The Duke's Lady (Historical Romance - The Ladies Series) (34 page)

“After you, old boy.”

The country sprawled between rivers and swamps as they made their way to Mobile. Low marshlands sucked at the horse’s hooves as they rode, making their progress slower than normal. The heat and humidity soon took their toll on Jonathan, forcing him to discard his coat.

“Is it always this bloody hot?” Jonathan complained, wiping his brow.

Adam smiled. “I’m afraid so, especially this time of the year. It can get rather sultry, but you’ll get used to it, just as soon as that English blood thins out.”

“Very funny.” Jonathan frowned. “While we’re riding, tell me something about this famous general of yours. What kind of man is Jackson?”

Adam rubbed his chin. “That’s hard to say. Let me see, what words should I use to describe him? How about obstinate? Yes, that’s a good word. Obstinate with a vindictiveness toward his enemy that you wouldn’t believe.”

“Sounds like a real nice fellow, but should I trust my life to him?” Jonathan asked.

“Wait. Let me finish. The general’s character is complex. He is a man of honor, courage, and above all things, a man who does not give his word lightly. And Jackson is honest, a true man of his word. However, he has a hair-trigger temper, especially to those who would utter slurs against himself or anyone he loves. If you think I have fought many duels, it’s nothing compared to Jackson.”

“You mean his temper is worse than yours?” Jonathan shook his head. “No, impossible!”

“Let’s just say his temper is equal to mine.” Adam raised an eyebrow at Jonathan’s smart remark. “I’ll give you an example. Jackson was at a convivial gathering. A gentleman by the name of Dickinson made a snide remark about the unconventionality of Rachel Jackson’s marriage. By the way, Rachel is Andrew’s wife. He heard this remark and warned Dickinson’s father-in-law to restrain his son-in-law. But the offense was repeated. After some newspaper exchanges, Dickinson sent a card to a Nashville paper, the last paragraph of which stated that ‘the Major General Jackson ... is a worthless scoundrel, a poltroon, and coward.’ ”

“The man must have been a fool,” Jonathan said, “if what you just told me is true.”

“He was, but at that time I’m sure he didn’t think so. Jackson at once challenged him, and of course, Dickinson accepted.”

“I understand why he challenged him to a duel. You would have done the same. But what was so unconventional about Jackson’s marriage?”

“That’s another story, but seeing as we have a long ride ahead of us, I’ve plenty of time to tell you,” Adam said, then continued with his story. “Rachel was married to a man named Robards before she married Jackson. Robards obtained a divorce through an act of the Virginia General Assembly. That’s when Jackson married her. But what they didn’t know was Robards had asked for and received only an enabling act, whereby if he could show cause, the marriage would be dissolved. It had to be printed in the newspaper and run for eight weeks consecutively. But Robards failed to do this for two years. Therefore, Rachel had been living in adultery with Jackson.”

“I guess that’s what you would call an unconventional marriage. What did Jackson do?”

“Jackson later went through the marriage ceremony again, but the scandal hung over their heads—and still does, he told me.” Adam pulled out his canteen and offered Jonathan a drink. “Damn, it’s hot today.”

After Jonathan took a drink he said, “Interesting story, my friend. What happened after the challenge was made? I hope he blew the bloke’s head off.”

“At dawn, I think it was the month of May, Jackson faced his antagonist with pistols at twelve paces. Dickinson was known to be an expert shot, and Jackson was of a lesser skill. Jackson told me he knew he would be hit, perhaps mortally, but Dickinson had slandered his wife, and Jackson wouldn’t back down.”

“Neither would you,” Jonathan commented. “But then, I’ve never seen a man who could even hold a candle to your marksmanship.”

Adam laughed. “Thank you for that small token of praise. Now back to the story. One of his aides told me what happened. He said at the signal there was an instantaneous puff of smoke from Dickinson’s pistol and Jackson felt a heavy shock in his side. He swayed momentarily, then straightened. The aide said there was a look of horror on Dickinson’s face as he cried, ‘Great God, have I missed him?’ Dickinson recoiled a step, but resumed the mark upon the referee’s order. Jackson raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. The hammer stopped at half-cock. Jackson remorselessly drew back the hammer and this time the gun fired, and Dickinson died that night.”

“Was Jackson hurt?”

“He told me himself that he could feel the blood running from his wound down into his boot, but he mounted his horse and rode forty miles back to Nashville.”

“I must say he doesn’t sound like your ordinary man.” Jonathan shook his head. “I can see why you like him.”

The campground was dotted with white canvas tents like mushrooms on a forest floor. They rode between the rows of canvas, heading for Jackson’s command post. A total of five regiments were camped here, just a little over two thousand men. It was midday, and most of the men hung around their tents, eating lunch or cleaning their rifles.

Adam and Jonathan stopped in front of Jackson’s headquarters. Dismounting, they handed the reins to one of the general’s aides and entered the tent.

General Jackson sat behind his desk, shoulders bent, looking at a map. Jonathan thought he didn’t look as impressive as he had imagined from Adam’s fabulous stories. Jackson’s homely face tilted up, and Jonathan could see a scar running the length of one cheek. Probably another good story went with that scar. Jackson’s voice, as he spoke to Adam, was not deep and bellowed, but high-pitched. Then the general turned, and Jonathan felt his eyes scrutinizing him. Jackson’s eyes were a brilliant steel-blue, his look piercing as he searched Jonathan’s face, trying to sum up what kind of man he was.

“Mr. Hird, it’s a pleasure to have you join us. Adam has spoken often about you.” Jackson extended his hand.

“Please call me Jonathan, and the pleasure is all mine, General.” Jonathan felt the firm grip of his handshake.

“Sit down,” Jackson commanded, pointing to some stools. “Let us talk.”

“What are you looking at, General?” Adam asked.

“A map of the Gulf States.” He pointed to a spot on the drawing. “I firmly believe the British will strike at Mobile.”

“Why do you say that?” Adam asked.

“It seems perfectly obvious that the British will disembark at Mobile, and march overland to some river point above the Crescent City—maybe Baton Rouge—thus avoiding the treacherous delta country,” he answered irritably.

“Maybe you are right,” Adam acknowledged, “but I believe they will sail into New Orleans. I have information they’ll offer Lafitte a deal to join forces with them, and who better than Lafitte knows those treacherous waterways?”

Jonathan’s gaze rested on one of the aides standing near the door, who nearly choked when he heard Adam disagree with the general. Jonathan smiled. Evidently, nobody disagreed with Jackson.

The general stood, stretching his back and muscles. “I’ve not heard this bit of information. As you know, Adam, I’m not a man who readily changes his mind, but I do appreciate your input and would like to hear more. Let’s just say we will see who is right in the end.” Jackson grinned.

The meeting lasted a little over four hours. Both men shared the things they knew had been happening, and they both filled Jonathan in on everything he didn’t know.

“I need your help, Adam,” Jackson suddenly admitted. “How can I assist you?”

“I need someone I can trust to go to Pensacola. There seems to be a bit of trouble down there.”

“I hadn’t expected to be away from home that long,” Adam confessed. “However, if you’ll send word to my wife, Jonathan and I will go on your mission.”

“Agreed.” Jackson shook Adam’s hand. “I’ll send one of my Choctaw scouts to Four Oaks.”

Adam sat down and wrote a note to Jewel, telling her he would be away longer than he’d first thought. But he would try everything possible to be home in time for the party.

Jewel and Elizabeth had kept busy fixing up Annie’s house, which now glistened from beeswax, and their hard work showed. Yellow curtains gave a light, airy look to the kitchen. The rooms seemed to glow as the sun trickled in through the windows.

Annie wiped a tear from her eye. “I never thought I’d be havin’ anythin’ so beautiful in all me bo
rn days. ’Tis truly a miracle.”

Jewel hugged Annie. “You deserve every bit of it. Look how long you have taken care of everybody else.”

“And look what a good job you did on Adam and me.” Elizabeth giggled. “Why, we’re simply perfect.”

Elizabeth and Jewel walked back to the main house. It was a good distance, but they had decided the walk would do them good. As soon as they entered the main hall of Four Oaks, a butler appeared and handed a letter to Jewel. She was a bit worried when she first recognized Adam’s writing, and quickly tore into the note.

“Is anything wrong?” Elizabeth asked.

“No, thank goodness. It just says they’re going to be longer than expected.”

“They?”

“He probably means General Jackson and himself.”

“Well, why is he detained?” Elizabeth asked, peering over Jewel’s shoulder.

“It seems General Jackson wants Adam to do something for him, but Adam doesn’t explain anything.”

“What about the party?” Elizabeth was getting excited. “The party is for both of you! Adam just
has
to be there!” Elizabeth declared, exasperated.

“Calm down. Adam said he
would
be here for the party.” Jewel smiled at her sister-in-law, feeling she had her very own sister.

The next morning guaranteed a glorious day. Warm air caressed the morning glories, promising more heat by midday. The day wasn’t hot, just pleasant and comfortable, nothing like the cold, clammy weather in England.

After a nice breakfast with Elizabeth, Jewel told her she was going for a ride in the country, which was almost the truth.

Jewel hurried to the stable. She moved past several stalls before picking out a mount that looked gentle and understanding.

Now, if she could just overpower this horse and let him know who was boss, she’d have a pleasurable ride into New Orleans. Surprisingly enough, what she’d learned in England came back to her once she mounted. She felt comfortable and somewhat in control.

The ride into New Orleans was enjoyable. Jewel smiled to herself at the thought of what everybody would have said if she had told them where she was going.

She couldn’t wait to see her Uncle Pierre. How long had it been now? Over a year. He must be worried.

Jewel ignored the strange stares she received as she rode up to the blacksmith’s shop. She had purposely worn a big hat and veil to hide her identity. She couldn’t take the chance of word getting back to Adam.

Once she arrived, she lifted the veil so she could talk to the blacksmith. “I’d like to see Pierre, please.”

“He isn’t here,” the blacksmith snapped without looking up.

“You said he would be here in two weeks.” She dismounted and stood in front of him. She wasn’t about to be put off. It had been a long ride to be dismissed so casually.

The big hulk of a man finally turned around. At first he seemed hesitant to answer her question. “We’re expecting him, ma’am, but he hasn’t come.”

Another blacksmith spoke up, smiling at her. “You sure there ain’t something I can do for you?”

“I’m positive.” Jewel scowled at the man. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. As she turned to head for the office she’d seen Adam go into the last time they’d been there, Jewel’s hand came up slowly to the waistband of her skirt where she had hidden a knife.

As she suspected, the blacksmith who had spoken made a grab for her. She whirled just about the time he touched her, slicing his midsection.

“The bitch cut me!” he roared, grabbing his stomach and looking down at the blood staining his hands. “You little witch,” he muttered. His eyes widened and he started toward her.

Jewel had been through too much to be afraid. All her training quickly returned as she took a stance, knife in hand. “I was playing with you the first time; however, if you lay another hand on me, I’ll slit your throat.”

That statement stopped him from advancing further as he contemplated whether she was bluffing.

From behind Jewel, men came flying out of the office where she had been headed. “What’s going on here?” they demanded.

Jewel glanced over her shoulder to see who approached her. The blacksmith lunged, but she was faster, and sidestepped him, leaving him face-down in the dirt.

“Jewel?” one of the men called from behind her.

A squeal of delight slipped from her lips as she ran and threw herself into his arms. “Dominique, is it really you?”

“Of course it is. We thought you were dead,” he told Jewel, holding her back to get a better glance. “But look at you. You are fine,
petite?
”