Elizabeth Meyette (29 page)

“We cannot presume upon your hospitality, Madame,” Randy said.

“If he is a part of Brentwood Manor, he is welcome to stay as long as needed, for I know of the patriot Jonathon Brentwood,” she said.

“This is Jonathon Brentwood.” Andrew felt a surge of pride as he said the words. “He is my brother-in-law.”

“I am honored to have him under my roof. I am honored to have helped such a Son of Liberty.” Her eyes glistened.

Stars were tossed across the black velvet sky and the moon hung on a tree branch to the east. A cooling breeze rose up as Andrew saw to the horses. Jenny watched him from the back door of the farmhouse, and a tremor fluttered in her stomach. She ached to go to him and feel his embrace once more. Despite the horror of watching Jonathon as the bullet was removed, Jenny had been aware of every move Andrew had made that afternoon, and when he came to her and held her, the trembling was not just because of Jonathon.

Barely aware of her movements, she stepped out and stood on the step captivated by Andrew’s movements, smooth and sure, as he brushed down the horses. Without thinking, she approached him wanting only to be near him. He turned as she neared, surprise flickering across his face.

“Good evening, Jenny,” he said, his voice soft on the night air.

“Good evening, Andrew.”

They looked at each other for a moment, neither speaking. Jenny finally looked away, and Andrew resumed grooming the horse.

“The breeze is refreshing,” he said as he brushed the horse’s flank.

“Yes. It is a lovely evening.”

Andrew kept brushing; the horse sidestepped a bit, and Andrew moved to the horse’s other side. His movements were steady, but his eyes shifted from his task to his view of Jenny over the horse’s back. She glanced at him, caught his eye, and returned her gaze to the heavens. Her heart pounded at his nearness, and she searched for something to say to keep her there. Picking up a brush, she ran it along the horse’s neck.

“Jonathon is resting well,” she said.

“I am happy to hear that,” Andrew replied.

Silence.

Jenny was confused; she had always been able to handle any circumstance in which she found herself. In fact, many times she knew that she controlled the situation, but it was different with Andrew. She felt like a schoolgirl, tongue-tied and awkward. And after what she witnessed between him and Deidre, she wondered that she was speaking to him at all. If they were lovers, she wanted no part of him, and yet she was irresistibly drawn to him. What was it about Andrew that she found so irresistible? Many suitors had called on her in Boston, and they were charming and handsome and most were quite well-to-do. She knew that she could have had her pick. But Andrew charmed her with his absolutely guileless nature; he never put on airs and there was an innocence about him that tugged at her heart. Yet, the scene she had beheld was not innocent, and if he were involved with Deidre, he certainly had not been honest with her.

Lost in her musings, she had not noticed Andrew return to her side of the horse. The touch of his hand on hers brought her back to the moment. Frozen in time, his hand covered hers where she held the brush against the horse. She felt the heat of his body beside her, felt his breath against her hair. Slowly, she looked up into his face and saw his smile, soft and gentle.

“Jenny, I need to explain … ”

She moved away and looked down at the brush, worrying its bristles.

“You need not explain — ,” she began, but he placed his finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up to his.

“I do. Please allow me this chance, Jenny.”

She looked at his eyes, full of misery and hope at the same time. Nodding, she put down the brush. He took her elbow and led her to a bench beneath a sprawling oak tree. The scent of phlox floated to them on the night breeze, and the warm air embraced them. Sitting down, she felt Andrew turn to her and take her hand. The trembling that had begun as she watched him from the farmhouse door returned, and she planted her feet firmly on the ground, pulled her elbows in and clenched her teeth in an effort to stop it.

“Jenny, what you saw in the stables was not what it appeared. I was looking for you as I had hoped we might go riding. Deidre came out of nowhere — I did not know she was there.” He looked away, his eyes darted about as he tried to gather his thoughts. “She had been proposing — that is — suggesting — that is offering herself to me. I am sorry to reveal such a distasteful subject,” he turned to her, his eyes direct and clear, “but I must, Jenny, if you are to understand what occurred. I refused her offer, for I knew that our love was all I wanted. I did not need her assistance in order to offer my love to you. She pursued me even after I refused her several times. And then, in the stables — I did not know she was there. I turned and she pushed herself against me, kissed me, and, well, as you saw.” He looked at the ground. “I suppose you could argue that I am a man and I could have easily pushed her away.” He looked back at Jenny. “But it had happened so quickly, and she had just accosted me when you came in … Jenny, it was as if she knew you would find us.”

Relief flooded through her. She believed him with all of her heart, for the sincerity was evident in his eyes as they burned into hers. One tear escaped and ran down her cheek.

“I believe you, Andrew.”

His face came close to hers and he searched her eyes. He scanned her face, her hair, her eyes and he kissed her briefly, searching her face again. Her desire for him burned within her and a longing started deep in her belly and spread through her body. His mouth closed over hers and she arched her body against his. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, against her own, his arms encircling her and pulling her into him. His hands brushed through her hair and he kissed her eyes, her cheek, her throat, returning to her lips, on fire with passion.

“Jenny,” he whispered into her hair. “My Jenny.”

A cough interrupted their embrace, and breaking apart, they saw Randy in the yard.

“Well, Andrew, I see you took my wise counsel,” he said as he approached them.

Jenny looked at Andrew quizzically, and he gave her a small smile.

Randy continued. “Jonathon is sleeping soundly after a bit of rum. The wound does not seem to be putrid, so I think he will recover from it. I intend to leave for Williamsburg tomorrow to procure a wagon so Jonathon can return home to recuperate. It would be best for you two to return to Brentwood Manor ahead of me to inform Mrs. Brentwood that her husband has been snatched from the gallows.” His voice softened. “Emily needs to know as soon as possible that Jonathon is alive.”

“We shall leave tomorrow as well then, Randy,” Andrew said.

“Excellent. Jonathon is in very capable hands here, and I will return for him as soon as possible. Well then, I will leave you two to continue your … ah, conversation.” He winked at Andrew and turned toward the farmhouse.

Jenny looked up at him feigning indignation. “So, you discuss me with any ear that will listen?”

Andrew bowed his head and looked at their entwined hands. “Randy raised the issue, Jenny, not me. He said you were beautiful and that I should not lose you through my own reticence.” Looking up at her he saw the laughter in her eyes and sighed in relief. “Oh, Jenny, I thought I was in danger of losing you again.”

“No, Andrew. I am afraid you might be encumbered with me for a long time.” Leaning forward she kissed him.

• • •

Emily felt a tugging at the sleeve of her nightgown. Coming awake, she sat up and looked around. Deidre stood at the side of her bed.

“Come quickly, Emily. It is Jonathon.” Deidre whispered speaking fast and low.

Emily rubbed her eyes and looked around. The night was still, and the moonlight streamed in through the window. She realized that it must be near midnight.

“What did you say? Why are you here, Deidre?” Trying to clear her mind, Emily felt disoriented. She felt Deidre pulling her up, tugging at her arm, and she pulled away from her.

“What do you want, Deidre?”

“It is Jonathon, Emily. Jonathon has returned, but he needs you. He has been injured, but he escaped. Come, Emily, Jonathon needs you.”

“Jonathon? Jonathon is here? He is alive?” Emily felt a rush of joy as she hastened to get her robe. “How? Where is he?” She rushed for the door as Grace whimpered in her sleep. As she turned to go to the cradle, Deidre again grabbed her arm.

“The child is fine; she is asleep. Come with me.” Her voice was brittle in the dark room as she led Emily to the door. “He is asking for you. Come quickly.”

Emily’s mind struggled to make sense of what was happening, but exhaustion still held her, and her thoughts were muddled. The one thought that called out stridently was that Jonathon was alive. She hurried along behind Deidre. When they reached the staircase, Deidre paused to allow Emily to continue down, but Emily stopped as well.

“Go on, Deidre, show me where Jonathon is,” Emily nudged her to the front. Deidre looked confused for a moment, and then her eyes cleared, glinting in the light of the oil lamp she carried.

“Of course, Emily. Come this way.”

Their slippers were soundless on the marble stairs as they descended. The house was still except for the ticking of the clock in the parlor. Deidre led the way to the back of the house and the door that led to the out buildings.

“Why is Jonathon out here?” Emily asked, disquiet invading her stomach. “Where are we going, Deidre?”

“He is in hiding. The British are not far behind him.” Deidre’s voice was low and urgent.

Emily’s hope that Jonathon was alive mixed with a feeling of dread. She stopped and pulled Deidre back by her arm, and in doing so caused her robe to fall open. In the dim light, Emily saw that Deidre was growing larger with child, and her heart dropped with the reality of it. She looked at Deidre’s face, a mask of deceit and hatred staring back at her, and fear overtook Emily in that instant.

“This is a cruel trick, Deidre. Jonathon is not here.”

“No thanks to you,” Deidre spat at her. “If he had not returned for the birth of your … “ She did not finish the sentence. “The British will hang him and the fault is yours.” She grabbed Emily’s arm. “Now you will pay for what you have done. And when you have paid, then your daughter will.”

Emily tried to pull away, but Deidre had extraordinary strength. Opening the back door, she pushed Emily out into the night. Struggling, Emily tried to release her arm from Deidre’s iron grip, but to no avail. She dug her feet into the ground, but it was dry, and she simply slid along the surface raising dust. Stepping behind her, Deidre grasped her other arm and pulled it back using the belt from her robe to tie Emily’s hands behind her.

“Deidre, that is enough. Untie my hands.” Emily wiggled her hands trying to loosen the knot, but it only caused the corded cloth to dig into her skin causing bloody gashes.

“Help!” Emily shouted. “Someone help me! Dulcie! Jedadi — ” her cries were cut off by a blow to her mouth. She staggered back from the impact. Her heart stopped when she caught Deidre’s face in the lamp’s glow. Her eyes shone with madness, her mouth was pulled down on either side with hatred, and she sneered at Emily.

“No one is going to hear you. No one is going to help you.”

Emily opened her mouth to scream, and Deidre forced a handkerchief into it, balling it as she pushed. Emily’s screams were muffled, falling mutely into the night. Deidre grabbed her arm and pushed her toward the outbuildings.

“I was going to make the staircase your death scene, but you did not cooperate. But there are always other options, Emily dear. I will simply lock you in one of these and set it on fire. No one will hear your screams.”

Emily kicked at her, but Deidre dodged and laughed at her.

“You are no match for me, Emily. Hatred for you fuels my strength and the thought of you dead fans the flame. With you and your child gone and Jonathon hanged, Brentwood Plantation will be inherited by my child. I will not have Jonathon, as I should have, but I will have all that was his.

Panic gripped Emily at the thought of Grace left in Deidre’s hands. What would the woman do to her? Terror paralyzed Emily, not only for her own circumstance, but even more so that her defenseless, tiny daughter would be harmed at Deidre’s cruel hands. She fought wildly. She could not allow Deidre to get to Grace.

Deidre pushed Emily toward the smokehouse, and Emily felt sick. This was where Captain Walters had attempted to rape her. Her mind whirled with terrible memories as they neared the door. The handkerchief in her mouth was choking her, and she was unable to swallow so saliva ran out the side of her mouth and down her throat gagging her. Just as Deidre was about to open the door, she stopped.

“No, I think I shall select a different fate for you.” Her laughter terrified Emily. Following Deidre’s gaze, Emily looked across at the stables and then at the oil lamp in Deidre’s hand. The light glowed upward casting evil shadows that danced and flickered across her face. She grabbed Emily by her hair and pushed her in the direction of the stables. Unable to balance, Emily fell to the ground landing on her left arm and then falling face down into the dirt. Her milk had let down, and the front of her gown was damp, the dust sticking to her like obscene handprints on her breasts. Deidre pulled her to her feet glancing down at her soiled clothes.

“Poor Grace must be very hungry. She is probably crying for her mother right now. Poor baby will never see her mother again.” Gripped with fear, Emily had to do something to save her baby, but what could she do? She looked at the woman who seemed possessed, hair wild and flowing down her back, eyes glinting like ice, mouth a cruel slash across her face. She thrust her face into Emily’s. “Do not worry. She will not be hungry for long.” She laughed, almost a cackle, and panic seized Emily at the thought of Grace being harmed by Deidre.

Emily’s arms felt as if they would pop out of her shoulders and the ache traveled down to her wrists still bleeding from her efforts to loosen the bonds. Her back throbbed from being arched back, and her breasts felt as though they would burst. Tears ran unchecked down her face, but urgency for action burned within her. Deidre pulled her along toward the stables, looking back at her and laughing at her distress.