Time After Time (89 page)

They were allowed to go downstairs, and Dulcie met them.

“I fixed some dinner for you,” she said.

In the dining room, neither could eat. They played with the food on their plates for a time until Dulcie tired of urging them to eat. Finally, they retired to the parlor.

Dr. Anderson arrived in the early evening and examined the captain. He was impressed by the care the soldier had given him and said there was little else he could do. It would be merely waiting now to see if the captain were strong enough to pull through.

Emily tossed and turned throughout the night. When she dreamed, it was nightmares about being confined in a British jail. When she awoke, she was covered with sweat and her heart raced.

She rose with the dawn and paced her room until Joanna awoke. Together they checked on the captain. The same soldier was attending him, and they were relieved to know that he was still alive. He lay back against the pillow, his face pale, and his breath shallow. The soldier informed them that he had been much the same throughout the night.

“The fact that he is still alive this morning is a good sign; however, he still is in danger of death,” he explained.

Although afraid to hope, Emily felt more encouraged than she had the previous day, and she whispered silent prayers for the man who had attacked her.

The women ate a light breakfast and took Will out for a brief walk. The bright sunshine was discordant with the mood they were in, but the weather was mild, and both felt a need for fresh air.

“Joanna,” Emily said, “even if Captain Walters lives, I shall still face charges of some sort.”

“I have thought of that, too, Emily,” she answered. “I wish David were here. Perhaps we could whisk you away and hide you somewhere.”

“That would only put all of you in danger,” Emily replied. “Perhaps if the captain lives he will drop charges in order to save face.”

“It seems that there should be some code of conduct that officers must observe,” Joanna agreed.

They returned to the house and sat in the parlor. The presence of the soldiers made movement on the grounds uncomfortable, so they spent most of their time inside. They rang for tea, and as Dulcie brought it in, they heard horses approaching.

Emily saw three riders coming up the drive; all were adorned in the scarlet of the British troops. The officer of the other regiment was here to decide what charges she would face. She trembled, and her stomach lurched. She turned to Joanna, who put her arms around her.

They watched the officer and his men approach the camp and dismount to speak to the soldiers. One soldier gestured to the house, speaking animatedly. The officer who seemed to be in charge nodded and spoke with them for a while. Then the three turned and rode toward the house.

Emily looked at Joanna in dread; tears filled her eyes. She brushed them away, straightened her shoulders, and answered the door. Joanna followed, holding her head high in an obvious effort to appear calm. Emily smoothed her skirts, brushed a wisp of hair from her eyes and opened the door. Amazement overtook her as she stared into the eyes of Michael Dennings. He had changed considerably since that day in her London parlor when he had proposed to her. He stood tall and striking in his officer’s red uniform. An air of command enveloped him, and his eyes held a maturity that war adds to every man who endures it. He was no longer the naive, innocent Michael she had known.

“Michael?” she whispered.

His eyes conveyed a warning, and he shook his head so slightly that only Emily could perceive his message to her.

“Mrs. Brentwood, I am Captain Michael Dennings, and I am here to speak to you about the incident in which a fellow officer was very seriously injured,” he said in a loud, clear voice.

Emily was bewildered. The scene seemed so bizarre. Here was Michael Dennings, her lifelong friend, dressed as a British officer and speaking to her as if she were a stranger. Surely this was all a bad dream. All of it — Jonathon’s capture, Captain Walters’s attack on her, Michael’s coldness — surely, this must be a dream. Panic gripped her, and she began to sway. Joanna was behind her in a moment steadying her balance.

“Emily, I am here,” she whispered urgently. “It will be all right; stay calm.”

Joanna’s voice had a soothing quality that revived her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them she found Michael’s upon her. There was no coldness there, rather a look of concern and anxiety.

“Mrs. Brentwood,” he said, “perhaps we can discuss this matter inside.”

“Of … of course,” she stammered.

She stepped back to allow him to enter. He started toward the door and paused when his men followed him.

“You two wait out here,” he ordered. The soldiers looked at each other in confusion.

Michael proceeded into the manor, and the door closed behind them.

When they were safely in the drawing room, Michael exploded.

“Emily, what has happened?”

Joanna jumped in surprise. She looked at the young officer in bewilderment, then at Emily.

“Joanna, may I present Michael Dennings, a dear friend of mine from London.”

Joanna appeared startled at the name. Perhaps she remembered Emily speaking of him as the boy she nearly married to escape leaving England. He no longer was a boy, but a handsome young man, albeit in the uniform of the British army.

“How do you do, Captain Dennings,” she said.

Michael bowed to Joanna then quickly looked back at Emily.

“What has happened here? I have been told that you almost murdered Walters,” he said. “Where is he?”

They led him up to the room where Captain Walters lay. The captain looked just as he had that morning. The same soldier still tended him and explained to Michael the treatment he had administered. Michael nodded, then stepped to the bed and felt the captain’s pulse. He looked anxiously at Emily.

“This is quite serious,” he said quietly. “How did it happen, Mrs. Brentwood?”

Emily was distressed by the coldness in his voice. She explained the confrontation in the smokehouse, and the way she had defended herself. When she finished, he turned to the soldier and asked him to corroborate her story.

“I did not see any of this, sir,” he answered. “All I know is that when I arrived, Captain Walters lay unconscious in a pool of blood; Mrs. Brentwood stood over him, and a blood-spattered meat cleaver lay beside him.”

“Mrs. Brentwood, did Captain Walters threaten you with a weapon?” Michael asked.

“Why, not exactly …” she began. “But he had his pistol in his belt — ”

“In his belt, not ready for use?”

“Well, yes … that is … no,” she stammered in confusion. She noticed that Joanna had left the room. Where was she? Emily desperately needed her right now.

“Well, you simply attacked him, then, for no reason?” Michael demanded.

“No reason! He was about to rape me! I was defending myself — ”

“That is your word against his, Mrs. Brentwood.”

Emily could not believe this nightmare. Was Michael so bitter about her rejection of his proposal that he would see her imprisoned or, worse yet, hanged? She could not believe this of him.

“No, Captain Dennings, here is some evidence,” Joanna said from the doorway. She carried in Emily’s torn dress and handed it to the officer. His face blanched when he saw the ripped material. He glanced at Emily, anger showing in his eyes. He replaced it quickly with a cold, flinty stare.

“Let us return to the drawing room to discuss this further,” Michael suggested.

The soldier who tended Captain Walters gave Emily a smug smile. She brushed past him and followed Joanna and Michael to the stairs. Her mind raced as they descended. She must get Michael to believe her story. If he did not, she would surely be sent to prison.

“Would you care for tea, Captain Dennings?” Joanna asked as they entered the drawing room. She rang for Dulcie at Michael’s assent.

Emily stood by the hearth trembling and needing its warmth. Michael walked to the windows to check on his men, and then crossed to the drawing room door and closed it. He strode to Emily and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Em, are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

Emily collapsed into his arms in relief and sobbed.

“Oh, Michael, why did you frighten me so? Why did you treat me so cruelly?” she cried.

“I had to, Em. If this does not look like a fair and objective decision on my part, they will send for someone else to decide your fate. No one must know that you are my friend.” He shot a warning look at Joanna.

“You can trust Joanna, Michael,” Emily reassured him.

Michael looked down at her tenderly. He gently touched the bruise on her face. Anger filled him again.

“Walters has a reputation for this,” he spat. “I would like to go up and finish the job you started.”

“Michael, please,” Emily said.

Dulcie entered, and Michael quickly stepped away from Emily and sat down. They sat back and relaxed with their tea.

Emily explained again what had happened. Michael listened intently, his eyes blazing.

“We shall have to do this carefully, Em. Above all, do not let on that you know me.”

After tea, Michael returned to his men, and Emily and Joanna relaxed a bit. Perhaps Emily would be saved after all.

• • •

Captain Walters improved the next day and even regained consciousness briefly. Captain Dennings informed his men that they would remain for a time to see if Captain Walters would improve enough to tell his side of the story. The soldier who tended him continued giving Emily smug smiles that communicated his conviction that she would pay for injuring his captain.

Three days later, Walters had improved enough to stay alert for some time and was strong enough to be questioned. Michael dismissed the attending soldier and talked to Walters alone. He was with him for some time, and when he emerged he immediately sought Emily and Joanna in the drawing room. Again he checked the windows and closed the door. He sat beside Emily on the settee and took her hand.

“I have talked to Walters,” he said to her. “He was very weak, but very determined to see you punished.”

Emily’s heart sank.

“Oh, Michael, where will they send me? Michael, I am going to have a child. How can I go to prison if I am going to have a child?” she cried.

Michael’s glance inadvertently dropped to her waistline. He looked back up at her and blushed in embarrassment. He would not have noticed on his own, but now it was evident that Emily’s trim waistline had filled out.

“You will not go to prison, Em,” he promised. “You see Walters and I sampled many a tavern together. One night he outdid himself on ale, and there was an accident with a young prostitute. I was not there when it happened; he told me about it later … She did not survive, and her family brought charges against him. Of course, as a British officer he was able to have the charges dismissed, but not without a severe warning. In any event, I reminded him of it today. I doubt that he will charge you with any crime. In fact, I had the distinct impression he would like to leave Brentwood Manor as soon as possible.”

Emily threw her arms around Michael.

“You are a dear, dear friend!” she cried. “Oh, Michael, how can I ever thank you?”

“By taking good care of yourself and that babe. Congratulations, Emily,” he grinned, and then looked at her soberly. “Mine is one of the groups assigned to find Jonathon, Emily. If you know where he is, tell him to avoid the southeast coast. That is where they are concentrating.”

Emily’s eyes shone with gratitude; she clasped his hand.

“Actually, Michael, until these troops arrived, we believed Jonathon to be dead. With my own eyes I saw him shot, saw his body fall into the sea, and saw his body dragged into a skiff by the British. I could not believe it when Captain Walters said they were searching for him. When this conflict is over between us, Michael, I hope you will come back and visit as a friend,” she said sincerely.

“The conflict is between us, Emily? You side with the patriots?” he asked in surprise.

“I side with whoever is victimized by a stronger, tyrannical power, Michael. This was a source of bitterness between Jonathon and me, but now I understand what the colonies have been fighting for.”

• • •

The next afternoon David arrived with a group of armed men, Randy among them. They rode up the drive and halted at the camp. Michael came out to greet them.

“What are you doing here?” David demanded hotly.

“We are under orders to search for Jonathon Brentwood,” Michael replied.

“You and your men pack up and get out as soon as — ”

Emily and Joanna had come out of the manor when they saw him arrive. Joanna broke into a run.

“David! David, you are home!” He dismounted as she ran to him. He caught her up in his arms.

“Are you all right, Joanna?” he demanded.

“Yes, darling. Please come inside,” she asked.

“No. I intend to get these men out of here — ”

“David, please. You do not understand. Please come inside.”

“Yes, David. Randy, you too,” Emily added.

The two men followed them inside leaving the others to stare down the British.

“Please explain!” David demanded.

“Jonathon is alive!” Emily exclaimed.

“We had heard rumor of that in town. But no one knows where he is. He has disappeared,” Randy said.

“Emily was attacked by one of the soldiers,” Joanna blurted out. The men froze. “Emily — ” Randy crossed over to her, taking her hand.

“I am all right, Randy. But I made him pay. He lies upstairs recovering from his wound.”

The men looked at each other in apprehension, the ramifications apparent to them.

“Emily, did he — ” David did not know how to finish the sentence.

“No, David.”

A look of relief crossed his face, and then concern returned.

At a knock on the door, Dulcie ushered in Michael. David stiffened at his presence, and Randy clenched and unclenched his fists. Michael looked apprehensively at Emily.

“I trust these people with my life, Michael,” she said softly.

“Then you had best introduce us before they carry out whatever they are plotting at this moment,” he suggested.