Time After Time (85 page)

“How is Martha?” she finally asked. Emily judged she should be feeling guilty for having forgotten about Martha, but she did not feel anything.

“Mrs. Cosgrove is not well. The news of her husband’s death was a terrible blow to her,” Gates replied.

“You know that they are all … dead?” Emily could barely say the word.

“Yes. We recovered James and the others from the boat, and the British took Jonathon’s … body.” It was difficult for Gates to say, but he knew Emily needed to face the reality of the situation if she were to eventually recover from her grief.

Emily stared ahead. All of her strength went into blocking out the scenes of horror she had witnessed. She could not bear to think of them.

“Mrs. Brentwood,” Gates said, calling her back from her daze. She started at his voice. “We have some decisions to make. I have orders to keep your safety as my first priority. We are out at sea now, but getting to London may be difficult.”

“I am not going to London,” Emily stated flatly.

Gates waited. Emily was surprised he did not argue with her.

“Please take me back to Yorktown. I want to return to Brentwood Manor.”

Gates stared out the window for a few moments.

“I do not think Mrs. Cosgrove could make the trip to London. And I think there is as much peril in that voyage now as there is in returning you to your home. Aye, Missy, I shall get you back to Brentwood Manor,” he agreed.

“Thank you, Mr. Gates,” she said as her eyes filled with tears.

• • •

Emily’s listlessness continued, but she knew she must check on Martha. She finally roused herself enough to go to the woman’s cabin. What she found jarred her out of her state.

Martha lay on her bed with her eyes closed. Her face was as pale as the muslin pillow cover; her cheeks were sunken to a deathly hollowness. She opened her eyes when Emily entered.

“Rebecca, is that you? I asked you to bring in the flowers for the table. You know our guests will be here shortly. Hurry, girl, and get them now,” she said, her glazed eyes on Emily.

“Martha, it is I, Emily,” she said softly, frightened for the woman.

“Emily, how well you are looking,” Martha said brightly. “Hurry, child, you must dress for the ball. All the finest young men will be there falling over one another to meet you.”

Emily stared at the woman; she did not know what to say.

“I hope you wear that blue gown, it matches your eyes perfectly. You will be the belle of the ball, enchanting all the young men. But I wonder if you see how Jonathon looks at you — ”

Emily’s stomach lurched at the sound of his name.

“Martha, do you know where we are? Can you hear what I am saying?”

Martha’s eyes went dark; she frowned as tears welled up in her eyes.

“James? Where is James, Emily? They tried to tell me he was killed, but he was not, was he? Tell me the truth, Emily. James is well, is he not? Why are they lying to me and telling me such awful things?” Martha asked.

“Martha, I am so sorry,” Emily said as she sank into the chair beside the bed.

“No! Not you, too!” Martha screamed.

Emily reached for the woman’s hand, but Martha struck out at her.

“Do not touch me! How dare you come here and tell me these lies!” the woman shrieked at her.

Emily was shaken. She stood, unable to decide what she should do. Just then Gates entered and went to Martha. He held a glass out to her.

“There, there, Martha. It is all right now,” he said soothingly. “Here, drink this, you will feel better.”

Martha eyed him suspiciously and looked at the cup. He nodded reassuringly at her. Slowly she reached for the cup and sipped its contents. She looked past him at Emily, her eyes brightened, and she smiled.

“There you are, Emily. See if you can find Rebecca, dear. She is supposed to bring in flowers for the table. Where can that girl be?” She lay back against the pillow. “You really must hurry and dress, my dear. The ball will be one of the best, I think, and that blue dress looks so lovely on you … .” Her voice trailed off as her eyes slowly closed.

Emily looked at Gates in fear.

“What is it? What has happened to her?” she asked.

“She never really recovered from the shock of the fire. I am afraid the shock of losing James was just too much for her. I do not know if she will ever recover,” he replied sadly.

“Oh, my God,” Emily whispered. She sank into a chair and gazed at the woman. How changed Martha was from the lively, jovial woman who had welcomed her so warmly.

“What can I do for her?” Emily asked numbly.

Gates was relieved. Emily would get through this horrible time. She was compassionate and courageous, even in her mourning, able to care for another.

“You are a strong woman, Mrs. Brentwood,” he said softly.

Emily looked up at him in confusion.

“I do not feel strong, Mr. Gates. I feel tired,” she said quietly. “And alone.”

• • •

Emily spent the next days tending Martha. The woman would not eat anything despite Emily’s urging. Just to encourage her, Emily would bring in a hearty tray and eat in front of her. It was only this ruse that made Emily eat anything herself. So her strength grew as she watched Martha’s wane.

They finally reached Yorktown, but Gates did not pull into the port. He anchored a short distance out and sent several of his men to town on an errand.

“We shall stay here for a few days, Mrs. Brentwood,” he explained, “until I know the situation on shore.”

Emily would have thought he was being overcautious if she had not witnessed the scene at Norfolk. She was grateful for his caution … and for his presence.

The men returned the next day and had added one to their company. Emily gasped in surprise as she saw Randy in the returning boat. He climbed on deck and hurried to her; his eyes filled with sorrow.

“Emily,” he said as he took her in his arms. “Emily, I am so sorry for you.”

“And I for you, Randy,” she answered. “I know you were lifelong friends.”

They held each other and cried, drawing strength from each other and their love of Jonathon.

Finally Emily pulled back and looked up at him, puzzled.

“Randy, why are you here?”

“I was at the Swan Tavern when some of Jonathon’s crew came in. They sought me out and told me what had happened. I also heard that Jonathon had some trouble at the harbor before he left. I have men on shore waiting if you need some help.”

“Thank you, Randy. You are most kind,” Emily said sincerely.

Gates approached them and greeted Randy. Reassured about the safety of putting into port, Gates ordered the
Destiny
to enter Yorktown. The two men went to supervise the unloading of the ship, and Emily returned to Martha. The woman was too weak to go above deck alone, so Emily assisted her.

“We are in Yorktown, Martha,” Emily explained. “You are to come to Brentwood Manor with me.”

“For the wedding, dear? I knew it would be so; I saw how Jonathon looked at you. I said to James — ” She stopped and her face clouded. “James?” she said tearfully.

“Martha, you are to come to Brentwood Manor with me. I will need your help when it is time for the baby to be born.”

Feebly, Martha walked to the deck with the girl.

Randy’s friends awaited them at the pier and assisted the crew in unloading the ship. The women were made comfortable in a carriage, prepared to set off as soon as the necessary things were unloaded for their trip to Brentwood Manor.

Gates came over to Emily and took her hand.

“Good-bye, missy. You take care of yourself and your child,” he said.

Tears burned in Emily’s eyes; again she said good-bye to a dear friend.

“Mr. Gates, thank you for returning us safely. What will you do now?”

“I would like to continue sailing for the committees. It is your ship now, however, Mrs. Brentwood. You can order me to halt.”

Emily was startled at the impact of this decision. To allow Gates to continue to sail was to work against the king. To make him stop would be to make Jonathon’s death and everything he lived for worthless. She stared out at the sea.

“It is Jonathon’s ship still, Mr. Gates. I believe he would want you to continue,” she said quietly.

“Aye, Mrs. Brentwood,” he replied respectfully.

• • •

Emily still felt as if she moved in a dream. Caring for Martha gave her something to think about, but the familiar sights brought back unbearable memories. They traveled straight to Brentwood Manor because unrest was building in the town. Night had fallen by the time they arrived. There were no lights on since they were not expected, so Randy went to the door.

David finally answered in his robe.

“Randy? What the — ” he began.

“David, you had best come here,” Randy answered. He led the man to the carriage.

“David, what is it?” Joanna called from the doorway. She followed the men.

David reached the carriage and looked in.

“Emily? Where is Jona — ” he stopped as he realized the answer. He turned to Joanna. She reached him and looked up at his face, and then she looked in the carriage.

“Emily? Oh my God … Jonathon?”

“Joanna,” Emily said through her tears.

Randy reached in and helped the girl out. The full impact of the situation hit, and Joanna began to sob. David went to his wife and helped her into the house. Randy turned to Emily.

“We must get Martha inside,” he said. “Can you make it in all right?”

Emily nodded dumbly. Randy lifted Martha out of the carriage, and they hurried inside.

The sight of the house was more than Emily could bear. She walked into the hall and collapsed on the floor. David and Joanna ran to her, and David carried her into the drawing room. Joanna wrapped her in her arms, and the two women sobbed together.

“How? When?” Joanna asked.

“In Norfolk. He almost made it back to the ship. The British burned the town. Some British sailors followed Jonathon and James as they were returning to the
Destiny
, and the sailors overtook them. They killed them all. Oh, it was horrifying,” Emily cried and buried her face in her hands. The retelling made her memory of the scene more vivid, and the pain was agonizing.

Randy held her as she gave way to more tears. She felt drained and spent. How many more tears could she cry?

David sat beside Joanna and held her through her sorrow.

“Why does everyone keep saying James is gone?” Martha asked in a singsong voice. “James will be back soon. He had to get some documents. James will be back soon.”

Joanna and David looked at Emily.

“I think it would be good for Martha to rest,” Emily said.

David grasped the bell pull, and in a moment Dulcie appeared.

“What a time a’ night to be gettin’ me up Master David,” she scolded as she entered the room. “Why, Miss Emily … what happened? Why are you here? Where’s Master Jonathon?” She stopped and took in the scene. She looked at Joanna.

“Dulcie, Jonathon’s — ”

“Don’t say it, Miss Joanna. It’s written on all your faces. Lord have mercy.” The woman began to cry.

“Dulcie, Mrs. Cosgrove is in desperate need of some sleep. Could you see that a room is prepared quickly?” David asked gently.

“I jus’ cleaned the room at the end of the south hall today, Master David. We can take her right on up.” Dulcie wiped the tears flowing down her cheeks and started for the stairs. “My, my, my. Poor Master Jonathon. Lord have mercy.”

Randy lifted Martha gently. “I shall take you to your room, Martha. Then you can rest.”

“We must rest before the ball,” she said merrily. “It will be a late night tonight.” Her voice trailed off as Randy carried her out of the room.

Joanna turned to Emily. “Will she recover? She looks terribly thin.”

“I have not been able to get her to eat a thing since it happened. She has little strength left; I am so worried about her,” Emily replied.

“And I am worried about you, Emily,” Joanna responded. “Have you been eating and getting some rest? Is the baby all right?”

“Yes, the baby is healthy, Joanna. But I had to come back here. I could not sail to London. Jonathon’s child will be born in his home.”

“I understand,” Joanna replied reaching out and taking her hand.

Randy returned to the drawing room, and they talked quietly into the night. Silence overcame the group as each dealt with his or her own sorrow. A room was readied for Randy, and they all retired.

Emily entered her bedroom with apprehension. The room in which she and Jonathon had shared so many intimate moments opened before her. She looked at his dresser covered with his personal belongings. She touched each item while silent tears ran down her face and spilled on his brushes. She took a shirt from his drawer and buried her face in it. He had put it on the day they left for Williamsburg and then decided on a different one. It still held his scent. Slowly she walked over to their bed and lay down on the side Jonathon always slept on. She laid his shirt beneath her face, wrapped her arms around his pillow, and cried bitterly before falling into an exhausted sleep.

• • •

In January of 1776 Dunmore issued a document that encouraged slaves to flee the plantations and join the British cause. Many did so in the hope of finding freedom, but what they found were horrible conditions and, for many, death. With the loss of slaves, many plantations that were already suffering because of British trade policy were now ruined.

At Brentwood Manor the exodus was not felt as heavily because of the fair treatment slaves had received. This was a relief because David was required to be away from the manor for long stretches of time, partly due to trading in Williamsburg and partly due to the patriot cause. He could trust the running of the plantation to several loyal slaves. Joanna was glad of Emily’s company even though it was a time of mourning.

Much of their time was spent ministering to Martha, who seemed to slip more deeply into the fantasy world that protected her from pain. Less and less often did she recognize her surroundings, and she became thinner and frailer each day.

Joanna finally sent for Dr. Anderson. He arrived in the afternoon and joined the women for tea. After offering his condolences, he listened as they explained Martha’s condition. Finally, he went upstairs, examined the woman and spoke with her for some time. He returned to the drawing room where Joanna and Emily awaited him.