Surrender the Night (8 page)

R
ose adjusted her sprigged muslin gown and fingered the lace trim on her collar. She gazed out the window of the landau as they traveled down Calvert Street. Beside her Amelia pinched her cheeks and chattered incessantly about who she was going to see at church, which couples she had heard were courting, and which privateers might be in town.

Amelia glanced out the coach’s small window with a sigh. “Privateering is so romantic.”

Aunt Muira exchanged a smile with Rose at the woman’s fanciful views of life. Dressed in a plain cotton gown of emerald green, Rose’s aunt looked much younger than her fifty-eight years. Perhaps it was the love she shared with Uncle Forbes that kept her so young and vibrant. Rose wondered if she would ever find such happiness with a man.

She turned her gaze back to Amelia and saw her wistful expression. “Privateering is anything but romantic, Amelia.” Rose clasped her gloved hands together in her lap, noticing the tremble that went through them. “It is difficult and dangerous work.”

“Oh why must you be such a crosspatch, Rose.” Amelia closed her eyes as the breeze blowing in through the window sent her dark curls twirling over her neck. “I daresay I hope I am never as frightened as
you are of everything.”

Rose lowered her chin beneath the affront, yet before her anger had a chance to swell, she remembered her trembling hands. As curt as Amelia was, her maid spoke the truth.

Aunt Muira leaned forward and touched Rose’s hands. “How are you faring, dear?” Her dress brought out the deep green in her eyes—eyes full of concern.

“It grows easier each time I travel into town.” Rose smiled and her aunt squeezed her hands and leaned back on the leather seat. Though Rose knew her aunt referred to the tragedy that had befallen Rose years ago, it was the recent assault by Garrick that had Rose’s nerves twisted in a knot. In fact, despite her trembling hands, she was proud of herself that the incident had not kept her from her Sunday trip into town. A trip she’d only found the courage to take during the past few years. Before that, constant dangers that lurked on the city streets had kept her home frozen in fear. Yet now she was beginning to wonder whether her farm offered her any refuge at all.

Bright morning sun angled across the carriage windows and glittered over Aunt Muira’s pearl earrings—a remnant of the lady’s former wealth. Her jewelry being the only luxury she had kept from her past.

As they turned down Baltimore Street, Rose adjusted her bonnet and gazed at the brightly colored homes passing by in a rainbow of colors. Mulberry and hackberry trees lined the avenue while pink and red hollyhocks dotted the landscape. Turning, they ascended a small bridge that crossed over Jones Falls River into the east side of the city. The wooden planks creaked and groaned beneath the weight of the carriage. The
clip-clop
of the horses’ hooves echoed over the sparkling water that frolicked over boulders and fallen branches toward the sea. On days like this, it was hard to imagine that their country was at war. It was hard to imagine being frightened of anything.

Aunt Muira smiled at Rose—a calm, loving smile that reminded Rose of her mother’s. A pang of longing pinched her heart. Oh how she longed to talk with her own mother—to share her fears, her hopes, her disappointments. Though Aunt Muira didn’t hide her love for Rose, neither did she harbor much patience for Rose’s timid temperament.

The smell of salt from the nearby port mixed with the sweet nectar
of flowers blew in through the window, and Rose drew a deep breath. She looked forward to Sundays—a day of rest and worship. Safely surrounded by family, it was a day she could get away from the farm. Away from her problems.

From the British officer hiding in the icehouse.

A twinge of guilt stiffened her. While it was the Christian thing to do, Rose felt like a traitor to her country for helping Mr. Reed. She should hate him. She should want him dead for what his countrymen had stolen from her. But after he returned her insults with courtesy and her threats with graciousness, she could conjure no feelings of contempt toward him. Regardless, she must put him from her mind. His strength was returning and he’d soon be gone. Back to his ship. Back to his nightly raids.

Back to being her enemy.

“You seem lost in your thoughts today, my dear,” Aunt Muira said.

“Yes, forgive me.” Rose gripped the window frame as the coach jostled over a bump in the road. “How was your trip to Washington?”

Her aunt’s lips pursed. “Worthwhile.” She shook her head as a breeze sent her red curls dancing. “My heart saddens for those poor little ones. This war has stripped many children of their parents. And of course, Reverend Hargrave takes them all in. Why, the orphanage is bursting at the seams with lost, desperate children.” The lines on her face seemed to deepen as she spoke. “And with only dear Edna there to assist him. No one in Washington seems to care. They are far too busy with their politics and their fancy balls.”

Amelia tore her gaze from the window. “I see no harm in an occasional ball. It is most agreeable to have a pleasant diversion from the war.”

Rose cringed at the impropriety of her maid chastising the lady of the house.

Yet Aunt Muira only smiled. “I quite agree, Amelia.” She tugged upon her white gloves. “I myself enjoy a good soiree now and then, yet never at the expense of the comfort of those in need.”

Amelia nodded as the landau pulled up in front of Uncle Forbes’s small stone church. Mr. Markham leaped down from the driver’s perch and assisted them one by one to the cobblestone walkway leading to the front door. A sign by its side read F
IRST
P
RESBYTERIAN
C
HURCH
.

R
EVEREND
F
ORBES
D
RUMMOND
. Pride swelled within Rose for her uncle’s accomplishments.

An odd assortment of people ambled through the open front doors, ladies in gowns of calico and pastel muslin, trimmed with ribbons and long colorful scarves. Wide-brimmed bonnets decorated with brightly colored plumes graced their heads. The more fashionable men wore silk breeches and white stockings, cocked hats, lacy cravats, and high-collared coats. Fishermen and seamen dressed in stained cotton shirts and breeches that smelled of fish and brine entered the church right alongside the ladies and gentlemen in their finest and took seats in the back or along the upper balcony.

Rose smiled at the diverse crowd her uncle drew to church as she slipped into their assigned pew near the front. Amelia and Aunt Muira eased in beside her. Cool air swirled around her, enveloping her in the musky aged smell of the church—a smell that always seemed to settle Rose’s nerves. As Mr. Smithers, the organist, began to play, a white blur brought Rose’s attention to Marianne, her good friend, waving her gloved hand. Her one-year-old son, Jacob, crawled up in her lap as her husband, Noah, eased in beside her and nodded his greeting to Rose.

Rose waved in return. Her heart lifted to see her friend so happy. And also to see that Noah was back in town. Although their relationship had not begun on the best of terms, Marianne and Noah were truly blessed with a great marriage. Rose had no idea how Marianne endured his long absences or the danger he was constantly under as a privateer during wartime. But the sweet woman had a peace about her that Rose envied. Her uncle stepped out from a side door and took his place by the retable. After leading the congregation in several hymns, he began his message. Though his sermons were usually quite thought-provoking, Rose found her mind unable to focus today. Instead, she gazed at her uncle, admiring the man who had once been nothing but an indentured servant.

After the sermon, they stood to sing another hymn before the crowd slowly filtered out of the now stifling church into the stifling summer sun. Rose led Amelia and her aunt to stand in the shade of an elm tree while she peered through the crowd for Marianne. Several young gentlemen and not a few seamen cast admiring glances toward
Rose and Amelia. Giggling, Amelia drew her fan out and waved it enticingly about her face.

“Be careful, or you’ll signal one of them to come this way.” Rose stiffened her jaw. The last thing she needed was to endure some man’s amorous dalliance.

“Perhaps that is what I wish.” Amelia gave her a playful glance. “At least the rich ones.”

“Oh my.” Aunt Muira gave a hefty sigh. “What are we to do with you?”

Smiling, Marianne emerged from the crowd, young Jacob in her arms and her sister, Lizzie, by her side. “There you are. I was hoping you hadn’t left. We have so much to catch up on.” The shorter woman gazed up at Rose just as Jacob grabbed the edge of her bonnet and pulled it down over her eyes. “Oh drat. He’s become quite a handful.” Marianne nudged her bonnet back up and kissed Jacob on the cheek.

Lizzie cocked her head, sending brown curls bobbing. “Good morning, Miss Rose.”

“I can’t believe how big you are getting, Lizzie,” Rose said.

“I am nine now. Almost ten.” The girl announced with a bit of pride.

“Indeed.” Rose leaned over. “You have become quite a lovely young lady. Before we know it, you’ll be all grown and married like your sister.”

Lizzie smiled up at her sister as a blush blossomed on her cheeks.

Aunt Muira brushed her fingers over Jacob’s soft skin, a look of longing in her moistening eyes. “He is absolutely precious, Mrs. Brenin.”

Rose grabbed her aunt’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Why the good Lord had not given children to such wonderful people, Rose would never understand.

Her aunt leaned toward Lizzie. “And my niece is correct. What a young lady you have become, Miss Lizzie. Is that a new dress?”

The little girl beamed and twirled around, sending the flowered calico fluttering in the wind. “Yes, it is.”

“It is lovely.”

“And I have good news.” Marianne’s brown eyes glowed. “I am with child again.”

“Truly? I am so glad!” Rose’s eyes drifted down to Marianne’s belly just barely rounding beneath her gown.

Noah appeared by her side and took Jacob from her arms.

“You are looking well, Noah.” Rose gazed at his sun-streaked hair and bronzed face. “Privateering agrees with you.”

He shared a knowing glance with his wife. “It is my calling, to be sure. My duty to my country. And I won’t complain that it is also quite lucrative.” He tossed Jacob into the air, eliciting a giggle from the boy. The babe’s white lacy gown billowed in the breeze, revealing his chubby legs. “I do, however, long for the day when I can spend more time home with my family.”

Marianne’s eyes brimmed with love. “You’d be bored silly at home. As it is, I’m happy with the time we have together.”

She faced Rose. “Would you care to spend the afternoon with us, Rose? And Amelia and your aunt and uncle, of course. We plan to have our meal at an inn by the docks then take a stroll down Market Street.”

Rose hesitated. The docks meant ships and ships meant sailors. Yet surely with Noah and her uncle along, she would be safe. Ignoring the fear gurgling in her belly, she lifted a questioning brow toward her aunt. Amelia crowded beside her, nearly bursting with excitement.

Aunt Muira tightened her lips and glanced toward the port. “I don’t know, dear. I hoped you would accompany me to Mrs. Pickersgill’s. She’s most anxious to inform us of her new charity for women and children orphaned by the war. You did say you wanted to help, didn’t you?”

Rose bit her lip, guilt and longing waging war in her thoughts. Yes, she did. But after what happened with Garrick, the thought of facing women who had suffered as she had caused a lump to form in her throat. “Please forgive me, Aunt, but I … I … do not think I am up to the task today. Can we go later in the week?” She avoided looking at the frown that must certainly be upon her aunt’s lips and focused instead on Noah tickling his son beneath the chin.

“I shall be with them every moment, Mrs. Drummond.” Noah came to her rescue. “And I will drive Rose and Amelia home in my carriage before sundown.”

“Oh do say they can join us, Mrs. Drummond.” Marianne held her bonnet down against a burst of salt-laden wind. “Amelia would be such a help with Lizzie while Rose and I catch up on news.”

Aunt Muira glanced at her husband who was still greeting people as they left the church.

“Very well, I suppose so.” Aunt Muira withdrew a handkerchief and dabbed at the perspiration on her neck. “But be home in time for supper, my dear. You know how cantankerous Cora gets when we are late.”

Rose kissed her aunt on the cheek and watched her join her husband, then she turned toward her friends. “Shall we?” She threaded her arm through Marianne’s as they sauntered down the pathway toward Pratt Street and the docks.

“You have come a long way, Rose,” Marianne whispered as they neared the water.

Rose glanced over the harbor that was bustling with activity. “Not as far as you think. My nerves are a bundle of knots even as we speak.”

Marianne patted her hand. “Well, all the more reason I’m glad you joined us. You are safe with us.” She glanced at her husband walking ahead with Jacob in his arms. “My husband can handle the fiercest rogues, I assure you.”

Rose admired Noah’s strength and confidence as he strolled down the street. She longed for her own protector. But how could she trust any man after what had happened?

As they approached the water, the bare masts of dozens of ships rose like a thicket of bare winter trees. Bells clanged, workers shouted, street vendors hawked their wares, children laughed, and somewhere in the distance music played. The malodorous smells of the harbor mixed with pleasant scents of food as the group hurried to get out of the hot sun and gathered into Chamberlain’s tavern. There, they claimed a table on the open patio and enjoyed a refreshing pitcher of lemonade, spiced cake, and fresh crab.

A breeze wafted in from the port, cooling the perspiration on Rose’s arms. Lizzie sat beside Amelia, who seemed most pleased to have finally found someone who would listen to her opinionated narrative on the fashion, status, wealth, and courting rituals of those citizens who had the misfortune of passing by the tavern. Noah entertained his son while Marianne and Rose drew their heads together catching up on all that had passed since they’d last visited.