Acadia Song 04 - The Distant Beacon (5 page)

“Then obviously there are others who think highly of you, besides my granddaughter.” Father John pointed to empty chairs. “Sit yourselves down, the both of you.”

Father John inspected them and said, “If I didn’t know better, I would say I was looking at royalty.”

Gordon cleared his throat. “Actually, sir—” “Gordon, no,” Nicole protested quietly.

“They need to know,” Gordon replied. “They are your family.”

Nicole dropped her eyes to the hands in her lap.

“Your daughter . . .” Gordon hesitated a moment and glanced at Nicole, clearly hoping for some sign of approval. But she didn’t raise her head. “That is, Nicole . . .”

“Out with it, man,” Father John said. “We already know her name.”

“Yes, sir. That is, well, she is actually a titled lady now.” Catherine couldn’t help but stare. “What do you mean?”

“It’s nothing, Mama,” Nicole said, her face embarrassed. “Really.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Nicole, but I must respectfully disagree.” Gordon continued in a rush, “Charles has elected to make Anne’s son, his closest heir by blood, the lord of the Harrow estate. But he has granted Nicole the title of viscountess.”

Catherine knew her mouth was open and she was staring round-eyed at this beloved stranger who was her daughter, yet she could think of nothing to say or do.

Father John, on the other hand, chuckled with glee. The sound was enough to lift even Nicole’s uncomfortable gaze. “Is this youth speaking the truth?” he asked.

“I—I believe so, Grandfather.”

He laughed even louder. “If that doesn’t beat all. The little one who leaves and is lost to us for nigh on twenty years, who then comes back, meets her uncle, and then goes off again, now returns a titled lady!” He slapped his knee. “I’ve lived to see it all, I have. I can die a happy man.”

“Don’t say that!” When she realized her daughter had exclaimed the exact same words as well, Catherine covered her mouth. The two of them stared at each other, on the verge of laughter and tears both.

But before they could give vent to either, the front door slammed open against the side wall. Still in his muddy riding boots, Andrew leaped across the room and gathered up his daughter in a tight embrace. He held her there for a long moment, the only sound in the room that of Father John’s chuckles.

“Look out there, will you,” the old man said, pointing a shaky finger out the door toward the carriage mired almost to its axles before their cottage. The driver and his helper had pulled the horses over to the nearby stable for currying and a good feed. “Almost like the king himself has come for tea.”

But Andrew seemed unaware of anything but the fact that he was holding his daughter. “Welcome home, my dear. Welcome home,” he whispered.

Catherine felt the bands around her chest begin to ease. Leave it to her husband to see beyond the finery and receive this lovely young woman back as their very own.

Father John smiled up at the pair of them and said, “Careful now, that’s a true viscountess you’re holding. One of them royals, she is.”

Andrew released her enough to stare into the tearstreaked face with a trembling smile. He brushed burnished locks from her damp cheek. “Oh,” he said, “I’ve always known that. Always.”

Chapter 4

Many more surprises followed Nicole’s arrival. On the second day, Father John had felt well enough to take his first walk through the village since the previous summer. He made his way up their lane toward the village square, Nicole to his right, holding his arm and elbow with both hands, and Gordon doing the same on his left. The two young people so towered over the bent old man that they could exchange glances and remarks over his bowed head. Catherine knew this because she watched them through her kitchen window. She saw how the two of them looked at each other, their glances lingering, and she saw the tenderness come to the young man’s stalwart features. Her little window had shown her so much of the world. It now revealed to her two new things. First, that her daughter was deeply in love yet unable to acknowledge it even to herself . And second, that when the young man departed, so too would Nicole.

The third day’s noon meal was interrupted by a great clattering of horses and men pulling up outside their cottage. A voice Catherine recognized as one of the village boys piped loud and clear, “This here’s the cottage, your lordship, sir! Right through there.”

“That’s a good lad. Here now, a bright new king’s shilling for your trouble.”

Gordon was already up and moving for the door. His previous courteous and affable demeanor was gone. In its place was a man who had learned through hardship and trial to bear the mantle of command. He paused only long enough to give his military bow and say to Catherine, “Your pardon, ma’am.” He then flung open the door and cried, “I say there, what’s the meaning of this?”

“Captain Goodwind?”

“The same.”

“I seek the Viscountess Lady Harrow.”

“To what purpose, my man?”

“I am purser to his lordship, the governor of Halifax.”

“Of course, I recognize you now.” Gordon turned back to the little group inside. “Your pardon, Miss Nicole. But I fear this requires your personal attention.”

Nicole rose. “Excuse me, Mama.”

“Of course, dear.” Catherine could scarcely say the term of endearment, for before her stood a lady of regal bearing. Clearly Andrew felt the same. He reached for Catherine’s hand as Nicole crossed the front room.

“Good day to you, sir,” they heard Nicole say.

“Your pardon, Viscountess, but his lordship urgently requires the carriage, as his other has been damaged by a mud slide. He asks if you might be making the return journey this day.”

“That is quite impossible.”

Sunlight through the open front door made the room’s shadows even deeper. Andrew’s face fell into a deep frown of concern. Catherine knew her own features mirrored his reaction. There was no pleasure to be found even in the news that Nicole was remaining with them at least a while longer. Her imminent departure had been all but announced.

The governor’s steward said, “Then I must respectfully ask if your ladyship is willing to return by horseback.”

“Of course.”

“The governor will be most relieved to hear this, ma’am. He apologizes most profusely, but the carriage is to return with us, and without delay. I’ve brought saddle horses for you and Captain Goodwind. And the packhorse you see here.”

“That will do us perfectly well, thank you.”

Catherine found the strength to call over, “Nicole dear.”

Nicole looked around, instantly transformed to the softer self, the familiar daughter. “Yes, Mama?”

“Ask the gentleman if he has had lunch.” Nicole seemed momentarily at a loss.

Andrew spoke up. “We do not stand upon class in this house, my dear. You should ask the gentleman if he would like to come inside.”

“It’s not that, Papa,” Nicole replied.

It was Gordon who responded, “I fear there is more than just the one gentleman, sir.”

Gordon pushed open the door fully. Catherine craned about the table and held her breath at the sight of an entire retinue lined up outside the cottage. A dozen men and more, all bearing the sabers and redcoats of the mighty hussars, were seated upon their elegant steeds.

Turning back to the men, Gordon said, “The lady of the house wishes to inquire if you and your men have brought sufficient provisions.”

Although the lead man likely couldn’t pierce the interior shadows, he leaned over the horse’s head and saluted the house. “My thanks, lady. We have vittles aplenty. But the horses could use some fresh water.”

“I’ll walk you to the stables.” Gordon bowed a second time to Catherine. “Your pardon, ma’am, but I must interrupt this wonderful repast and see to the matter at hand.”

“I’ll place a cloth over your plate until you return,” Catherine answered weakly.

The governor’s steward continued, “Your lieutenant has sent the provisional bills of lading for your inspection, Captain. If you don’t mind, sir, I request that you review them and formulate your response without delay. We’re due back forthwith.”

The men and the noise moved down the lane. Catherine felt the sharp pain of departure twist slightly in her heart at the words
bills of lading
. They held the tone of sea journeys and danger and the conflict beyond their sheltered haven. All those things she would keep at arm’s length for those she loved.

Catherine watched her daughter return to the table and saw how her features showed no hint of what had just transpired. In fact, they revealed little save a determined calm. But Catherine could see Andrew also watching their daughter, obviously sensing the same things as Catherine. Their daughter was here with them for only a brief time.

Father John seemed utterly untouched by the coming separation. Instead he grinned as he dipped his biscuit into the gravy. “Hussars and the governor’s own man, redcoats saluting and horses stamping. All just outside our front gate. That’ll set a hawk amidst the village pigeons, you mark my words.” His cackle sounded a bit like one of those hawks.

The fourth day of Nicole’s visit was the Sabbath. Father John’s words proved prophetic, for never had the church been so full. Not on Christmas, nor Easter. People lined the way from the square to where the church stood within its white-fenced green. Father John strode like a man who overnight had shed twenty of his years. Nicole held to his arm and returned the villagers’ greetings with quiet warmth. Gordon Goodwind escorted Catherine with a gentleman-officer’s serious bearing. He attracted almost as much attention as Nicole. Many Loyalist settlers had migrated north since the American conflict erupted. Most had never exchanged personal greetings with a real British officer before that day. The fact that Gordon Goodwind was a noncombatant and wore the swordless dress uniform of the merchant service mattered not a whit. Bevies of round-eyed boys threw pretend salutes as he passed, and young village girls blushed and giggled behind their hands at the handsome officer.

If only Catherine could give herself fully to the wonder of this good day.

After the service, Nicole joined her mother in preparing the Sabbath meal. Father John dozed quietly by the fire. The day was warm enough for Andrew to invite Gordon to join him on the bench outside their front door. The men’s words floated clear and easy through the kitchen window.

“My compliments to you, sir,” Gordon said. “Seldom am I moved by church services. But your words and your manner touched me most deeply.”

“I am more interested in your normal response,” Andrew said in a calm tone, “than by what you felt this day.”

“An officer is a man who stands alone. We are trained to rely on our own judgment and the strength of our good right hand.”

“I would feel far more comforted to know that God formed a part of this strength.”

What Gordon thought of his words being so evidently overheard, Catherine could not tell. But she noticed that Nicole paused in her work to listen as her escort responded, “I am well aware of the Lord, sir.”

“You will permit me to speak freely?”

“Of course.”

“I wonder if you might be treating our heavenly Father as you would a distant ally. Someone best kept at arm’s length.”

“On the contrary, sir. I am certain He is out there and available should I ever have need of Him.”

“Alas,” Andrew countered. “That is the only time such a conversation might take place between you and your Maker. When one is
required
?”

Gordon’s laugh sounded nervous. “I can only hope such a time should never come, sir.”

“Of course not,” Andrew murmured.

Nicole stood staring at nothing but the blinding sunlight streaming through the window. After a long moment, she sighed quietly and returned to her work.

Following their meal, Nicole asked Andrew, “May I have your permission to walk with Gordon out to the point?”

“Yes, my dear,” he said without pause.

When Nicole reached for the wrap she had worn to market the previous day, with its lace trimmings and the lovely butterflies sewn in blue silk, Catherine hastened to offer her own shawl. “For warmth,” she murmured.

“Oh yes, thank you.”

Catherine handed her daughter the best she owned, a cotton and linen mix she had woven herself. Looking at the rough weave wrapped about Nicole and her auburn tresses spilling over her shoulders, Catherine found her heart moved by this remarkable blend of the daughter she had sent off and the one who had returned to her. On impulse she reached for Nicole and held her close and then somehow managed to whisper, “You are my sweet, dear daughter.”

“Oh, Mama.”

But when Catherine had seen the couple off and returned to where the two men sat by the fire, she found her husband staring at the glowing embers. Catherine glanced over to make sure Father John was comfortable and saw that the old man’s chin rested against his chest, his eyes closed. She decided there was no need to awaken him just to have him go and sleep elsewhere. Instead she turned to Andrew and said in a low voice, “Tell me what is on your heart, husband.”

He spoke to the embers. “I am concerned about Gordon Goodwind.”