Elizabeth Meyette (18 page)

“The Brentwood Plantation — ,” she did not even finish the sentence before a red-haired man rose, his six-foot-four inch frame dwarfing the men around him.

“What about the Brentwood Plantation?” he demanded. Jenny was amazed that a man of that size could close the distance between them so quickly. Now she looked up into green eyes fierce with urgency, fists doubled as if ready to join a fist-to-cuffs.

“The British are there. They are searching for Jonathon who visited the manor the other night. They have tracking dogs; they are on horseback, but Jonathon is safe and headed to the
Destiny
to get his crew.” Her sentences shot out in quick bursts, partly from lack of breath, partly because she was trembling.

She grabbed the door frame for support, but her legs buckled beneath her. She felt herself lifted into strong arms and carried to a chair where Randy settled her in and ordered some cider. When the tankard arrived, she drank deeply, dry from riding the dusty road. Feeling a little stronger, she turned to him urgently.

“We must be off quickly, Mr. O’Connor, for Jonathon hopes to meet up with you en route to Brentwood Plantation. We are not sure where Captain Walters — ”

“Captain Walters? Has that scoundrel returned? Oh yes, Jonathon would enjoy finding him and repaying his treatment of Emily,” he laughed. “But you need rest, Miss — what is your name? And how do you come from Brentwood Manor?” Randy asked, a frown creasing his brow.

“I am Jennifer Sutton; David Sutton is my uncle and I must find him as well.”

At the mention of David’s name, Randy signaled to another man to go in search of him. Then he turned his full attention to the young woman.

Jenny explained her arrival just a few months earlier, finishing with the events of the day. She watched his brow furrow in concentration as she spoke about the arrival of British troops that morning. When she had finished, he shouted orders to several of the men nearby who sprang into action. One of the men threw a longcoat and tricorn hat to him which he deftly caught.

“Please, Mr. O’Connor, I must find my uncle, and we must be off at once,” she said grabbing the sleeve of his linen shirt.

“Lass, call me Randy. My dear father was Mr. O’Connor,” he said good-humoredly. “We will be off very soon, as soon as the men are ready to ride. But you, lass, need some sleep and I know just the place for you.”

“No, please, Mr. — uh, Randy. I must return and see that Andrew is all right,” she clapped her hand to her mouth and felt the heat rise to her face in embarrassment. “That is to see that everyone is safe,” she amended.

Randy’s eyes crinkled at the corners and Jenny felt flushed.

“So we are to rescue young Andrew, Lass?” he teased. “Aye, we will see that all at Brentwood Manor are safe and well, but having a half-asleep lass will slow us down, do you not see? Rest here for a few hours and I will leave a couple of lads behind to escort you and your uncle back to the plantation. It is for the best — for both you and us.”

Jenny saw the logic of his argument and suddenly felt leaden. Her eyes were heavy and the relief of completing her task washed over her. The bedlam in the tavern became a dull, low, indistinct din that inundated her ears her making no sense at all. Suddenly a shout brought her to her senses.

“Jenny!” David rushed to her pulling her into his arms. “Are you all right? What are you doing here?” He released her looking her up and down for any sign of injury, and then gently set her back in her chair kneeling beside it and holding her hand.

Randy summarized Jenny’s information for David, whose eyes darkened as he listened. Jenny noticed the twitch in his jaw at the mention of Captain Walters.

“I must return with you, Randy!” He looked at Jenny. “Will you be all right if I leave you here to rest, Jenny? Randy has assigned some good men who will escort you back to Brentwood Manor safely — after we have routed the British out of there.”

Nodding, she rose and followed David to a room upstairs where a servant girl waited with a pitcher of fresh water and a clean frock. Kissing her forehead, David bid her goodnight and left. Jenny allowed the girl to assist her out of her damp clothes, and then she washed up and donned the fresh dress. Lying on the bed, she succumbed to sleep.

• • •

As the cry for independence increased, so did animosity between Loyalists and patriots. Many cities and towns were witness to brutal treatment of one side against another. After the discovery of an assassination plot against General Washington, New York city erupted into a frenzy of skirmishes between the opposing sides. Loyalists were attacked, beaten, and sometimes tarred and feathered. Anger mounted on both sides, and the British bore down on the patriots with renewed fervor. Fighting raged from the ports and cities and seeped into towns and the countryside.

Jonathon and his men rode through the darkness, ears sharp, guns at the ready. The early morning breeze brushed against his face as he rode in the lead reflecting on the night’s events. He had left Jenny at the crossroads to Williamsburg and assumed she had found Randy who would be well on his way by now. Upon arriving at the
Destiny
, he had roused Gates and together they had selected crew members to accompany Jonathon. Knowing that Walters was on a single-minded mission to find and kill him, Jonathon believed that Emily and the others would be safe; after all, Emily was Walters’s bait, so it would be foolish for him to harm her. If Walters killed Jonathon, he could not imagine what her fate would be. He shook his head; he could not allow thoughts like that to cloud his thinking. Taking a deep breath, he blew it out in a gust.

Splashes of red stretched across the eastern horizon signaling the break of day, but grey clouds hung leaden above them with the threat of a storm. Birdsong began intermittently in the trees, and shadows waned as a subdued dawn began to lighten the sky. Cantering at a steady pace, the group had made good time along the road, and Jonathon sensed before he saw the nearness of Brentwood property.

Holding up his left hand, he reined his mount to a halt and the others clustered around him. He looked at the faces surrounding him, stern in their determination, respect in the manner they returned his gaze, and he was grateful for these men. They had faced many dangers together at sea, and he was confident of their skill and loyalty as they faced this threat on land. He knew that he must be honest with them for that had been their covenant for all the years they had sailed together, and that was what had earned him their allegiance.

“I am not certain what to prepare for at present. The troops may still be at the manor, or they may be combing the woods for me. Be on guard to fight on horseback as well as ready to dismount and take up a position in the woods. You know our signal if you see British troops.”

The men murmured or nodded consent, and they continued on at a slower pace scouring the woods on either side of the road. Jonathon had several plans depending on the situation they encountered, and each had been laid out carefully before the men. Of one thing he was certain: he must kill Captain Arthur Walters.

• • •

The crystal vase of flowers was reflected in the huge cherry dining table, which was polished to a high gloss. Candles, lit against the morning gloom, held flames that flickered and danced in the soft breeze wafting in through the tall windows. All of it felt ludicrous to Emily as she surveyed the room. Here she was surrounded by rich tapestries, lush damask drapes, glistening crystal and somewhere out there Jonathon trudged through the woods or sloshed through swamps evading capture. She picked at the food before her, sliding the pieces of ham into the sliced fruit. A half-eaten biscuit rested on the side of her plate, the sweet syrup pooling at the center.

Where was he? Was he safe? Would he return to Brentwood Manor? To her? Why should he after her treatment of him in the parlor. And the major question of all: could she forgive him? Looking out the window, she spied Deidre in the distance walking in the garden. Gall rose in her throat, and her hatred of the woman burned within her. The image of her lying beside Jonathon came unbidden into Emily’s consciousness and she rubbed her fists against her eyes as if to banish it. How would she ever overcome this searing jealousy? How would she stop the image of them together from invading her mind? But underlying all the hatred, the jealousy, the fear, Emily knew that the flame of her love for Jonathon, however faintly it flickered today, had not been extinguished.

Emily looked up as Joanna entered and saw the sympathy in her eyes, unlocking a flood of tears. Falling into her sister-in-law’s embrace, Emily released the pent-up sorrow that had been her constant companion since the revelation of Deidre’s pregnancy.

“Emily, I am so sorry that you have to endure this,” Joanna said as she looked out the window.

Emily’s body racked with sobs as Joanna rubbed her back.

“Oh no,” Joanna whispered.

Emily followed her gaze out the window and her heart sank as she watched Captain Walters and his men ride up the drive. All the life drained out of her as she searched the group for any sign of Jonathon. As much as Walters wanted him dead, he would ensure that Jonathon would first suffer at the hands of British prison guards. Trembling, she rose and stepped to the window; relief swept over her as she realized they held no prisoner. Looking at Joanna who was white with fear, she took her hand and started toward the front foyer. Stopping in Jonathon’s study, she opened the gun cabinet, took out a pistol and tucked it between the folds of her skirt.

Together Emily and Joanna opened the front door to face the British soldiers. Walters had already dismounted and was about to climb the steps, but the women had come out on the porch and descended to him instead. Emily noted the grim line etched around Captain Walters’s mouth and ascribed it to his frustration in not finding Jonathon. She observed that the dogs were held at bay at the rear of the group this time should a quick departure be in order, and inwardly she smiled and sent up a prayer for Jenny’s well-being. Hearing a sound behind her, she glanced back and saw Andrew approaching from the out buildings, his musket held loosely in his hand. She returned her gaze to Captain Walters seeing the twitch of vexation in his jaw.

“I see you continue to search in vain,” she said.

“Your husband is elusive, but all is not lost, Mrs. Brentwood. We have picked up his trail and should overtake him soon.”

“And yet, you are here, Captain.” Her voice was even and low.

“I believe I shall leave a few more men behind to … let us say … protect you,” he sneered.

As he said this, the four soldiers who had remained behind approached from the stables and saluted their captain. Leaving the women and Andrew at the porch steps, the men gathered by the horses and conversed. Walters was clearly giving instructions as the others listened bending in to catch his every word.

Turning, he walked back and stood before Emily.

“Some of my men will remain here, and they will
not
be lodged in the stables. We are taking over the house, and my men will supervise the movements of everyone here.”

Emily gasped. “How dare you — ”

“I am a soldier of His Majesty, King George III and you are all his subjects. Certainly you, above all, understand that, Mrs. Brentwood.” He smiled into her eyes stepping closer to her. “My troops are prepared to enjoy your famous hospitality, and you are to treat them as you would an honored guest.” He pressed his face inches from hers. “Do I make myself clear, Mrs. Brentwood?” His lip curled up in a sneer as his eyes bored into hers.

“Move away from my sister,” Andrew said gripping his musket.

Walters turned his face toward Andrew but did not move away from Emily.

“Careful, Wentworth,” he warned.

Emily brought the pistol up and placed it against the captain’s chest.

“Move away,” she said.

Walters stepped back and smirked. “I see you siblings are much alike — both reckless in the guise of bravado. We’ll see how brave you are.”

He revealed his own pistol that had been tucked in his breeches. Still looking into Emily’s eyes, he raised his arm and fired. Andrew spun around and dropped to the ground.

Realizing his men and their horses had to rest, Jonathon led them into a copse of trees near a stream. While resting and watering their horses, Jonathon searched the nearby woods for any sign of the British. He paced the area where the men and animals rested circling out farther on each round. Over a rise, he spotted a wisp of smoke and crept in to investigate. Clearly, the troops had stopped there for the night, for there was evidence of a campfire and the surrounding ground had been trampled by many horses. Staying low, he surveyed the area for signs of any scouts left behind, and then he made his way back to his men.

“Gates, they were here just last night.” He kept his voice low, but excitement quickened his words. Pointing to the area he had just returned from, he indicated where the troops had stayed. He roused his men informing them of his find, and they gathered their supplies and headed over to the campsite. They entered the area in single file in an effort to preserve any traces of the direction the British had traveled when they left. Carefully searching the ground, Jonathon discovered their direction and his heart sank. They had ridden in the direction of Brentwood Manor. He dashed to his horse and mounted.

• • •

Emily screamed as she saw her brother fall. She hastened to him and knelt beside him as he writhed on the ground moaning.

“Oh, my God,” she cried. “Andrew, Andrew! Oh my God!”

She cradled him in her arms as Joanna knelt beside them. His eyes were closed, his mouth open gasping for breath and his right hand gripped his left shoulder.

“We need to stop the bleeding,” Joanna said, ripping the hem of her dress into a long strip and wrapping it around Andrew’s shoulder, pressing it against the wound.

“Let that be a warning to you, Mrs. Brentwood. I am weary of your silly games. I do promise you this, however; before I release your husband to the British prison, I will return here with him so each of you can enjoy the other’s suffering.” Laughing, he turned his horse and sped down the drive, his soldiers following.