Savage Deception (Liberty's Ladies) (7 page)

Kingsley blamed her for losing the child, for making him look less than a man in front of his friends, who all had children. Every time he came to her bed his abuse grew, until the night arrived when he nearly killed her. In her mind’s eye, Diana could still picture the riding crop as he raised it above her to strike her sensitive flesh. She still felt the cold wooden floor beneath her knees as she fell, trying to flee from him.

The crop kept rising and falling, never ceasing its relentless assault. She thought Kingsley was going to kill her that night, and he would have if not for Harlan. Her father-in-law was suddenly there, and for a man who was past sixty and hadn’t been in the best of health he was surprisingly strong. He grabbed Kingsley by the scruff of the neck and threw him across the room. Kingsley landed on his backside, apparently dazed by Harlan’s surprise attack. Diana found herself in Hattie’s arms, her body bleeding and aching unbearably, but she’d never forget the utter disgust she’d seen on Harlan’s face when he told Kingsley to leave Briarhaven and never return — that as far as he was concerned, he had no son.

Kingsley had whined he’d never touch her again, that he had no place to go, and it was at this moment that Diana realized who was the true master of Briarhaven. The next day Kingsley sneaked away. With him went all of her jewelry, even some of the pieces that had belonged to her mother. However much Diana missed her mother’s garnet ring and earbobs, she knew that anything was worth not having to endure Kingsley another moment.

It wasn’t until word came of Kingsley’s heroic death in defense of his country that Diana and Harlan learned he’d joined the militia. “At least he wasn’t a coward at the end,” Harlan had said upon hearing the news. Days later Harlan suffered chest pains and was put to bed by the physician, who privately told Diana that Harlan’s heart was weak and he needed constant attention. Diana had decided to care for him, but Naomi appeared one afternoon and declared that she’d tend to Harlan. She explained that she owed him for taking care of her and her son all of those years ago, but Diana thought Naomi loved Harlan and that Harlan loved her. And so life slipped into a predictable and comfortable pattern until the British commandeered Briarhaven, forcing Diana to open her ears for any scrap of useful information about their activities in the area.

“Diana Sheridan, dutiful patriot,” she mumbled under her breath and quelled the urge to laugh. She began washing the dishes. When she had finished and was drying her hands on her apron she turned to find Samuel Farnsworth staring worriedly at her. In his hand he held what looked to be a letter.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said, “but I just received a missive from General Lord Rawdon in Charlestown about your sister, Mrs. Richmond. It seems she has been taken quite ill and wishes to see you.”

“Anne is sick? Does Lord Rawdon say what is wrong with her?” Diana was so upset at this news that she barely realized how odd it must seem to Farnsworth that word of Anne’s illness would come from Lord Rawdon himself.

Samuel shook his head and tapped the paper with a well-manicured fingernail. “Lord Rawdon requests that you leave as soon as possible under my protection. I admit I find this most puzzling, because your sister is married to David Richmond, a lieutenant in the South Carolina militia. And if I’m not mistaken, Rawdon pardoned him and his men when we captured Charlestown, under condition that they not join a rebel band and fight against us.”

Goodness but Farnsworth had a good memory for names, Diana decided, a bit on her guard. If Farnsworth knew that, then surely Lord Rawdon, who was in charge of the British forces in Charlestown, must remember David’s name, too. What was happening here? Anne must be dreadfully ill for Lord Rawdon to send a message to the relative of a known rebel.

“You’re quite correct,” Diana admitted. “David was pardoned. Does the fact that my sister’s husband fought for the opposite side bother you?”

“No, not if he has remained loyal to us. But, you see, I wonder sometimes if you have a guardian angel in the guise of Lord Rawdon.”

Diana lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t understand what you mean. I’ve never met Lord Rawdon.”

A half smile of amusement and bafflement turned up the corners of his mouth. “In that case, my dear, then I can’t explain why Briarhaven was chosen as my headquarters. Originally, the plantation five miles down the Santee was to be my choice, but at the last moment Rawdon commanded that we quarter here. In fact, when I protested he was most adamant about the whole thing. Very strange, but be that as it may, I suggest you pack what you’ll need for our trip. We’ll leave at dawn if that’s all right with you.”

“Yes, that’s fine. Thank you, Captain.”

He took her hand in his and kissed it. She couldn’t help but flinch at the intimate contact of his lips against her skin. Instantly she pulled away. He stiffened, and she knew that she had offended him. “I had hoped that by now you’d welcome my attentions, Diana, but I sense that you don’t return my feelings. Am I wrong to hope for something more than your friendship?”

Licking her lips, she observed him with all seriousness. “Captain, you are a kind man and a most handsome one, but I suggest you’d do well to look elsewhere for warmth. I have none left to give.”

“I understand that you’ve been a widow for a short while, but I know you’re not cold. Your feelings are buried under layers of ice. If only you’d give me the chance to prove how much I care for you.” He started to pull her into his arms, but Diana pushed him away and was more than a bit surprised when he didn’t protest.

“Stop it, sir. I have nothing left to give!” She meant that with her whole heart. Kingsley had robbed her of her jewels and her feelings. “I dislike being pawed.”

He considered her for a long moment. “I think it will take the right man to change your mind about that, and I’d like to be that man. However, I’m under orders not to touch you.”

“I … don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, but that was part of my orders upon arriving here. Rawdon clearly expressed to me that you and your father-in-law, your slaves, and your household goods, were not to be molested or disturbed in any way. Believe me when I tell you that if not for that order, I’d have found a way to bring you to my bed.” Farnsworth grinned at her. “Now tell me that you have no guardian angel.” Bowing deeply, he left the kitchen, leaving her a bit shaken by his actions and his words. A guardian angel. What a ridiculous notion.

Still, it very nearly explained why Briarhaven and not Sinclair House, which was a more strategic location because of its nearness to the Atlantic, had been singled out as a headquarters. And Rawdon’s letter about Anne — well, that was more than mind-boggling. Fear clutched at Diana to think that her sister had to be so desperately ill that perhaps David couldn’t care for Anne and their three children. But even so, would Rawdon send for her out of the goodness of his heart, simply to please a known rebel like David Richmond?

None of it made any sense. Especially not Farnsworth’s remarks that she and everyone at Briarhaven not be molested. Who would have dared to give such absurd orders? Before now the British had never cared who they hurt or what houses they looted and burned. Farnsworth must be mistaken, she decided, yet she welcomed such a mistake.

However, she couldn’t stand here all day mulling over all of this, not when Anne needed her. She had to pack, but first she must tell Harlan of her plans and then wait until after midnight. Then the house would be quiet and the officers asleep. She’d be able to sneak into the underground tunnel and tell her informant about the supply wagon that was due to come through on the morrow. She smiled to realize how glad the Swamp Fox would be of such news.

~ ~ ~

“All clear, Miss Diana. I don’t see a soul.” Hattie turned from the doorway and grasped Diana’s hand. “You be careful, child.”

“I will,” Diana promised and smiled encouragingly at Hattie as she’d done on many previous occasions. She left her room, clad in a black shirt and breeches that had belonged to Kingsley, Hattie having cut down the garments to fit Diana’s petite frame. To protect herself from the bitter chill, Diana had thrown on an ebony colored cloak and hidden her dark tresses beneath the hood.

Nearing Farnsworth’s room, Diana stopped and listened, but hearing only the man’s snores she made her way to the back stairway. She took a lighted candle from the wall sconce and continued down the stairs, but it seemed that each of her booted footfalls on the wooden steps matched the beating of her heart. Every familiar creak sounded a thousand times louder to her own ears, and at any minute she expected Farnsworth or one of his men to appear behind her and drag her back. But no hands reached out to clutch her. It was only when she’d tugged open the door that led to the wine cellar and had firmly closed it behind her that she allowed herself the satisfaction of drawing breath again.

Without dallying, Diana hurried past the wooden shelves that had once held bottles of fine wines and liquors. She halted when she reached the last shelf. A gray stone wall, decorated with a grapelike motif, blocked her way, but not for long. Pressing her palm into the center of one of the clusters, she watched as a section of the wall gave way and opened for her. Diana squeezed into the opening, and once on the opposite side, she pulled the panel into place.

The candle flickered and sputtered as Diana rushed through the dark, damp tunnel. The tunnel had been built over one hundred years earlier by a Sheridan ancestor who had been a pirate. Harlan, who had shown her the tunnel shortly after she had married Kingsley, had told her that his great uncle had been quite a notorious character, marrying well and pretending to be quite proper in all respects. But love for the sea and zeal for plunder were in his blood, and he’d built the tunnel as a means of transporting his booty into the house. Harlan had laughed when he recounted how, at a lavish ball given by this same uncle at Briarhaven, the scoundrel had plied British authorities who were eager to prove he was a pirate with drink and food, all the while delighting in the fact that beneath the floor boards upon which they danced was the contraband that would have proven their case.

At the moment Diana understood the heady sense of elation that Sheridan ancestor must have felt. She’d been frightened when Clay Sinclair, a neighbor and good friend, had stealthily approached her about spying on Farnsworth. Now, however, the lurking sense of danger stained her usually pale cheeks with a becoming rosy flush, and she realized that she truly enjoyed these nights when she slipped into the tunnel, more than eager for the adventure. Who would believe that the prim and proper widow Sheridan, a woman who pretended to be a Tory, was in reality a spy for the American cause? Diana barely believed it herself.

She reached the end of the tunnel. Setting the candle in a holder on the wall, she turned a large handle on the stone door in front of her. The creaking sound seemed quite loud in the quiet night, but Diana didn’t worry. She knew none of the soldiers would be so far from the house on such a cold night as this, and especially that no one would venture onto this part of the property.

Leaving ajar the stone door on the largest tomb in the Sheridan family cemetery and stepping outside, Diana took a deep breath, only to have it hang like a specter in the clear, frosty night air. Above her, a full moon illumined the white granite headstones. The ornate sepulcher stood on a marble slab, but it wasn’t a tomb at all, having always been the entranceway into the tunnel. Since Kingsley was gone, no one save Harlan, Hattie, and herself knew that it didn’t house the remains of deceased Sheridans.

The smell of pine from the nearby swamp wafted on the air, mingling with other wildwood fragrances, as Diana rushed about five hundred feet into the swamp. She felt grateful that the moon was full and lighted her way, confident that the soldiers weren’t nearby. Only seconds after she’d stopped beneath a large pine tree Clay Sinclair appeared like a sudden mist.

“I’ve been watching for you,” he whispered, a shy grin on his face. “I didn’t know if you’d have anything to tell me, what with Christmas only a few days away.”

“There’s a supply wagon coming through tomorrow,” Diana related and told him what had happened since she’d last seen him. “I won’t be able to come for a while, Clay,” she managed to apologize, feeling like a traitor. “Anne is ill. Captain Farnsworth is escorting me to Charlestown in the morning.”

Clay nodded his understanding, a shaggy strand of blond hair hung across his forehead. “I’ll tell Colonel Marion to give orders not to interfere with the escort party. He’ll be glad to learn about the supply wagon. We’re running pretty low on things now.”

Diana knew it must be quite hard for Marion and his men as they fought and lived in the wilderness. On such nights as this when the cold winds blew in from the Atlantic, she slept in a bed with a roof over her head while Clay and other patriots were lucky to have a warm blanket for protection from the elements. She felt guilty and it must have shown, for Clay grinned again at her.

“My mother and sisters loved the gowns you gave them after our house burned. They’re real grateful.”

“I bet if they knew the clothes were mine, Clay, they’d burn them rather than wear anything a loyalist owned.”

“Now, don’t be so touchy. I couldn’t tell them where the gowns came from. I know you’re a patriot and so does Colonel Marion. After this war is won, everyone else will know it, too. Sometimes people just have to do things they don’t like to get the job done. Just be grateful that Briarhaven is still intact.”