Elizabeth Meyette (7 page)

“Yes, Joanna informed me of this yesterday. How very thoughtful of you to be so concerned for this young woman when the life of your husband is in such danger. I imagine my thoughts would lie with him day and night if I were you. How terrible to sit here day after day not knowing his fate or even if he still lives. I am impressed by your courage and ability to put him out of your thoughts,” Deidre said.

Emily’s eyes sparked and she bolted upright.

“How dare you question my love for Jonathon! He is never out of my thoughts or prayers and it is abhorrent of you to suggest otherwise. Be careful what you say, Deidre. You are in no position to anger me,” Emily snapped.

“Oh, dear, Emily, you misunderstand me. I never intended to question your love of Jonathon; I was merely complimenting your abundance of compassion. That you could even consider the safety of David’s niece while you daily live with the anguish of ignorance about Jonathon’s health and safety is admirable. You misinterpreted my compliment.” Deidre rose and straightened her skirt, dusting it off lightly. “I apologize if I offended you in any way,” she said, patting Emily’s hand.

Emily watched as Deidre walked away, unconsciously wiping the spot where the woman’s hand had touched hers.

• • •

Randy approached the cabin as the sun was sinking below the tree line. The peacefulness of the woods was a balm after the upheaval of port cities. Breathing in the pine scent, cool and crisp, he reviewed the day’s events. Emotions were running high in Williamsburg as talk of independence from England became more and more heated. As the largest of the colonies, Virginia possessed enormous influence, and its actions could sway other colonies to favor independence, too. Britain’s demands on the colonies to fund the army and navy and recoup economic stability after the war with the French had become untenable, and rebellion had been simmering for years. Now it had come to a head, and the call for independence from England was mounting. The Raleigh Tavern in Williamsburg was a center for debate and planning, and it was from just such a lively session that Randy was returning. Approaching the cabin, he took the usual precautions, carefully scanning the woods for hidden spies. He had taken a circuitous route there, doubling back several times to ensure he was not being followed. They had planned carefully for Jonathon’s safety as he was not only a good friend, but instrumental in the effort against the British. His work for the Committees of Correspondence using his ship, the
Destiny
, was well-known, and many patriot successes were due to his courageous leadership. He had rallied many to the cause, and there was much more he was needed for in order to continue the fight. No, it was not just friendship that called Randy to aide Jonathon; he was, in essence, a major part of the spirit of the revolution.

Riding up to the cabin, Randy secured his horse to a tree, removed two overstuffed saddlebags and stepped up to the door. It was quiet, as usual, but Randy sensed an added layer to the quiet. Opening the door, he stepped into the shadowy room. Jonathon lay against the pillow, his face pale, his arm thrown over his eyes. Randy hurried to the bedside.

“Are you well, Jonathon? What is it?” Randy asked. Concern gripped him as he dared to think that all of their ministrations had been for naught. “Jonathon, are you ill? What do you need?”

Jonathon lowered his arm and looked at the friend who had shared his life, a trusted friend. Self-loathing again surged through him, and he ripped open his shirt revealing scarlet strips angled across the wounds inflicted by the British. Jaw clenched, twitching with anger, he spat out his words.

“Nothing that the British did can compare to the consequence of these scars.”

Randy looked at him in confusion, shifting his eyes from the fresh wounds to Jonathon’s face.

“Whatever happened to you, Jonathon? Did the British find you? Who was here?” he asked, for indeed, if the British had discovered Jonathon, he would be dead. These were surface scratches, certainly not even life-threatening. The gravity of Jonathon’s situation left no room for injuries such as this.

“Deidre,” Jonathon whispered, his voice strangled with emotion.

Randy looked at him, uncomprehending. Nothing was making sense. He pieced together what he was seeing with Jonathon’s words, and slowly comprehension dawned.

“Good God,” he breathed.

“She was here and … ” Jonathon could not continue. He closed his eyes and brushed his hands across his eyes as if blocking out the scene. “I had to — she threatened Emily and our child. I tried to talk sense into her, but I think she is crazed. Randy, I had to, do you understand?”

“You lay with her?” Randy demanded.

“She threatened to harm, no to kill, Emily and the baby, Randy. I talked to her, tried to reason with her, but she was like one possessed. One minute laughing and gay, the next menacing. She was like someone I did not know. No, she was like the darkest side of Deidre that one could imagine. Yes, I did lie with her. I am ashamed — ashamed that I could not fight her. Ashamed that I cannot be with my wife to protect her! And the worst thing is, even though I succumbed to her, there is no guarantee that Emily is safe. Emily must never know, Randy. I must leave this place and be far away where she can never see these marks that shame me.”

Randy’s mind raced with the consequences of this news. How could all of the precautions they took to hide Jonathon from the British be undone by one scheming woman? Anger rose like bile within him and he stood and paced the room. Kicking one of the saddlebags, he swore an oath and continued back and forth across the room.

“We must move you immediately. Gates is not far behind me, and he is in a carriage. Are you strong enough to be moved?” Randy asked.

“I am far stronger now than when you first brought me here. Yes, I can be moved, but Randy no one else can know what happened,” Jonathon said.

“Gates has been tending your wounds, man. He will certainly see that witch’s marks,” Randy said.

“Of course, you are right, and Gates is my trusted friend. But please, we must keep any knowledge of this from Andrew.”

Randy nodded. Andrew adored his sister, and learning what Deidre had done, and was threatening to do, could lead him to murder. No, they would find another reason to justify Jonathon’s move. He looked over at his friend who stared off in the distance, anger simmering just below the surface. He would heal, and this anger might even spur that on. Randy did not envy Deidre when Jonathon fully recovered.

“We must get a message to David. I worry about Emily’s safety in the manor with that woman. We will send Andrew with two messages, one explaining my relocation to Emily, and one warning David of the peril she is in now,” Jonathon said. “But how do we explain this danger to him without revealing what occurred?”

Randy thought about that for a while, but neither man could construct an excuse for Deidre’s threat to Emily.

“We will have to inform him as to what occurred here,” Jonathon admitted. He slumped against the pillow, exhausted and overwhelmed.

Spring brought the war ever closer to Virginia, and the
Destiny
was busy sailing up and down the coast delivering messages, personnel and munitions. Loaded down with cannon, she looked vastly different from her days as a merchant ship and conveyer of Emily from London to Virginia two years earlier. Under the competent leadership of Robert Gates, the
Destiny
continued fighting for the patriot cause that was Jonathon’s vision.

John Murray, Lord Dunmore, governor of Virginia had fled to a navy ship off the coast of Virginia several months earlier, but from there Dunmore continued raids against plantations and forays into towns. Most of the Loyalists had followed his example, fleeing to British ships as violence on land escalated. British troops continued marching through Virginia, but it was becoming more difficult for them with most of their support at sea. The squadron searching for Jonathon realized they were on a wild goose chase and returned to the area around Brentwood Plantation.

• • •

Joanna was walking in the garden with William, who was just beginning to teeter with unsteady steps. An early morning rain had freshened the plants and left shallow puddles that she deftly navigated. The toddler lurched along, gripping his mother’s fingers and beaming with glee, his giggles merging with her laughter as it wafted on the afternoon breeze. Stumbling and recovering, Will made his way between the neat hedgerows delighted with his own progress. Joanna’s heart swelled with joy as she beheld her miracle child, born healthy and happy after several miscarriages and the loss of an infant. As she guided him back in the direction of the manor, she heard the pounding of horses’ hooves approaching. Stopping to look, she automatically picked up a protesting and wiggling Will holding him closer at the sight of scarlet uniforms. She hastened toward the manor noting that Emily was rising from her seat on the veranda. Gripped by fear for Jonathon’s safety, Joanna’s legs wobbled beneath her as unsteady as Will’s had just been.

The riders slowed their pace to a trot as they neared the manor, and Joanna joined Emily to meet them. Relief rushed over both women as they recognized Captain Michael Dennings in the lead. Although an officer in the British army, Michael had proven to be an ally a few months earlier when Emily, fending off an attempted rape, had seriously injured another British officer, Captain Arthur Walters, almost killing him. In danger of being arrested and possibly hanged, Emily was saved when Michael stepped in and forced Walters to drop the charges. Michael and Emily had grown up together in London, and eventually Michael had proposed allowing Emily an opportunity to remain in London rather than sail to Virginia with Jonathon. Already falling in love with Jonathon, Emily had refused Michael’s proposal not knowing she had broken his heart. His miraculous appearance when Emily was in desperate need, gave the women hope that again he would help their cause. They found each other’s hand and gave a squeeze in mutual support and optimism. The troops halted in front of them.

“Good morning, Mrs. Brentwood,” Michael said formally. Emily knew that she must not reveal the friendship they shared at the risk of endangering both Jonathon and Michael.

“Captain Dennings,” she nodded. “Do you have news of my husband?”

“We have been unable to locate him, and have once again returned to advise you to surrender him for your own safety,” he said curtly.

Emily remained silent for she knew she would be unconvincing if she attempted to lie about her knowledge of his whereabouts. Sensing her reluctance, Joanna replied.

“We have no knowledge of my brother’s whereabouts,” she said honestly, for indeed, she herself had no knowledge of his location.

Michael dismounted, handing his horse’s reins to a soldier. With his back to his men, he stood before Emily looking into her eyes, cautiously choosing his words.

“Mrs. Brentwood, I assure you we will be scouring Brentwood land in search of your husband. When we find him, and we will find him, he will be returned to Norfolk to hang as a traitor to the king.” His words were callous and cold; his eyes held a contradictory kindness and warning. Emily understood and silently thanked him for his caveat. Gratitude flashed for an instant in her eyes, and he understood, and then she spat her words loud enough for all of his men to hear.

“Captain Dennings, you will never find my husband. He is not foolish enough to remain in this area, or perhaps even in Virginia. You may search all you wish, but it will be in vain.”

Snapping a smart salute, Michael turned and mounted his horse. He looked down at Emily, sneering.

“We shall see just how foolish a man in love with his wife can be,” he said. Turning his horse, he shouted a command and the troops rode off.

“Joanna, we must get word to Jonathon to move immediately,” Emily cried.

“They will have scouts watching our every move, Emily. If anyone in the household should leave, he most certainly will be followed. We would lead the British right to him,” Joanna answered.

“Oh, good heavens, what are we to do? I feel trapped like an animal, and Jonathon will surely be captured,” Emily said, pacing along the drive. “What if we send one of the grooms?

“They will be watching for any activity now. We must bide our time and hope they do not stumble across his hiding place before we can warn him,” Joanna answered.

Deidre appeared at the front door of the manor and rushed down the steps to join the women.

“What were British troops doing here? Have they captured Jonathon?” she asked, a note of panic in her voice.

Emily looked at Joanna, then at Deidre trying to determine what to tell her. Dissembling was not natural for Emily, but something within urged caution, and she tried to remain as ambiguous as possible.

“They have been searching for Jonathon along the southeastern coast based on a tip Captain Dennings had received. Not finding any trace of him there, they have returned to search Brentwood land thoroughly,” Emily said, watching Deidre’s face go ashen.

“My God,” Deidre whispered, tears in her eyes.

Both women noticed the intensity of her reaction, each drawing a different conclusion.

“Deidre, I told Captain Dennings that Jonathon had probably fled the colony by now; he could be in Boston or Philadelphia, or — do not fear, Deidre, I am sure Jonathon is far away by now,” Emily said, trying to console the obviously upset woman while trying to stem her own panic within. In a way, she was touched by Deidre’s concern for Jonathon.

Joanna narrowed her eyes as she observed Deidre’s reaction and suspicion grew within her. She had no doubt that there was more to the force of the woman’s emotions.

The women climbed the steps and entered the manor. The marble floor and shuttered windows of the foyer provided a cool respite from the growing warmth outside. Before them the marble staircase gracefully curved arcing up to the second floor. A breeze blew from the opened door at the end of the hall moving the air across the entrance. Suddenly drained of energy and needing quiet to think, Emily headed for the staircase. Deidre watched her slow ascent, an eerie glint in her eyes.