Shattered Moments (30 page)

“So, what now?” Genevieve asked, in an effort to understand what he was planning.  “What will you do?”

“That largely depends on ye,” he said, cupping her cheek gently and looking into her eyes.

“In what way?”

“Ye said before that ye’d wait for me to be a free man; well, I choose to be a free man now.  If ye can forgive me for what I’ve done, and still want a life with me, then we will have one.”

“How, Cameron?  No one knows about
you and Deverell, but you’ve run away and broken your contract.  You’re a fugitive, and will be severely punished if they ever find you.  How can you speak of a future when we have none should you be caught?”

“I
wilna be caught.  I’ll make my way back home and reclaim my life.  Give me a year, Jenny.  I will send for ye; I promise.  Will ye wait for me?”

Genevieve just gaped at him.  How on earth did he expect to get back home?  Jamestown was the only port in the colony, and there was no conceivable way that Cameron could get on a ship bound for England without anyone stopping him.  Even if he had money to pay for his passage, he was a fugitive, and they’d have him before the
authorities before the ship so much as left port.  She could see from his face that he’d considered all that because he was smiling at her tenderly, giving her time to think it all through.

“I have a plan,” he said, “and it just might work.”

“The risk is too great,” she replied as she rested her head against his shoulder.  It was suicide.

“I
ken, lass, but the risk of me staying here for another six years is nae less.  I want a life with ye, and I’m willing to take the chance.”  Genevieve just nodded.  It was too late to change his mind.  He’d run away, and sealed his fate.  There was no way back.

“Will ye wait for me, Jenny?” he asked again.

“What would I tell my uncle?  This is the only family I’ve ever had, and I don’t want to lose them, but I don’t want to lose you either.  You’re giving me an impossible choice.”  Cameron leaned in and kissed Genevieve softly, his lips just brushing hers, his hand warm on her cheek. 

“Ye’ll miss me when I’m gone, and ye’ll be willing to give up everything to come to me,” he said with a wicked smile.  “I
ken ye will.  But in the meantime, go home and pretend ye’ve never seen me.  Ye’ll know what to do when the time comes, and it will come sooner than ye think.  I promise ye that, Miss Genevieve Whitfield.”

“If you are so certain that you’ll come back, then marry me,” she said.  “I’ve heard of
handfasting.  We can do it right here, right now.”  Her gaze held his as she waited for him to answer.

“Jenny, I’d like nothing better than to wed ye, but what if I die and ye
didna know?  Ye wilna be able to remarry and get on with yer life, and I wouldna want that for ye.”  Genevieve put a hand to his stubbled face and looked into his eyes. 

“I don’t want to marry anyone else – ever.  If anything happens to you, then I will be your widow and cherish the memory of you till the end of my days.”

Cameron just nodded.  His eyes were full of love as he reached for her hand.  “Let’s do it then.  I’m no’ sure how to do it proper-like, but I suppose it’s the intent that matters.”  Cameron took both her hands in his and spoke the words in a solemn voice, “I, Cameron Brody, take ye Genevieve Whitfield to be my wedded wife.  I promise to love ye, protect ye, and be true to ye for the rest of my life.”  He smiled at her to indicate that it was her turn.

“I, Genevieve Whitfield
, take you, Cameron Brody, to be my wedded husband.  I promise to love, honor, obey, and be true to you for the rest of my days.”  Cameron drew her close and kissed her sweetly, sealing their pact.  Genevieve kissed him back, suddenly feeling a spark of hope.  Maybe Cameron was right, and it would all come to pass.  She would go to Scotland, and they would start their life together; she’d wait as long as it took.

“I’ll wait for you, Cam,” she said happily.  “You just stay safe and find your way home.
  Here, take this,” she said as she pulled a ring off her finger.  It had been her mother’s.  Uncle Alec gave it to her when she arrived in Virginia, and she’d treasured it as she’d never treasured anything before, knowing that this very ring was worn by her mother, until the day she ran away to join a convent and left the ring on her dressing table atop the letter to her brothers.  She wouldn’t need it where she was going. 

Uncle Alec left all her mother’s possessions behind when
he and Aunt Valerie left England, but he’d taken the ring as a keepsake, something to remind him of his sister.  The large, oval emerald was ensconced in a heavy gold setting, its surface almost dull until a ray of light hit it just right, and then the ring blazed with a green fire that drew the eye to its mysterious depths.

“Cameron, please take it.  This ring is worth quite a lot, and it might save your life.  It can pay for passage to England.”  She pressed the ring into Cameron’s hand, but he just shook his
head.

“I
canna take ye ring, lass.  It’s the only thing ye have left of yer mam, and I willna see ye parted from it.  Ye keep it.  I’ll find my own way home.”

“I want you to take it.  You can give it back to me if you have no use for it, but I want to know that you have something to fall back on should you need to.  Please, Cameron.”

“All right, I’ll take it, but I will return it to ye as soon as I see ye again.  In the meantime, it will remind me of yer bonny green eyes,” he replied softly, pulling her closer and sliding his warm hand up her leg beneath her skirt.  “Now, come here, lassie.”

October
1779

Williamsburg, Virginia

The
King’s Arms Inn
wasn’t overly elegant, but it was cozy and clean, and the dining area downstairs was full of respectable-looking men; men with money, and not just some laborers coming in for a pint of ale or a quick meal.  It was a fine place to start, should she choose to stay on in Williamsburg and put her plan into action.  Situated on the Duke of Gloucester Street, it was right in the heart of Williamsburg, and at the center of the social and political seat of the town; directly between Parliament and the campus of the William and Mary College where countless young men strove for academic excellence, and suffered silently at night for lack of female companionship so lacking in such a place of learning.

Diana rose from the bath and reached for a towel as rivulets of warm water ran down her stomach and legs.  She hadn’t had a proper bath in ages, not one where she could luxuriate for a while rather than just wash the grime off as quickly as possible and return to the never-ending chores set forth by General Hannah Mallory, as Diana thought of Sam’s mother.  What a pleasure it was to be alone at last with a bed all to oneself and an actual hip bath full of steaming hot water.  There were no annoying questions from the girls, or constant demands from Nat to be fed, changed, or cuddled to sleep.

Diana thoroughly dried herself and gazed at her reflection in the small oval mirror hanging above the washstand.  She’d been on a downward spiral for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like to be pleased with one’s reflection in the looking glass.  Her hair was lustrous, her cheeks in bloom, and her eyes sparkling with merriment.  It was nice to feel like herself once again.  All in all, things had turned out for the best, despite the setbacks that had plagued her for the past year.  She’d known as soon as Finn returned from wherever he’d been that her days were numbered.  He’d seen Jonah, so it stood to reason that he knew the truth and would reveal it sooner or later.  Jonah was a bit of a dolt, but even he wasn’t thick enough to believe that he sired a child without so much as sticking his prick into her.  No immaculate conception here.  It was time to resort to her backup plan, which she’d concocted after Sam’s hurtful rejection. 

Come to think of it, she was now glad that Sam turned out to be married and oh-so-devoted to his prissy English wife.  Life on a farm wasn’t for her, and the thought of bearing any more children didn’t particularly appeal either.  Sam had his wife full in the belly just as soon as the other sprat popped out, and birthing baby after baby wasn’t what Diana had in mind.  She’d leave Sam to his “domestic bliss” and get on with her life, which Nat couldn’t be a part of either.  She had to admit that she’d miss the boy, but it wasn’t fair to drag him into the life she planned to lead.  He was better off where he was, surrounded by good, kind, God-fearing folk
; the kind she hoped to avoid from now on. 

She particularly hoped never to clap her eyes on Hannah’s brother, Alfred Hewitt
, again.  The man had eyes that just bored into the soul, pushing past all the sentimental fodder straight to the heart of his victim, able to see their every wicked thought and desire.  He’d been charming and polite to her, but her skin prickled with gooseflesh after he’d shaken her hand in greeting, making her want to run and hide from his piercing, unforgiving gaze.  Diana suspected that he was a highly-placed member of the Committee of Correspondence, but no one ever said so out loud.  She did know, however, that whatever information Finn brought back went directly to Mr. Hewitt, and then quite possibly to George Washington himself.

Diana sighed as she turned from the mirror.  Finn’s return had marked the end of her time with the Mallorys and a beginning of a new chapter in her life, one that promised to be a more pleasant one tha
n the one she just finished.

Everyone had been overjoyed to see Finn, especially Abbie
, who clung to him as if he’d been gone for years, not weeks.  She sat next to him at the supper table, her eyes shining with happiness, and her hand constantly straying to his as he recounted his adventures and made light of his near-capture by the British.  To everyone’s great relief, Finn brought news of Jonah, who’d been ill after the disaster at Brier Creek.  Finn’s eyes held Diana’s as he spoke of Jonah, letting her know that he knew of her deception.  The charade was over, and it was time to acknowledge defeat and rethink her position.

She’d gone to bed as usual, lying still and waiting for the soft snoring of Hannah Mallory and the even breathing of the girls; only then did she get out of bed, throw a shawl over her nightdress, and made her way quietly outside.  John Mallory rarely went to bed early; he liked to stay up long after everyone was asleep, smoking his pipe as he leaned on the stile and looked up at the stars, so abundant in the pitch-black heavens above the isolated farm.   Tonight
, Alfred Hewitt had gone outside with him, but thankfully he was long gone, leaving John alone to enjoy the peaceful silence of the autumn night.  He didn’t turn as she approached, but continued to look up as if she weren’t even there.

“Good evening, John,” Diana began, her voice silky and low despite the butterflies in her belly.  Everything hinged on this conversation
, and she had to stay in control and not let him dissuade her from her goal. 

“And good evening to you, Diana,” John replied, never turning to face her.  “I suppose this is the part where you tell me the truth and throw yourself on my mercy,” he guessed, but Diana just shook her head.

“No, John, this is the part where I ask you for money and disappear from your life.”

“Really?” he asked as if she just said she’d come out for a breath of air.

“I’m sure you know that Jonah isn’t really Nat’s father,” she began.

“The thought has crossed my mind,” John Mallory replied, finally turning to face Diana in the darkness.  She didn’t like the look on his face, but at this point
, there was no backing down.  She had no choice.

“I think it would be best if I left quietly, don’t you?” she asked, smiling at John in her most winsome manner.

“I’m listening.”

“I think Nat is better off with his family, but I don’t belong here, not anymore.  I have plans of opening my own brothel, one where I’m the mistress and I don’t have to work on my back and give fifty percent to some
madam.  I have the expertise to make such an enterprise a success,” she announced proudly.  “However, I need funds to make a start, and that’s where you come in.”

“And why, pray tell, should I finance your establishment?” John looked bitter in the moonlight, his lips compressed into a thin line, his eyes black holes in his shadowed face.

“Because I have the power to harm you and your family, John.  I’ve no doubt Major Weland would be most eager to find out where a certain spy named Abigail Whitfield resides with her husband and brother, who are guilty of the murder of two British soldiers.  He might be willing to pay for the information most handsomely, don’t you think?  If you give me enough money to start my business, you will never see me or hear from me again.  I will never ask for more, nor will I ever try to reclaim my son.  He’s your grandson and should be with you and his natural father.  I don’t care what you tell him about me; just take good care of him.  I do love him, you know.” 

“Yes, I can see that,” John Mallory replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm and his eyes glinting in the darkness.  “You’re a clever girl, aren’t you?  Was this the plan all along
, or did Sam reject your advances and force you to come up with an alternative?”  Diana didn’t reply, but her face was answer enough. 

John Mallory turned away from her once again and puffed on his pipe in silence, the smoke curling and dissipating into the night and leaving a sweet and pungent smell in its wake.  Diana waited patiently for him to speak as her stomach launched into an acrobatic performance nearly making her sick. 

“I’m not a wealthy man, Diana, but I do have some money put by.  I will give you enough to start your business on one condition.  You will return to New York and stay away from my family now and forever.  And if any harm befalls either my children or Finn, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you with my bare hands.  Is that understood?”  Diana had expected nothing less from John, so she nodded in acquiescence, agreeing to the deal.  She had no intention of betraying the Mallorys.  It was only a gamble on her part to get the money.  After all, she needed some leverage against someone as canny as John Mallory.  Once she had the money, she’d be free at last, and the Mallorys would be a distant memory, along with Nat.  She could set up in New York and go back to her clandestine activities – spying for both sides.  It was a lucrative trade in more ways than one.  No matter which side ultimately won, she’d be right where she needed to be
—
safe and comfortably off.

“Get your things and be quiet about it.  I will take you to Williamsburg tonight.  There’s a coach heading north in two days time and you will be on it.”  With that, John walked away from her. 

The ride into Williamsburg had been silent and tense, John’s disgust clearly visible on his face as he let her off in front of the inn and threw down her satchel.  He didn’t say goodbye or wish her well, just rode off into the night, back to his family.  Diana didn’t care; there was a comforting weight of a money pouch against her thigh, and the jingle of coins as she walked up the stairs to her room was music to her ears.  She had what she wanted, and life was full of promise once again.