Defiant (38 page)

Connor handed it to him, knowing he wished to view his men. “They can fight better than those bonnie lasses you call warriors.”

Joseph chuckled. “It is good to see you acting yourself again brother.”

Connor scowled at his Mahican brother.

Joseph handed the spying glass back. “You will see her again. If it is the will of the Shining Spirit, we will both see her again.”

W
illiam read Amherst’s latest dispatches, idly rubbing the cracked black king between his finger and his thumb, the marble warm and smooth from his touch. In the next room, Sarah played from the printed music he’d bought for her, the sound pleasing, adding a touch of civilization William hadn’t realized he’d missed these past years.

There came a knock at his door.

“Enter.”

Lieutenant Cooke appeared with a bow. “Lady Sarah’s maid wishes to speak with you, my lord. She says it is a matter of great urgency.”

William looked up from his letters, wondering what business a lady’s maid might have that could possibly be urgent. A need for more shoes? Stains? An infestation of moths? He tucked the marble chess piece into the pocket of his coat. “By all means, send her in.”

Cooke stepped aside, motioned the woman in, closing the door behind her.

The woman approached, her lips pressed into a flat line, her hands folded tightly in her skirts. She gave a perfunctory curtsy, watching him warily. “My lord.”

William struggled to recall her name. “You wish to see me about Lady Sarah?”

“Yes, my lord.” She drew herself up to her full height. “I have been in your employ for a month now.”

“Is that so?” Good heavens! Was she already seeking a rise in pay?

“Yes, my lord.” She seemed to hesitate. “During that time, your niece has yet to bleed.”

It took a moment for the meaning of the woman’s words to hit William. “Do you mean to say that Sarah has not had her monthly since your arrival?”

“Yes, my lord.” The woman’s face told William there was more. “For the past two weeks, she has been throwing up every morning, though she tries hard to hide it from me, hurrying outside to the privy. She cannot hold her breakfast, yet her waist has begun to thicken and her breasts to swell. I know the signs, my lord.”

The blood drained from William’s head. “What are you saying, woman? Are you telling me my niece is with child?”

There was fear in the woman’s eyes. “Yes, my lord.”

William’s mind raced to fathom how this could be. Her letters pleading to allow her to leave Governor DeLancey’s. Her ordeal with the Indians.

If the old woman was right, either someone in the governor’s household had taken advantage of Sarah’s innocence—most unlikely—or Katakwa had ravished her before MacKinnon had been able to rescue her. In either case, Sarah had kept it secret.

But then what gently bred lady wouldn’t keep such a shameful thing secret, especially when her name was already tarnished by scandal?

William had feared this. He ought to have followed his instincts and had Dr. Blake examine her—a mistake he would rectify presently.

He must have been scowling because the lady’s maid looked as if she feared he might strike her.

“I-It is my duty to care for her in all matters of the body and—”

William willed a look of calm onto his face, reaching into his drawer and removing several sovereigns. “You were right to come to me, and you shall be rewarded for your good service—and your silence. Do you understand?”

He rose, towering over her, gazing pointedly into her eyes.

She held out her hands, took the coins. “Yes, my lord. I shall say nothing to anyone. Nor will I reveal to Lady Sarah that I have spoken to you.”

“I shall hold you to your word, madam.” William fully meant the threat implied by the tone of his voice. If she said but a word to anyone…

The woman paled, but her bony chin came up. “Yes, my lord.”

William dismissed her, his hand finding its way back into his coat pocket, his fingers closing around the black king, his mind racing again.

Sarah with child? What in God’s name was he supposed to do?

From the other side of the wall came the sweet sound of Sarah’s playing. Did
she
know she was with child? She certainly hadn’t given the appearance of being distressed. But then he hadn’t known she’d been ill either. Why would she seek to conceal her trouble from him? Pregnancy was not a problem that would go away, nor one she could face on her own. Surely, she understood that.

Then again, she was very young and innocent in the ways of the world. He couldn’t even be certain she understood the connection between what had been done to her and her present condition—if, indeed, she was truly with child.

William called for Lieutenant Cooke. “Go at once to the hospital and fetch Dr. Blake. See to it personally, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Dr. Blake would know her true condition. And if it turned out that she was with child, William would force the truth from her and kill the man responsible.

S
arah sipped her tea, praying her stomach would not revolt and trying to think through her plan. It was the only way she could think of to get a message to Connor without rousing
suspicions. Connor would surely refuse to accept another invitation to dinner, even if Uncle William agreed to host another party. Sarah could not visit Ranger Island—it was simply out of the question. Nor could she simply write him a message and ask Lieutenant Cooke to have it delivered. There was too great a chance someone would read it. And what excuse could she make for wishing to write to him?

Uncle William interrupted her thoughts. “You do not seem hungry this morning. Are you feeling well, my dear?”

Startled by his question, Sarah smiled. “Quite well, thank you.”

Was it her imagination, or did he seem to be studying her?

She held her smile. “I’ve been thinking, Uncle. It is surely inappropriate for me to continue wearing wampum. I am most grateful to Captain Joseph for all he’s done for me, and I have no desire to offend him, but I should like to return his necklace.”

Uncle William’s eyebrows lifted a notch. “Very well. Give me the wampum, and I’ll see it returned—with our thanks, of course.”

“I should like to return it myself.” When she handed Joseph the band of shells, there would be a note on paper, curled tightly and woven amongst the beads. Joseph would find it, read it, and he would get word to Connor.

“We can arrange for that when Captain Joseph returns. He, Major MacKinnon, and their men are on a ten-day training scout to Crown Point. I expect them to return within seven or eight days.”

And Sarah’s already queasy stomach fell.

Seven or eight days!

Would her belly be showing by then?

She willed herself to smile. “Thank you, Uncle.”

There was a knock at the door.

“Come.” Uncle William stood as a bespectacled older man with bushy white eyebrows entered. “Dr. Blake, thank you for coming. Please allow me to introduce my niece, Lady Sarah Woodville. Sarah, I asked Dr. Blake to come because I am concerned about you. In the month you’ve been here at Fort Edward, you’ve not had your flux. I fear more may have happened to you in the forest than you felt you could tell me. For your sake, I must know the truth.”

Sarah’s heart gave a thud, the rush of her own pulse drowning out her thoughts, the teacup slipping from her hand to shatter on the floor.

S
arah sat in Uncle William’s study, feeling both terrified for Connor’s sake and utterly and completely shamed, her body shaking, every inch of her body and soul feeling violated. Unable to look at either Dr. Blake, who had examined her most intimately, or Uncle William, who sat behind his writing table, she clutched her hands in her lap, fighting to staunch her tears.

“Her maidenhead has been breached. I saw evidence, too, that the hair had been removed from her pudendum—a custom of some tribes. It has mostly grown back, which means the act of removal occurred at the same time as conception.”

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, unable to fight back a moan as these intimate details were revealed to her uncle, who spoke with Dr. Blake as if she were not sitting there before them.

“There is no doubt that she is with child?”

“No doubt, my lord. Her womb and breasts are swollen. She tells me her last monthly began the week before she journeyed northward, which means her confinement should come shortly before Christmas.”

“Thank you, Doctor. You’ve been most helpful. You understand, of course, the need for discretion.”

“Yes, my lord. Upon my word, I will speak of this with no one.”

“I should like a moment alone with my niece, and then you and I shall speak further.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Sarah heard footsteps, then the sound of a door opening and closing, and knew she was alone with Uncle William.

God in heaven, what was she going to tell him? He would demand the truth, and what would she say? She would have to lie. For Connor’s sake, she would have to lie.

“Sarah.” Uncle William came and knelt down before her, taking her hands in his. “I understand why you did not tell me the truth, but you must trust me now, for you are in a desperate situation. Set your shame aside. You are blameless in this. The blame lies solely with the one who abducted and ravished you.”

He thought Katakwa had ravished her?

Sarah gaped at him in surprise.

“Do not look so astonished. It was not difficult to guess the truth, based on the information Dr. Blake has shared with me. Katakwa ravished you that first night in the forest when you were alone with him. To your misfortune, his seed has taken root.”

Stunned by Uncle William’s assumption, Sarah sat speechless.

And then it came to her.

As long as Uncle William believed Katakwa was to blame, Connor was safe.

L
ord William watched Sarah make her way upstairs, rage churning in his gut at the horrors she had suffered—having the hair torn from her most tender flesh, being forced to slake a brute’s lust in the dark of the forest, and then keeping this terrible secret to herself, even while the whoreson’s spawn began to grow inside her.

He motioned to Dr. Blake to enter, shutting the door behind him before resuming his seat at his writing table. “Thank you once again, Doctor.”

“I regret to find so dear and young a lady in such a terrible predicament, my lord.”

So did William. “What is to be done about it?”

“During these first few months, I recommend a great deal of rest with fresh air and an afternoon walk. I should be happy to leave with you a list of foods she should and should not eat. Her nausea should begin to subside within a month or so, after which—”

“You misunderstand me. What can be done to rid my niece of that bastard’s get?”

The doctor’s expression turned grave. “Very little, I am afraid.”

“That cannot be true. I know there are methods. For God’s sake, what do all the whores in camp do?”

“Most give birth to bastards, my lord. Some few try to force the child from their bodies with potions, lye, or sharpened sticks, but many who try die.”

William stood, crossed the room, and poured himself a cognac. “I refuse to accept that Sarah will have to
risk her life
to bear a half-breed bastard conceived in rape. There must be some means of ridding her of this burden without harming her, and I am asking you, Doctor, to help me discover it.”

Dr. Blake watched him through troubled eyes. “There is pennyroyal.”

“The herb?” William took a drink, fought to steady his temper.

“Yes. In the right amount, pennyroyal tea can cause a woman to miscarry. If a women ingests the slightest bit too much, however, it will kill
both
mother and child.”

“I entrust you, Doctor, to discover the safe amount.” William drank the rest of his cognac, set the glass down, and turned to face the surgeon. “I will
not
risk her life in childbirth, nor will I suffer her to endure such a travail after all she has been through. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my lord.” Dr. Blake rose, worry and wariness on his face. “I would I must warn you that it might be safer for the lady if nature were left to take its course. There is also the chance that Lady Sarah will find the idea of killing the child repugnant.”

William hadn’t thought of that. It seemed impossible to him that she would want to give birth to the child of the man who had so violated her. He supposed there was a chance that the idea of causing herself to miscarry would trouble her conscience. But if he didn’t tell her, if she drank the tea without knowing…“Leave that to me, Doctor.”

S
arah woke to a knock at the door. When had she fallen asleep? She sat up, her mind muddled. The clock on the mantel told her it was just after noon. The window was still open, the room chilly, the sky outside her window overcast.

The knock came again.

“My lady?” It was that traitor, Agnes. “I’ve brought luncheon—”

“Set the tray down and go!” Sarah did not wish to see her or speak with her. Uncle William had told Sarah that Agnes had made him aware of her condition, and though he was grateful to the old bat, Sarah most certainly was not.

“Do not be stubborn, my lady. I will stand here until you open this door.”

Sarah was of half a mind to put Agnes’s threat to the test by going back to sleep, but she
was
hungry. Ravenously so. Reluctantly, she rose, walked to the door, and turned the key, standing back while Agnes carried a tray of cheeses, bread, and tea to the dressing table.

“I know you’re angry with me, but you’ll soon see it was for the best.” Agnes walked to the open window and closed it. “You would not have been able to hide your condition much longer. A young lady who is with child out of wedlock cannot manage alone. Now your uncle can better see to your care.”

Sarah supposed things
had
turned out for the best. She no longer had to conceal her nausea and vomiting, nor force herself to stay awake when her body ached for sleep. Best of all, Uncle William had assumed it was Katakwa who’d gotten her with child, a mistake that had spared Sarah the pain of lying to him in order to protect Connor. Yet, because of Agnes, Sarah had been forced to endure Dr. Blake’s humiliating examination and then listen while he spoke of her body—and what had been done to her—to Uncle William.