Love’s Betrayal (5 page)

Henry strained to hear the woman who had vexed him so. Could she be a follower of the Lord and Master, Jesus Christ?

“Heavenly Father, we are gathered here in concern over our mother and the unborn child. We are asking Thee to guard her and keep the babe safe in the shelter of Thy wings. Papa wants a son in a powerful way, so we're asking Thee to bless him with a boy.”

“And mend the leg of the soldier we are keeping here,” another voice added.

“That is very thoughtful of you, Remember,” Delight said a moment later. “Lord, help me to hold my temper with him so I shan't disappoint Thee. In Jesus' name, amen.”

Henry chuckled. Some aspects of this family were a bit amusing.

He slept fitfully during the evening. The events of the impending birth had the Butler family bustling about, and they seemed to forget him in the excitement, which suited him just fine. When darkness settled, Elijah entered the hall. He towered over Henry, the expanse of his shoulders outlined by the firelight from the kitchen.

“Mr. O'Neill,” he said with a slight edge to his tone.

Henry ached from the day's journey and the endless pain in his leg. “Yes sir.”

Elijah bent beside him. “Let me give you a word of warning. Are you a family man?”

“No sir. I have never married.”

“My family means more to me than you could ever imagine. If I find out that you have harmed one of them in any way, I will cut your other leg off myself. My wife and daughters are the reason God gives me breath. They come second only to God, and my beloved country is third. For those considerations, I would gladly give my life.”

Henry heard more passion in this man's words than from many of his commanding officers. He didn't doubt for one minute that Elijah Butler would take an axe to his good leg if he upset his family. Visions of the man's daughters, especially Delight with her quick temper, raced across his mind. “I understand perfectly.”

Elijah rose to stand over him again. His mood instantly brightened. “This is a fine night. A new birth is a blessing, and my sister-in-law says it shan't be too long.” He turned and walked from the hall.

“Mr. Butler,” Henry called out. “I will be praying for your wife and the babe. My mother birthed fifteen children, twelve living, and I well remember how we prayed for her.”

The man spun around. “I've been lucky that all of my children have survived save a twin sister to young Mercy.”

Henry watched the man disappear. Someday he wanted a wife and children, if God saw fit. And from what he had seen of the Butler family this day, they were a good Christian family, although he didn't know how they could reconcile their faith with their rebellion against the king.

Dozing off to sleep, he dreamed of his regiment and the constant drilling. Always the soldiers talked of breaking the will of the colonists who refused to obey King George. What did these people hope to gain by their rebellion? No finer life existed for those who fell under the jurisdiction of the crown. A twinge of something long-since past pierced his heart. He remembered the oppression of family and friends in Ireland, the starvation, and the endless work. He had elected to leave his homeland and make life better for himself. What price was freedom? For the first time, Henry wanted to know how these people viewed their circumstances—not that he intended to change his mind. After all, he'd made an allegiance to England, and he was an honorable man, willing to do whatever necessary in the service of His Majesty, noting Elijah had declared earlier the same about himself. Nothing more.

Much later, Henry awoke to Elijah's shouts of, “It's a boy!” Thrilled voices filled the house. “He is a fine-looking lad,” Elijah continued. “Praise God.”

“Oh Papa, this is wonderful,” Delight said.

“What is his name?” a much younger daughter questioned. “Will it be the same as yours?”

“Of course, my sweet Mercy. Elijah Paxton Butler.”

The man's words tugged at Henry. How often had he heard the same gratitude to God expressed by his own father? These people were enemies, but they all prayed to the same God. The thought confused Henry to the point he could not go back to sleep.
If we all pray to the heavenly Father for protection and victory over our enemies, how does God decide who is the victor? Who is really on the side of God?

Delight's eyes burned from lack of sleep. She stirred eggs into the huge skillet laden with bacon grease. Biscuits baked, and the aroma teased her senses. How good they would taste with freshly churned butter and a generous helping of the berries Mercy and Hope had picked the day before.

For two nights, she had stayed up much later than her usual custom and talked with Papa, Charity, and Remember. Papa loved reminiscing about the birth of each of his children. But when the clock struck twelve, she and her sisters went to bed. Papa spent the remaining hours seated by Mama's bedside, holding little Elijah just as he'd done with her sisters.

The baby's birth had caused so much excitement in the Butler household. New friends in Chesterfield and Papa's brother, Matthew, and his wife, Anne, visited and brought their hearty congratulations along with a wooden rattle carved to look like a fish. Another neighbor brought a pudding cap for the baby, although it would be months before he would be toddling about and need the cap to cushion his fall.

The last time Delight had checked this morning, Papa had fallen asleep and Mama held the baby. What a true blessing for Mama and Papa. They loved their daughters and often exhibited a fierce protectiveness toward them, but now they had a dear son.

A smile spread across her face and a few tears of joy sprinkled over her cheeks at the thought of little Elijah. She knew God had blessed them despite the orders to house the redcoat.

Delight picked up the mug of chamomile tea she had brewed for Mama. The herbal liquid would help her get much-needed sleep. The other women in this family could take care of everything while Mama recuperated from childbirth. They would all be fussing over who would hold Elijah.

Much to her distaste, she needed to check on Henry. Secretly, she'd named him the prisoner. His bandages should be changed again, and surely the man was hungry. Papa said it would take several weeks before his leg healed. Not a day too soon.

Midmorning, she heard the pleasant sounds of Mercy's and Hope's laughter. They were nowhere to be seen, but she soon realized they were in the hall with the soldier. Angry that the girls had sought company with Henry, she stomped into the passageway, prepared to save her sisters from the enemy. Instead she found Mercy and Hope seated on the floor with their cornhusk dolls, conducting a tea party with the wounded soldier.

W
hat are you doing?” Delight stared in disbelief at her younger sisters' wide-eyed innocence.

Henry lifted a walnut hull teacup to his lips. “We are enjoying a spot of tea.” His thick Irish tongue sounded humorous with his English statement, but she was in no mood to be jovial.

“Yes, sister. We are also having our tea with sugar and cream and bread with apple butter.” Hope lifted a piece of broken pottery that no doubt served as a saucer.

Mercy swiped a sprinkling of dirt from her indigo skirt and stared up with the gathered portion of her mobcap framing her face. “We're not doing anything wrong, Delight. Please do not be angry. Mr. O'Neill offered to play with us.”

Delight crossed her arms over her chest and scrutinized the three before her. “You volunteered to play with two children?”

He offered a faint smile—the first she had seen or believed she would ever see cast in her direction by him. “Aye, the wee lasses were looking for a playmate. Since I am engaged in idle time and enduring the pain in my leg, well, I offered.”

Since when do soldiers play with children?
Suspicion inched through her thoughts. This must surely be a new ploy by the British, and Delight knew a devious act when she heard one.

“I'm the oldest of twelve back in Ireland,” he continued. “Sometimes I miss me brothers and sisters.” A rather sad look swept over his pale face as he peered at her through deep blue eyes.

Henry obviously desired sympathy, but he would not get it from her. Let him waste away his hours with children's games. She didn't care.

“Very well.” She felt quite victorious in seeing through his words. She turned to leave, but another notion crossed her mind. “If you are going to have a tea party, why not the Boston Tea Party? Mercy and Hope could pretend to be the Sons of Liberty.”

Henry dug his fingers into his palms. Oh, how Delight Butler vexed him. She twisted her remarks like a knife in a man's flesh. Why didn't she leave the affairs of war to men and the business of play to children? He found it no surprise that these rebels plagued the king. Anger brewed inside him and threatened to bubble over. If not for Mercy and Hope playing nearby and the threatening words of their father, he would lash out at this impertinent young woman without delay.

Instead he simply smiled. “Thank ye for the suggestion, Miss Butler, but if we conducted that party, we'd have to dress as Indians and steal away in the dead of night like criminals.”

Delight's face reddened, and her large brown eyes appeared to ignite like a raging fire. Clenching her fists, she swallowed hard, no doubt to maintain her composure in the presence of her younger sisters.

“Girls, I could use your help in preparing the noon meal,” Delight said with tenderness in her words.

How could one woman be so disagreeable in one breath and reflect an angel's smile in the next?

“Must we?” Hope offered a most dismal look.

“I believe so, but this afternoon you can visit Mama and the baby for a little while.”

Mercy brightened and clapped her hands. “Dare we hold him?”

“It is quite possible.” Delight bent to gather up a walnut cup and pottery saucer. “I believe there will be time today for us to have a tea party beneath the shade of the maple tree outside, with real milk and a biscuit.”

“Will Mr. O'Neill join us?” Hope said. “He is quite lonely, you know.”

Delight tilted her head and touched the cheek of the youngest sister. “Oh my sweet Hope, he cannot come outside until his leg heals.”

“How sad.” Hope rose to her feet and curtsied to him. “Perhaps another time. Thank you, Mr. O'Neill, for playing with us.”

“Yes, indeed,” Mercy echoed as she offered an identical curtsy.

“Thank ye for joining me, lasses. I appreciate your conversation.” Henry did enjoy the little girls. Their delightful chatter eased the frustrations of war, the steady throbbing in his leg, and the memories of Adam's last moments.

Once alone in the hall, exhaustion and weakness embittered him. He clearly wanted to rejoin his regiment soon and put this captivity behind him. For a few hours he had indulged in children's play when in fact this was the home of the enemy.

A shadow grasped his attention. Delight stood in the doorway, carrying a huge knife and towering over him like an executioner.