A Leap of Faith (The Hands of Time: Book 2) (14 page)

Louisa woke up some time in the middle of the night to find the bed empty and cold.  Kit wasn’t due on the bridge until 8 a.m., so he had to be around somewhere.  She pulled aside the heavy bed hangings and looked around the dim cabin.  Kit was sitting with his back to the desk, facing the row of windows, his feet propped up on the low bookshelf built into the wall beneath the windows.  He was bathed in moonlight, which gave him a bluish tint.  Louisa couldn’t see his face, but she could see the tension of his posture.  He didn’t look like a man simply enjoying the beautiful view of a moonlit ocean.

“Kit?  Are you all right?”  Louisa threw her legs over the side of the bed, ready to go to him, but his words froze her to the spot.

“Who was he, Louisa?” His voice was low, angry.  She knew this would come up.  No man of this time could overlook a lover. 

“Who are you referring to?”  She knew full well, but needed to hear it from him.

“The man you loved so dearly, that you were willing to lie with him without the benefit of marriage.”  He didn’t look at her, but continued to stare out of the window, tense and cold.

“He was someone I knew when I was very young.  It was in a different
place and a different time.  Why does it suddenly matter, when only a few hours ago you said you didn’t care about my past?”  Louisa felt a heavy weight drop into the pit of her stomach.  Her modern mind wanted to rage at him, to tell him to mind his own business, and just get over it, but her heart suddenly felt very fragile.  His opinion of her mattered greatly, and she wanted to go to him and tell him that the past, or in this case, the future, didn’t matter.  That Doug was out of her heart, and he was the only one she wanted.  She admired his sense of honor, and wanted him to think of her as an honorable woman, not some cheap trollop who would fall into bed with any man she found attractive. 

Kit slowly turned around, his eyes bottomless pools of blackness in the moonlight spilling from the window.  His face was bleached of all color, nearly as white as his shirt.

“It matters because I’ve never felt what I am feeling now.  Helena loved me since she was a child, and I never had cause to doubt her.  I had been her first, and only, lover.  I never knew what jealousy was until tonight.  My insides are twisted into a knot, burning and writhing, leaving me breathless with my own helplessness.”  He made no move to rise, but Louisa could sense the coiled up tension emanating from him.

“Kit, I can’t take back the past.  I understand if you withdraw your offer of marriage.”  Louisa turned to lift her gown off the floor
, but Kit was next to her in a moment, grabbing her by the shoulders, and turning her to face him.

“
Louisa, you misunderstand me.  I am not withdrawing my offer.  I am simply consumed with doubt that you will ever love me the way you loved him, and that he’ll always be uppermost in your heart.  I want you to love me that way.  I need you to love me that way.”  His eyes were pleading with her, filling her heart with tenderness.  He was insecure, not angry.  What babies men were, in any age.

“Kit, you needn’t compare yourself to him.  He’s gone from my life, and from my heart.  He might’ve been my first, but I want you to be my last.  I love you.”  She didn’t even know it herself until she spoke the words out loud, but they felt so right, so true.  She lifted her face to his kiss, tasting relief in joy on his lips.

Alec watched as Mr. Thorpe applied the planks to Finn’s leg and bound them with linen strips to hold them in place.  Finn screamed like a girl when Mr. Thorpe set the bone, but it had to be done.  Thankfully, his leg was broken in only one place and would heal cleanly.  Mr. Thorpe was one of the indentured servants who worked the land, but he had been a barber-surgeon back in England, and was the closest thing Alec could get to a physician on such short notice.  He wanted to ride into Jamestown to get Dr. Gideon, but Bridget assured him that wasn’t necessary.  The labor was progressing normally, and despite Valerie’s periodic screams, there was no cause for alarm. 

“I am all right now, Father.  You should get some rest.”  Finn lay back against the pillows, his eyes already far away in dreamland.  He was exhausted by his ordeal.  Alec thought it was
interesting how he went from calling him “Daddy” in the cave, to “Dad” on the way back, and now went back to “Father.”   Sometimes he wished that Finn was a little more affectionate toward him, but he was almost a man, and probably felt awkward about calling him “Daddy”, the way he did when he was a little boy.  Alec kissed him on the forehead and left the room.  He needed a bath, a meal, and some sleep, but the latter would have to wait until he knew that his wife was delivered safely.

Alec didn’t feel like waiting for Amelia to heat and bring water for a bath, so he walked down to the lake and stripped off his clothes.  He was far enough from the house not to shock anyone with his nudity.  The water felt wonderful
, and he allowed himself a quick swim before he took the bar of soap from the bank and washed away the grime and sweat of the past few days.  He would stop by the kitchen on his way back, then check on Valerie.  She had been in labor since morning, and he hoped her ordeal would be over soon. 

Alec
got out of the lake reluctantly, pulled on some clean clothes, and scooped the filthy garments off the ground.  The cool breeze ruffled his wet hair, as he walked back to the house, oblivious to the chirping of crickets and the croaking of frogs.  Mrs. Dolly took the dirty clothes from him, dished out some leftover rabbit stew and cider to tide him over until supper, and sent him on his way.

Alec could hear Valerie moan as he approached the bedroom door.  He
sent up a silent prayer and crossed himself before knocking on the door and poking his head in.  “May I come in?” 

“She is nearly there, Mr. Alec,
” Bridget replied.  “Ye should stay and help her.  Yer presence always calms her.”

Valerie looked tired and sweaty, but she smiled when she looked at him.  “Help me, Alec.  Get behind me
and hold me while I push.”  Alec did as he was told and held Valerie against him, feeling the tension coursing through her body.  He was instantly transported to the night of Louisa’s birth, but he put the memory out of his mind.  This was different.  The baby was in the right position, and it would be just a matter of time before it was born.  It took another hour of pushing, but Bridget finally eased the infant out of Valerie and laid it on the bed to clean.  Valerie slumped against Alec, exhausted and relieved.

“Is it a boy or a girl, Bridget?  Why isn’t it crying?”  Valerie raised her head to peer at the baby and gasped.  The baby was the size of a loaf of bread, wrinkled and bluish.  No sounds came from its small form
as Bridget was bent over its tiny body, trying to breathe some air into its lungs.  She looked up at Valerie, her eyes full of sorrow.  Bridget shook her head and looked away.  Alec tightened his arms around Valerie, as she let out a horrible wail that tore through his heart. 

“I am so sorry, Mrs. Whitfield,” Bridget said through her own tears.  “He just came too early.  He
was not ready for this world.”  Valerie was crying softly, her hands covering her face.  Alec’s vision blurred as the tears came.  He couldn’t help wondering if the baby would have lived had Finn not chosen this particular time to worry his mother.

“I want to hold him, Bridget,” Valerie said quietly.  She reached out her arms for the baby, taking him carefully from Bridget and holding him close. 

“He looks like he’s sleeping, doesn’t he?” she asked Alec.  “So peaceful.”  The baby did look peaceful.  His lips were stretched into a little smile, as if he didn’t just go through the ordeal of birth.  He was small, but perfectly formed, with rounded cheeks and a button nose that never drew air.  Valerie cupped his head, which was covered in dark fuzz. 

“I wonder what color his eyes were,” she said.  “Now we’ll never know.”

“Valerie, let Bridget tend to him.  You need to rest,” Alec knew it was useless, but he had to try.

“No.  I want to be with him for a while before he
’s taken from me.  I want to remember what he looks like.  Please bring me some paper and a piece of charcoal.  I’d like to draw him while I can, so that I can always remember his face.”

They buried the baby two days later.  Alec was devastated because the baby hadn’t been baptized, but Valerie did not believe in Limbo, or Heaven, or Hell for that matter.  She couldn’t tell him that.  Alec’s faith was much stronger than her own, having grown up in the seventeenth century and with a priest in the house.  Alec’s mother kept her own priest while she was alive; to tend to her family’s spiritual needs, despite the terrible discrimination against Catholics.  The family went to Protestant Mass on Sundays, then held their own Mass at home.  There was no Catholic priest anywhere near Rosewood Manor, but Alec did his best to keep the traditions alive.  He was usually the one to perform the funeral services, since he was the head of the family following Thomas Whitfield’s death. 

Alec read the funeral service, but had to stop several times to regain his composure.  They named the baby Alexander Thomas
, and his pine cross looked very small and forlorn as Alec drove it into the ground.  Finn cried as he stood by the tiny grave, supported by Charles.  Valerie knew he felt responsible for his brother’s death, but there was nothing she could do to soothe him.  She didn’t have any comfort to give at the moment.

Bridget wanted to prepare Alexander for burial, but Valerie wouldn’t let her.  She held him for hours
, before finally washing him clean, and putting a lacy white gown on him with a matching bonnet.  She had been planning to use them for his christening, but now he’d be buried in them instead.  She wondered when exactly when he died, since he was still moving in her womb the day she went into labor. 
My poor little boy
, she thought. 
How I would have loved you
.

Valerie
looked over at Louisa, whose eyes were puffy from crying.  Louisa clung to Bridget during the funeral service, but broke away and hurled herself at Valerie, burying her face in Valerie’s skirt.  Valerie wrapped her arms around her daughter, holding her close.  This was the first death that really mattered to her.  She had been fond of Cora, but she didn’t take it as badly as the loss of her baby brother. 

“Come on, darling.  Let’s go back to the house.  Baby Alexander is with God now.  He is happy.  I promise you.”  Valerie couldn’t say she really believed that, but she knew it would make Louisa feel better. 

“Are you sure, Mama?  He hadn’t been baptized.  Papa said it was important.” 

“Don’t worry.  God loves babies, even if they weren’t baptized.  Alexander is with the angels now, looking down on us and
wishing for us not to be sad.”  Louisa nodded in agreement.  She wanted to believe, that and she did.

Charles accepted a glass of brandy from Captain Smith and took a sip, enjoying the aroma of the liquor.  The
Morning Star
would be sailing on the morning tide; its cargo hold full of timber for His Majesty’s Navy.  Trade with England had nearly ceased at one point, but things were picking up again since England needed wood to build ships.  The vessel would come back in a few months, bringing back much-needed supplies for the colonists.  The
Misty Dawn
now sailed between Virginia and the West Indies, bringing back spices, molasses and rum. 

Charles enjoyed going to the port to oversee loading and unloading.  Finlay used to do that a lot when he was alive
, and Charles felt like he was following in his brother’s footsteps.  He always took a glass of port or brandy with the captains, catching up on the latest news and gossip.  Alec had been devoting more of his time to the planting of tobacco, delegating more of the shipping to Charles.  The tobacco had been planted in spring and was now flowering, leaving Alec free, but the death of the baby took its toll, so Alec left Charles take care of business. 

“How have you been
, Captain Smith?  Any adventures on this last voyage?”

The captain was tall and thin
, with a pointy white beard and rheumy blue eyes.  He looked more tired every time he came into port.  The man had to be in his sixties by now.  He had been the captain of the
Morning Star
for at least twenty years.

“Not on this voyage, thankfully.  I tell you, Mr. Whitfield, sailing
has become a very dangerous business.  The Barbary pirates used to pillage the Mediterranean Coast, but they’re now coming as far as the North Atlantic.  They’ve learned shipbuilding techniques from those damn Dutch and are building stronger, faster ships.  There are more attacks than ever.  The slave trade is booming in North Africa.”

“Yes, I know.  Captain Horace of the
Misty Dawn
tells me that it’s booming in the West Indies as well.  The slave markets are a huge draw for merchants from all parts of the world.  I fear it won’t be long before they are trying to bring African slaves here to America.”  Charles had heard detailed accounts of the slave auctions on the islands and was partly curious, partly horrified.

“I can’t see that happening, Mr. Whitfield.  What kind of decent white folk would want to own African slaves? 
Who could afford them anyway?  Most of these colonists are barely scratching out a living as is.  Sure, there are some wealthy people, but they seem content to buy the indentured servants.  It profits both servant and master, and at least they gain their freedom at the end of their contract.  What would happen if the Negro slaves were set free?  Would they be free men?  That’s preposterous.”

“I take your point, Captain Smith.  Now, how are things in England?”

“Much the same, Mr. Whitfield.  The King is at odds with Parliament, but at least he hasn’t dragged us into any wars recently.  I tell you, Mr. Whitfield, I am getting weary in my old age.  I have a small cottage outside of Plymouth.  My widowed sister keeps it for me.  I long to retire there, maybe find a good woman to marry.  I’ve been a widower these past fifteen years.  Might be time to find a companion for my old age.”  The captain finished his drink and rose to his feet.  It was a signal that it was time for Charles to leave. 

“I hope your dream comes to fruition, Captain.  I’ll just let myself out.”

“Please give my regards and condolences to Mr. Alec and Mrs. Whitfield.”

“I most certainly will, Captain Smith. 
Good day to you.”

Charles retrieved his horse from the public house and set out for home.  He
considered paying a visit to Janet, but changed his mind.  He was in no mood to deal with her little brat.  At least he was asleep at night, but if he visited now, the child would be up and about and full of energy. 

Charles used to visit Janet
regularly since the age of sixteen, but he’d hardly been there the past year.  Janet lost her husband nearly two years ago, selling her favors to supplement her meager income from taking in sewing.  Truth be told, she began to whore long before her husband died, wanting a bit of company while he was at sea.  Janet had her son to take care of, and Charles often gave her an extra coin or two, or brought her some rabbits or venison for the pot.  He was relieved to know that the boy wasn’t his.  Janet claimed he was her husband’s, and he chose to believe her.

Charles adjusted his hat to shield his face from the hot sun and trotted down the road to Rosewood.  He was in no rush.  It was a beautiful day
, and he had no reason to hurry home.  There was nothing waiting for him there, except gloom.  He wished Cora was still alive.  He really missed her.  Cora came to Rosewood Manor eighteen months ago with her sister, Amelia.  Charles noticed Amelia first.  She was like a paler version of Annabel Gaines, blond and blue-eyed with a lovely, trim figure.  He tried to talk to Amelia or give her the occasional trinket, but the girl would get spooked and run from the room, her eyes averted, her cheeks flaming.  After a month of two Charles gave up.  He had no desire to force his attentions on anyone. 

Cora
was different from her sister.  She was dark-haired and dark-eyed, with an impish smile and quick wit.  She always had a sweet smile for Charles, and gladly accepted a ribbon for her hair or pretty buttons for her frock.  Charles enjoyed their flirtation and waited for the right moment to make his move.  At sixteen, Cora was undoubtedly a maiden, and he didn’t want to frighten her off.  There was time aplenty.  He enjoyed the chase as much as he enjoyed the conquest. 

Cora came to him soon enough. 
It was last summer. She waited for Amelia to fall asleep, then crept to his room in her nightdress and shawl.  Charles was excited.  He’d never had a virgin before, and took his time getting her ready.  He kissed her and caressed her until she was melting like butter on warm bread.  She whimpered sweetly when he took her maidenhead, and didn’t carry on or cry.  Their meetings became regular after that.  Cora took to sex like a fish to water.  She couldn’t get enough.  Sometimes she actually managed to shock Charles.  She would come into a room when he was alone, and flash him a breast or touch his cock.  Once she actually turned around and lifted her skirts to her waist, shaking her sweet little bottom at him. Charles nearly lost it there and then.  He followed her to the spring house, where Cora sank to her knees and sucked him until he spilled himself into her mouth. 

Yes, he missed Cora.  He had been crazed with jealousy when he saw her follow Alec into the stables
, and then again into his study a few weeks ago.  He snuck into the study that night, to see if he could find any evidence of their tryst, but there was nothing that he could see.  Was he sharing her with his brother?  He had never known Alec to trifle with the help, but then again, with his wife pregnant, he was probably living a monk’s existence.  Charles had no idea if people were allowed to copulate during pregnancy, but he figured Alec was too much of a gentleman to trouble his wife while she was with child. 

Charles showered Cora with little gifts and always took care not to get her
pregnant.  He didn’t want to bring disgrace upon her or ruin her life.  She would want to marry some day and there was no need to ruin her reputation.  He wasn’t sure if Amelia knew of their trysts, but he hoped not.  She wouldn’t approve, that was for sure.

Charles jumped off his horse and picked some wildflowers that grew on the side of the road.  He would stop by the cemetery and lay some flowers on Cora’s grave. 
He would put some on Alexander’s as well.