, “It’s not too bad, I think. Luisa has a salve.”
Luisa, standing beside her husband, nodded confirmation.
Elijah wasn’t sure how much he trusted Rose’s brave words—burns hurt like hell and could be dangerous. Evidently Farlow shared his concerns, for he frowned and said, “As you will, but if you’ve any doubt, you must go straight to the surgeon.”
At that she managed a tight smile. “No, sir. It may blister a little, but that’s no cause for sawing it off.”
Farlow bit back a laugh. “Have it your way. Now, Private Yonge, do tell us what business you could possibly have had, sneaking uninvited into a new widow’s tent at this hour of the night.”
“We all know what he was there for,” Elijah growled.
“I wouldn’t have raped her,” Yonge protested. “I only wanted to talk to her, before anyone else got a chance, and ask her to show me the jewels.”
“Jewels?” Farlow asked. From the look of blank bafflement on the lieutenant’s face, Elijah reckoned he was trying to work out whether Yonge meant actual gemstones or some bit of lower-orders slang for a woman’s private parts.
Elijah and Rose couldn’t share his confusion. Rose’s eyes widened, and her hand moved from her burned shin to a new spot, just above her knee. If that was where she’d hidden them, no wonder she hadn’t wanted to submit to a surgeon’s examination.
“What jewels?” Elijah demanded. Brazen it out, that was the only way.
Pritchard, one of the men in the group behind Farlow, cleared his throat and spoke up. “Lewis told everyone that as Sam Merrifield was dying he gave you some great fancy necklace with shining red stones to pass on to Rose.”
So, Lewis had blabbed. Doubtless he’d been drunk when he’d done it, and hadn’t meant any harm. Still, when Elijah caught up with him, they’d have words.
“Wait,” Yonge said. “Did you not even tell her? Did you mean to keep them for yourself, you—you—”
“Of course he told me,” Rose protested before Yonge could say something truly unforgivable. “Don’t paint him with your brush.”
Yonge smirked. “I haven’t enough whitewash for that.”
Elijah balled his hands into fists and breathed deeply to keep himself from using them.
Farlow’s voice rang out a little louder than before. “Sergeant Turner, you will see that Private Yonge is confined until daylight, when his assault upon Mrs. Merrifield’s person and destruction of her property shall be addressed. Corporal Cameron, you will be called to bear witness as soon as a court-martial can be arranged.”
“I didn’t assault anyone,” Yonge protested.
“Oh? If anyone set fire to my tent in the dead of night and left me burned, my person would feel assaulted,” Farlow replied. “You’re in a deep enough pit already. I advise you to hold your peace and cease digging deeper.”
Elijah hid a smile. Farlow did have a way with words when he wasn’t obliged to write them down.
At Farlow’s nod, Sergeant Turner took the two stoutest men from the group that had gathered, and they jerked Yonge to his feet and led him away.
Elijah stood, too, brushing at the dust coating his uniform. He’d stopped the flames on Rose’s dress too quickly to be burned himself, but his coat and shirt were singed.
“Mrs. Merrifield,” Farlow said, “if you wish, you may gather your things, and you and your son may pass the rest of your night in my tent, since yours is so damaged. I give you my word you will remain unmolested, in all ways.” He cast a warning gaze around the surrounding audience.
Rose glanced at the charred, soaked remains of her tent and the little pile of gear and bedding she and Jake still sat among. “Thank you, sir.”
At a few more words from Farlow, Elijah and the other assembled soldiers shouldered Rose’s bags and trunks while the lieutenant himself pulled her to her feet and offered her his arm. She winced when she put weight on her bare, burned foot.
“That won’t do,” Farlow murmured. “And I daresay you shouldn’t try shoes or stockings on it.”
He hesitated, and Elijah guessed why. Farlow was barefoot himself, and though wiry, he was slim and slightly built, while Rose was tall for a woman and sturdy and curvy with it.
Evidently Rose saw the problem, too, for a flicker of amusement flashed through her eyes despite her pain and the awkwardness of the situation. “Here, sir,” she said, handing over Jake. “If you wouldn’t mind carrying him.”
“Of course not,” he said, settling the boy awkwardly on his hip.
Rose turned to Elijah and held out her arms. “Please?” she said.
He remembered their kiss, then. He’d almost forgotten, during the fire and its aftermath. Now he swallowed his desire and a few other things and scooped her up in his arms, after passing the trunk he’d been carrying to Pritchard.
“After all this, Rosie,” Pritchard grumbled as he shifted under the weight, “I think you should show us these famous jewels. It’s the least you can do.”
“She doesn’t owe you anything,” Elijah said. She indeed had the necklace clasped above her knee like a garter. He could feel the stones digging into his forearm.
“What foolishness!” Luisa said. “I will show you the jewels.”
The little procession to Lieutenant Farlow’s tent halted in its tracks, and everyone turned to gape at Luisa. But Elijah watched Rose, and her eyes widened with something approaching glee.
Luisa reached into the neck of her dress and pulled out a strand of red beads with a silver cross on the end. A rosary, that was the word. “Here is your treasure. Elijah gave it to Rose as Sam asked, but she did not want to keep it—she said it made her too sad. So I took it. I promised her I will use it when I pray every night for Sam’s soul,” she added piously.
“That’s all?” Pritchard asked.
“Yes, that’s all,” Rose affirmed.
“He said it was a great, shiny thing.”
“Lewis doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Elijah said, making his voice as scathing as possible. “It isn’t as though he’s seen so many fancy jewels in his life.”
“And you have, Corporal?” Farlow quirked an eyebrow at him.
“No, sir, I have not. But I saw this one, and Mrs. Whelan is telling you the truth.” He hoped he sounded convincing.
The lieutenant smiled. “Well, then. Keep that safe, Mrs. Whelan. It is a fine piece, and quite old, by the look of it.”
“I will, sir,” she said, with meekness unusual for her, and the little procession began moving again.
When they reached Farlow’s tent, Elijah carried Rose inside and got her safely tucked into the lieutenant’s narrow cot, with Jake curled against her, weary but determinedly awake. By the time they’d settled her belongings in a corner and agreed that Elijah and Farlow would sleep just outside, Luisa had fetched her pot of salve. She ruthlessly drove the men from her tent, pleading her patient’s modesty, and Elijah and the lieutenant obediently took their bedrolls and departed.
* * *
The burn hurt far worse than Rose had admitted to Lieutenant Farlow, but she hadn’t wanted to draw attention to herself, most especially not to her burned leg. The pain hadn’t ebbed—it had been all she could do not to whimper the entire time Elijah was carrying her to the tent. She didn’t want to frighten Jake any more than he already was, but now she couldn’t stop slow tears from
leaking down her face.
He sat up beside her, frowning in childish worry, and patted her cheeks. “What’s wrong, Mama?”
It was all she could do not to laugh hysterically. What wasn’t wrong? Her husband was dead, the closest thing to a home she possessed had been burned around her, her ankle and shin stung as if she’d stepped into a beehive, and above all she wasn’t safe and now she knew it. Luisa’s lie wasn’t going to be enough to deflect all suspicion. She couldn’t take Jake and the rubies and go home to England, not anymore.
Fortunately Luisa spoke for her. “She has a burn, querido. They hurt very much.”
Jake nodded, accepting this.
“Now, you go to Elijah and wait with him,” Luisa continued. “Then you may come back to our tent with me and spend the night with Fernando...what is left of it.”
“May I, Mama?”
“Yes, dear heart.” It would be a relief, to be spared worry about her son for a few hours. She might even dare to ask Lieutenant Farlow if he had any spirits tucked away in one of his trunks. If she got drunk enough, maybe she could sleep away the worst of the pain.
“Will their tent burn, too?” he asked, his big eyes wide with fear.
“No,” Luisa said firmly. “Your tent burned because a bad man set fire to it, and he’s tied up under guard now. He cannot hurt you again.”
“Oh,” Jake said. He nodded and smiled, satisfied. Rose shook her head. What kind of world was she bringing her son up in? He jumped down from the cot and ran for the tent entrance. Both women waited until they heard his high child’s voice answered by Elijah and Lieutenant Farlow’s deeper adult rumbles, friendly and reassuring.
“Now, let me see,” Luisa said, gently turning up the burned part of Rose’s skirt. “Not as bad as I feared.”
“It hurts like the devil,” Rose said, wiping her eyes.
“Of course it does. It is fire, no? But this will make you feel better.” She opened the little clay pot she’d brought with her and began gently rubbing the salve onto the burns.
Whatever it was—and Rose could pick out the smells of honey and lavender—it did feel cooling and soothing. The pain began to fade to something more like an ordinary cooking burn and less like a horde of stinging bees. “That does help. Thank you.”
Luisa shrugged as she began wrapping a loose bandage over the leg. “De nada.”
“There’s something else I should show you,” Rose said, lowering her voice to a whisper. Since Luisa had boldly stepped into the breach to claim her coral rosary was the treasure Yonge had come to steal, it was only fair she knew the truth. Rose twitched her skirt and petticoat higher, above her knee.
Luisa’s eyes went wide. “Madre de Dios.”
“Why did you say it was the rosary, when you didn’t even know there was anything?”
Luisa tied the bandage in place, then leaned in for a closer view. “No, I knew there was something to set Lewis talking. So I thought, he said red, and my beads are red. I will trick them, and perhaps there will be less trouble.”
Rose reached out to clasp Luisa’s hand. “How can I ever repay you? I owe you too much already.”
“Nonsense,” she murmured briskly. “We are friends. No need to pay. Besides—” She stared at the rubies for one moment more, then tugged Rose’s skirts down to hide them away again. “I do not know if it will be enough.”
Rose shook her head sadly. She’d already thought of that. It might be enough to keep the officers from looking into the matter, but some of the soldiers would still suspect, especially if she declared her intent to go home. “If I’m to keep this safe, I need to marry again.”
“But then it will belong to your husband.”
“I know. I must choose someone I trust completely, and someone strong enough to protect me and Jake.”
“Do you know who that may be?”
Rose lowered her voice to an even softer whisper and glanced at the tent entrance. “The only one I truly trust is Elijah. If he’ll have me.”
Luisa followed her gaze and shrugged. “If? Why would he not? He likes you, I think.”
“Oh, I know he does.” Rose flushed, remembering the kiss. It seemed so long ago already. “But I hadn’t planned to marry again. Because of this necklace, I thought I could go home, and have enough to hire good care for Jake while I got work. I was going to be a cook in a fine house or have my own inn. And Elijah knows that’s what I wanted, because I told him so when he gave me the necklace. Asking him to marry me after that will be a little...uncomfortable.”
Luisa’s eyes widened again. “Yes. But you will manage. Does it bother you, that he is a Negro?”
Luisa was always blunt. Rose had never made up her mind if it was because her friend’s English was less than perfect or if it was her natural personality and equally present in her native tongue. “I worry a little about being stared at,” she admitted. “And it makes me feel...strange, somehow, to think of what my children might look like. I don’t think I would’ve thought of marrying Elijah if all this had happened three years ago. But—he is handsome, isn’t he? Especially when he smiles.”
Luisa grinned. “And big, too.”
This, from the woman who’d married one of the shortest men in the company and seemed entirely happy with her choice. “Luisa!” Rose protested, then winced as a fresh lance of pain shot through her foot.
“I should go and let you sleep. I will come again in the morning.”
“Thank you. And, ah—could you ask Lieutenant Farlow if he might have anything that might dull the pain?”
Luisa promised, and a few minutes later the lieutenant appeared and produced not whiskey or port, but laudanum. Rose eyed the little tumbler of brown liquid warily.
“Don’t worry, it’s a very small dose,” he said. “Only enough to dull the pain and help you rest.”
“How do you know how much to give?” she asked.
“Family experience,” he said with a sad smile. “My father resorted to it, in his last illness. I believe he found it comforting. Trust me, Mrs. Merrifield. A dose or two won’t harm you, and I don’t intend to allow you more.”
She submitted and found that it worked as promised, dulling the pain of body and soul enough that she soon fell into a fitful sleep. Dawn came all too soon, and with it the time to march. Luisa returned, bringing Jake and Fernando, and with her help Lieutenant Farlow and Elijah got Rose’s belongings neatly packed, then bundled her and Jake into a baggage wagon. Luisa and Fernando joined them.
Mercifully, Luisa saw her weariness and what remained of her laudanum-induced haze and did not try to talk much, instead busying herself keeping the boys amused. When Rose was awake and alert enough to think, she considered what she must do. The sooner she settled matters with Elijah the better. How could she make a marriage born of necessity sound like something worth entering into? And what if he said no?
Chapter Five
After a long day’s march, Elijah only wanted to seek out Rose and see how she fared, but instead he found himself summoned to testify at Yonge’s court-martial. Regimental justice was swift and severe, and in this case there was no doubt the accused was guilty. Colonel Dryhurst pronounced a sentence of two hundred lashes, to be carried out the next day, though in reality Elijah knew the punishment would be perhaps half that. The regiment’s surgeon always stood by during a flogging, and when he decreed the prisoner had had enough, the lashes stopped.
“I don’t like flogging,” Lieutenant Farlow commented as he and Elijah left together. “Other armies don’t have it, and it seems a blot on our honor that we haven’t found a better way.”
“I don’t, either,” Elijah admitted. “It’s treating soldiers too much like slaves. But in this case...it’s more merciful than what I’d do to him, if I had the chance.”
“And what is that?�
�
“Fling him into a fire to see how it feels.”
Farlow raised an eyebrow. “Bloodthirsty, for you.”
“He could’ve killed Rose and Jake.”
“Yes...and as soon as he’s fit for duty, he’ll be back in the company. You’ll have to avoid killing him.”
Elijah spoke through gritted teeth. “I’ll manage. I always do.”
“Are you certain you don’t want to court Rose? You’re very protective of her.”
“I’m certain she doesn’t want to marry me.”
“Have it your way.” Farlow shrugged and headed for the tent where the officers were dining.
At last Elijah could look for Rose. He found her outside the Whelans’ tent, seated on a rock with her bandaged foot propped on a rolled-up blanket, calling out instructions to Luisa, who stood at their campfire, stirring something into a pot.
“No, no, not that much salt.” Rose shook her head in exasperation. “Now you’ll need to add more water, or it won’t be fit to eat.”
“Hullo, Rose,” Elijah said. He nodded a greeting to Jemmy, Luisa and the two little boys. “You’re feeling better, I hope.”
“I am,” she said, “and I need to ask something of you, if I may.”
“Yes, please,” Luisa said. “Take her away before she drives me mad, trying to cook with her mouth when she cannot use her hands.”
“If you’d only listen, and taste,” Rose began, then shook her head and looked up at Elijah. “Can we go over there?” She nodded toward the edge of camp. “I can hobble along for a little distance, with this.” She indicated a sturdy walking stick braced in her lap.
“Of course.” He helped her to her feet and hovered at her side, ready to carry her again should she stumble or falter, but she managed, taking his arm again only to lower herself to sit on another stone. He sank to the ground beside her.
“What do you need?” he asked when she did not immediately speak.
Susanna Fraser Page 5