Rebellious Heart (23 page)

She tried to push aside the sudden longing for Ben and focus instead on generating an affectionate reaction to her cousin. Surely she could create attraction if she worked hard enough. Surely someday she could learn to be content with the way of things for women like her.

As if sensing her lack of excitement, Elbridge retrieved a folded sheet of paper from his waistcoat. “I’ve come from Mount Wollaston and have a letter for you from your grandmother.”

“A letter from Grandmother Eve?”

Elbridge held out the letter.

As her fingers closed around it, he didn’t let go right away. Instead he forced her to lift her gaze to his. Something sharp in his eyes sent a shiver of unease through her.

She tugged the letter from his grip. “Thank you, Elbridge.”

If she didn’t know better, she’d almost guess he was silently rebuking her. But rebuking her for what?

She quickly broke the seal and unfolded the letter. The note was short and to the point, and her throat constricted with each word she read.

Ben’s father was dead, had passed away earlier in the week. Ben was in a state of grief that worried Grandmother Eve. Grandmother felt certain a visit from Susanna would cheer him and provide the dose of medicine he needed to revive from his state of melancholy. She was hosting a dinner that very evening with the hope of offering condolences, and she wanted Susanna to attend.

When Susanna finished the letter, she refolded it slowly. Apparently Grandmother Eve hadn’t yet heard about her rejection of Ben’s offer of courtship. If she had, she would know Susanna was the last person Ben desired for comfort.

Nevertheless, Sergeant Frazel’s warning clanged in her mind, growing louder with each passing moment. She needed to travel with all haste to Braintree to alert Grandmother Eve and Ben about Lieutenant Wolfe’s plans. The dinner would provide the perfect opportunity to discuss what else they might do to locate a new hiding spot for Dotty.

She appealed to her father, who was standing with his palms stretched toward the blazing fire. “Father, Grandmother Eve has invited me to dinner this evening. Perhaps Elbridge would be agreeable to escorting me.”

She turned to Elbridge and clasped his hands. “You’ll take
me, won’t you, cousin?” She peered up at him with what she hoped was her most beguiling look.

“He’s only just ridden from Mount Wollaston,” Mother said, but her protest lacked conviction. “’Tisn’t fair of you to ask him to ride again so soon.”

“I don’t mind.” Elbridge enfolded Susanna’s hands within his. “I want to make Susanna happy in whatever way I can.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you, Elbridge.”

“Anything for you.”

“You’re very kind, Elbridge,” her father said. “I’m sure it would lift Susanna’s spirits to spend time with her cheerful grandmother.”

Of course, her father wouldn’t mention Susanna’s melancholy ever since Ben’s disastrous visit, nor the fact that she’d had so little time to focus on reading or eavesdropping on William’s lessons. It wasn’t within Father’s nature to focus on the negative. But the gentleness in his eyes said he had noticed her languishing and wanted to give her a small gift in the visit to Grandmother’s.

“If Elbridge is agreeable,” Father continued, “then how can we say no?”

Mother gave a brief nod.

“Thank you, Father,” Susanna said quickly before Mother could change her mind. “And thank you, Elbridge. I shall go pack.” She spun away from him and made her way from the room before anyone could contradict her.

As she strode through the hallway, her pulse began to thump with an urgency that left her breathless.

She stopped at the door that opened to the closet under the stairs. She laid a trembling hand against the plank and shivered at the remembrance of her time alone in the closet
with Ben . . . his hand caressing her neck, his breath against her lips, the tightness of his body so near hers.

She couldn’t deny how much she’d wanted to be with him then.

And she still did. She would at the very least pen him a letter and finally ask for his forgiveness.

No matter how dangerous he was, she couldn’t cut him out of her life. As much as she’d told herself she needed to stay away from him, she didn’t want to. Not now.

Perhaps never.

The wind lashed Ben’s cloak, but he didn’t care. He kneeled next to the wall bordering the east pasture and restacked the fieldstone where the old ones had crumbled and fallen away.

His fingers had no feeling. Neither did his toes. But he fumbled with the stones and rubble anyway. At least now his limbs resembled his frozen, unfeeling heart.

Flakes of snow drifted around him, forming a layer over everything, but it wasn’t enough to brighten the lifeless gray stones or the wilted grass. The snow couldn’t bring life to anything—not to the barren field, the leafless trees edging the creek, or the farmhouse in the distance.

Ben couldn’t imagine the farm ever being beautiful and alive again. Not without his father.

He brushed a sleeve across his frozen cheek to wipe away a tear. But his face was dry, his tears gone. He’d already shed enough over the past several days since he’d buried his father, and he had nothing left inside of him.

Nothing but a deep, wretched ache.

Nevertheless, farm life had to continue. For now the farm
belonged to him. His father had left him the house as well as forty acres.

Ben sat back on his heels and looked around at the property. He’d received ten acres of adjoining land and then thirty of orchard, pasture, woodland, and swamp.

He was finally a freeholder. He owned land free and clear. Now he could vote or act as a representative in the legislature. And he would begin to earn the respect of many who looked down upon poor, landless men.

Why did it take land and money to earn respect anyway? Why couldn’t men respect him for his merits and his accomplishments rather than his status?

His father’s words wafted in the wind.
“There is more than one way to earn the approval of your peers. And often the best way is through strength of character.”

Ben bowed his head. The wind whipped at him again, sending scourging lashes down the back of his cloak.

Maybe he needed to earn the respect of his peers the way his father had, by improving his character rather than status. His father had been a good man, the most honest man he’d ever known.

If not for his father’s persuasion, he might not have gone on with his schooling, especially when the teacher at the local Braintree school had paid him no attention, but had in fact drained the love of learning out of him with his cruelty.

He’d come home from school one day and declared to his father that he didn’t want to go back, that he only wished to be a farmer. But his father had persuaded him to continue with his education and had even enrolled him in a private school where the new schoolmaster treated him kindly and spurred him to study in earnest.

He owed much to his father. . . .

The distant plod of hooves brought Ben’s head up, and he exhaled a weary sigh. He peered down the country road to the advancing forms of two people on horseback.

If they were coming to visit him, he knew he ought to shout out a warning for them to steer far clear of his humble Braintree home. The influenza had struck his mother as well. In fact, she’d been too ill to leave her bed when they’d buried his father.

With a grunt, Ben pushed himself to his feet, unbending his frozen limbs.

Fortunately, under the gentle hands of his brother’s wife, his mother was recovering. Even so, the illness was spreading. Earlier in the day he’d heard that several other older men of the community had succumbed to death.

This was not the time for anyone to be out visiting.

As the riders drew nearer, and at the sight of a young woman wearing elegant riding apparel, his pulse lurched. The confident set to the woman’s shoulders, the proud tilt of her chin, the wisps of raven hair that had escaped from the hood of her cloak—they belonged to only one woman. Susanna.

His first inclination was to drop his chisel, hop over the stone wall, and run to her. Everything within him wanted to hoist her from her mare, drag her into his arms, and bury his face into her neck. He needed to feel her arms about him, her soothing breath on his cheek, and the comforting thump of her heartbeat against his.

But then his attention shifted to the rider next to her and the door of his heart slammed shut. A blast of wind socked him again, and he sucked in bitter air that flowed into his lungs and stung him.

Elbridge lifted his chin, giving Ben a clear view of his countenance and the pride etched there. His smile sent the message
I told you so
, indicated he was indeed the favored one, and
that everything he’d said at the Green Dragon in Boston was true. Reverend and Mrs. Smith had placed their favor upon him as Susanna’s suitor.

Disappointment bit at Ben.

He’d thought Susanna more intelligent than to settle for someone like Elbridge. She was much too passionate about life. She’d never be content with a man as narrow-minded and ignorant as Elbridge.

Susanna reined her horse on the other side of the wall next to Ben. Her dark eyes radiated such sorrow and compassion, his throat grew tight. Once again he had the urge to sweep her down and into his arms. A deep part of him—a part he couldn’t begin to understand—needed her more than anything or anyone.

“Ben,” she said softly.

Just the sound of his name on her lips pushed the ache higher into his throat.

The gentle lines of her face were drawn together. “Please accept my heartfelt sympathy on the loss of your father.” She held out a gloved hand to him.

He wanted to put his hand into hers and let her console him, but Elbridge nudged his horse between them, giving her mare little choice but to step back.

Her horse nickered in protest, and Susanna rubbed her hand against the beast’s mane. “How are you faring?” Her eyes were full of questions and confusion—the same confusion that had swirled in her eyes the last time he’d seen her, when she’d refused his offer of courtship and shut him out of her life.

All the pain, the heartache, and the anger of her rejection came pounding back into his chest.

“Why are you here, Susanna?” he asked.

She drew back as if his words had slapped her. “I came to offer my condolences,” she said hesitantly. “And my comfort.”

“I don’t need your comfort.” He was being hard on her, but at that instant, with Elbridge standing between them, Ben couldn’t seem to stop his anger from spilling out. “After our last parting, what would make you believe I’d want your comfort?”

“I only wished to express how sorry I am—”

“Obviously. Now that you know I inherited my father’s farm and have become a freeholder.”

“That’s not true. That has nothing to do with my visit whatsoever.”

“Admit it. It has everything to do with your visit. You spurned me when I had nothing. But now that I own property, you’re no longer ashamed to associate with me.”

“The thought hadn’t crossed my mind in the least. Surely you can’t think me so callous.”

He shrugged.

A smile tugged at Elbridge’s lips. He was likely getting the kind of show he’d anticipated.

Ben knew he should refrain from any more conversation, but the hurts pushed for release. “You’re more like your mother than you want to admit.”

Susanna’s shoulders slumped and the life that had been in her eyes drained away. “I can see you’re still very hurt. And I don’t blame you. Even so, I was hoping—”

“Hoping I’d forgotten what happened? Hoping my grief would make me fall into your arms and cry on your shoulder? Go back home, Susanna. And stay there.”

“Very well.” She lifted her chin.

“Come. Let’s go,” Elbridge said, urging his horse forward. “I told you Ross wasn’t worth the time.”

Susanna gathered her reins. But then she hesitated. “I was
planning to extend an invitation for you to join us at Mount Wollaston tonight for dinner.”

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t invite me,” Ben replied. “I wouldn’t have come.”

The wind whipped at her already rosy cheeks. It wrenched the hood of her cloak and unleashed more of her hair. She shuddered, obviously chilled in spite of her heavy layers.

The day was too cold for her to be riding about the countryside. Why had Elbridge allowed it? If he cared at all about Susanna, he should have insisted she stay home. Especially with the threat of an influenza epidemic.

“This is no time to be having parties.” Ben couldn’t prevent anxiety from creeping into his tone. “You were a fool to come into Braintree at all, with the influenza striking so many. Three more died today.”

She reached into her cloak, glanced at Elbridge’s retreating back, then pulled out a letter. She thrust it toward him. “For you.”

The wind flapped the folded sheet, attempting to tear it away from him. But he grabbed it before either Elbridge or the wind could sever his last connection with Susanna.

Because the truth was, in spite of all his hurt, he wasn’t ready to let go of her.

He tucked the letter into his cloak near his heart.

As he watched her spur her mare after Elbridge, he pressed his hand against the sheet through the scratchy wool. And he couldn’t keep the despair from rampaging through him with renewed force.

She’d come to him.

Why in heaven’s name had he sent her away?

Susanna stared out the parlor window into the fading light, which was reflected in the snow that was beginning to fall in earnest. She tried to ignore the chatter of the few friends Grandmother Eve had invited for the evening.

Nothing ever stopped her grandmother from socializing, not even illness. Besides, they had need for the commotion of the guests if they hoped to provide a cover for Dotty’s escape.

Susanna grazed her fingers along the cold windowpane, unable to shake the gloom that had settled over her since her visit with Ben. Elbridge had protested riding past Ben’s farm, but she’d convinced him it wasn’t too far off the route to Mount Wollaston.

Perhaps she should have heeded Elbridge. What had she expected? That Ben would throw open his arms and welcome her back into his world?

She certainly hadn’t imagined he’d hate her and order her to leave.

The tinkle of laughter behind her mocked her and only made her want to sneak out of the room and secrete herself in her grandfather’s study. Instead she gripped the windowsill and held herself back, knowing she had to play the part expected of her, at least through dinner.

Then after everyone had gone, and the hoofprints and sleigh ruts crisscrossed the snowy roads, she would make her escape with Dotty. If Lieutenant Wolfe tried to track them, he’d have a difficult time following them amidst all the other tracks.

When she’d arrived, she pulled Grandmother Eve aside and shared the warning Sergeant Frazel had brought that morning. She’d also had to explain all that had occurred recently with Ben, the alienation between them and his cold dismissal that afternoon.

Grandmother had insisted Ben didn’t mean anything he’d said and that he would still be willing to help them. But after a lengthy discussion, and upon Susanna’s persistence, they’d finally agreed the best course of action was to move Dotty to Parson Wibird’s home. Grandmother was confident the parson would do his best to shelter the young woman, at least until it was safe to bring her back to Mount Wollaston.

“Come, Susanna,” Elbridge called from near the fireplace. “You must stop brooding and join us. We were all remarking on the delicious scents coming from the dining room.”

The aroma of the dinner the servants were laying out had indeed penetrated the parlor—the tartness of plum pudding, the juiciness of roasted goose, the sweetness of sugar-glazed carrots.

She couldn’t fault Elbridge for his attentiveness. He was only playing the role of a suitor. And he had, after all, been willing to accompany her to Braintree, even though it meant another long ride in the wintry weather.

Yet no matter his virtues, she was well past exhausted at being in his presence, at having his undying attention all day long.

As much as she disliked the thought of having to contradict her mother’s choice for her, she didn’t know how she could possibly endure being courted by Elbridge. He was a decent man, but she couldn’t marry someone whose presence wearied her.

Perhaps this was one of those times when she must stay strong and challenge the old way of doing things, shedding the need to acquiesce like a gown she’d long outgrown.

She could begin by convincing Elbridge she wasn’t the right woman for him, that with his wealth and status he would surely find someone more suitable.

She had started to turn from the window when a distant glimmer caught her attention. She pressed her face closer to the frosty glass and peered through the blowing snow and growing dusk. At the bottom of the winding road that led up the hill, a light flickered.

Were more guests arriving?

A flare of a second light shone long enough to reveal a spot of red before the darkness and the falling snow swallowed the rider.

Her heartbeat collided with her ribs.

A spot of red? That could only mean one thing. Lieutenant Wolfe was paying Mount Wollaston a visit that very night.