After agreeing to meet Tuck at his plantation in an hour, Colin quietly closed the door behind his friend. He needed a moment or two—or better still, a day or two—to formulate words that would pacify Mariah.
That was not to be.
The library door swung open within seconds. “I saw Tuck charge down the steps to his horse and—” Mariah stopped speaking and crossed the room, her intent gaze searching Colin’s expression. “I don’t relish the look on your face. What did Dennis say that has you so upset?”
Colin exhaled a slow breath, still trying to gather his thoughts. “Let’s go into the parlor, my love.” He gestured for her to precede him.
She didn’t move. She stood regarding him with a puzzled frown. “Whatever for? You were going to show me the location of the land you purchased.”
“Forgive me, but that will have to wait. An urgent matter has arisen. Please…” He motioned again toward the door. From her confused demeanor, he knew this was not going to be easy.
With some hesitation, she finally turned and did as bidden. Once in the parlor she took a seat on the damask settee and sat with her hands in her lap.
Colin gave fleeting consideration to taking a chair as far from her as possible but summoned his courage and sat beside her. He took her hands in his.
“Well?” Her dark curls graced her shoulder as she tipped her head in question.
“There’s no easy way to say this.”
“To say what?”
“I…I’m afraid I must leave again.”
“Leave!” Her slender brows dipped toward each other. “When?”
Colin swallowed. “Now. Our local militia has been ordered to report to Alexandria at once.”
“What are you saying, Colin? Surely they can’t mean you. You’re not a soldier. You’re a plantation owner. A horse breeder.”
Hating the look of pain in her eyes, he stroked his thumbs across the backs of her small hands. “This isn’t England, sweetheart. Here in Virginia we don’t have a standing army. Able-bodied men normally meet every month or so for drills. And when trouble arises, we’re obligated to serve.”
“But—” Mariah averted her gaze for a heartbeat, then returned it to him. “If what you’re saying is true, why would your father go off to Baltimore as if nothing were amiss?”
“The orders were issued only a few days ago. With me away in England, he probably saw no reason to alarm all of you, especially since the trouble with the French is on the other side of the mountains. But even at that distance it’s still in Virginia’s territory and therefore must be defended.”
“But if no one knows you’ve returned…” She gave a little shrug, a pleading look of hope.
“People do know. I disembarked at Alexandria. Folks saw me when I rode through town. I’m honor bound to go. It’s my duty.”
“Honor bound!” With a gasp, Mariah tore her hands from his. “What about your honor to me? You made promises to me, too. Not ten minutes ago you assured me we’d be married. Soon! Yet now you say you’re going to ride off for who knows how long, leaving me here to languish again, and still as an indentured servant.”
“Mariah, my love, the important thing is that you’ll be here under my family’s protection till I return. I don’t believe this venture will take us more than a month or two to put to rights. Once we arrive in force, the French are sure to hightail it back up to Canada. The Indians in the area are loyal to us. They’ve been quite happy trading with the Ohio and Virginia Company for several years now. They’ll side with us. You’ve nothing to fear.”
“The Ohio and Virginia Company.” She drew her lips inward in thought then relaxed them. “My sister is with one of their traders, is she not? Do you think Rose could be in danger?”
Colin cocked his head. “I seriously doubt she would’ve been taken into Indian Territory.” He took her hands in his again. “It would be unseemly to take a gentlewoman into such a primitive area.”
“But you don’t know that for certain, do you? If you must go to join the militia at Alexandria, I beg you to find out exactly where Rose is. She was bought by that man Eustice…Eustice something. Smith, I believe it was. Eustice Smith. Please, Colin, would you do that for me?”
He smiled. “First thing, my love. I’ll go to their headquarters again before I report for duty. Surely they know where she is by now.”
At the despair evident in her expression, Colin drew her to him and held her close. “I’m so sorry. I love you so very, very much. Leaving you—even the thought of it—is like tearing my heart out.”
“Mine, too,” she murmured against his neck, her lips soft and moist.
He raised her beautiful sad face up and took possession of those luscious lips in a deep, wrenching kiss. How would he ever make himself walk out that door? But reality brought him back to earth. One thing that could never be bought was a man’s honor. He had to go.
Mariah paced the parlor floor, pausing every few minutes to look out the windows. Rain again. Would it never stop? It seemed the sky was weeping the tears she no longer possessed.
Two dreary, drizzly weeks had passed since the Barclays and Colin had left her in this big empty house alone. The family was to have been back in a week, but the foul weather must have delayed them. And Colin…Mr. Scott had expressed doubts that the militia would leave for the wilderness until the worst of the mountain snows had subsided. Small comfort, since wherever Colin was, he’d be out marching and drilling in this horrid weather. He could come down with lung fever and die. She shied away from the dreadful thought, unable to imagine an existence without him. At the same time, a tiny, shameful part of her worried on her own account. With Colin gone, her indenturement papers would belong to his parents, would they not? What would become of her then?
A gradual lessening of the heavy skies caused the room to lighten a bit, and Mariah moved to the window. Shafts of sunlight slanted through the clouds in the west. The storm must be coming to an end at last. She smiled. Perhaps she’d ride into Alexandria and check on Colin, make sure he was still in good health. He might have been able to learn something of Rose’s whereabouts. Surely the rain would stop by the time she had a horse saddled. And she’d take some of Eloise’s tastiest cooking along for him, as well.
Colin would be thrilled to see her; she was certain of that. She reached into the lace tucker in her bodice for the proof of his love and drew out the ring she wore hidden on a chain around her neck in case his family returned unexpectedly.
Turning from the window, she caught sight of a rider on the edge of her vision coming up the lane. Colin? Please let it be him. Perhaps he’d decided not to go with the militia after all. She tucked her ring back out of sight again.
But as the rider neared, she could tell it was someone else. With his hat pulled low against the rain, she couldn’t make out the man’s face. Dread cinched her heart. Was he the bearer of bad news?
She didn’t wait for him to come to the door but snatched her cloak from the hall peg and tossed it about her shoulders as she hurried outside and down the steps. Before he even dismounted, she questioned him. “Have you come bearing news?”
“Actually, I have.” He gave a nod. “I’ve some mail from Colin.”
“You’ve seen him?” Hope sprang anew inside her being.
“Aye, at the militia encampment south of Alexandria. He’s there with my son.”
Suddenly Mariah remembered her manners. “La, please forgive me. Would you care to come inside out of the rain and have something warm to drink? You look drenched.”
“That I am, miss.” Swinging down to the ground, he shook rain from his slicker before following her up to the veranda. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m Albert Tucker, Dennis’s father.”
Now that she took a closer look, Mariah remembered seeing him at the gala on race day. Though considerably more heavy than his son, he did share the same hazel eyes and a smile reminiscent of Tuck’s. “So pleased to meet you, sir. I’m Mariah Harwood, tutoress to Colin’s sisters.”
“Yes, I reckoned that. Dennis has often spoken kindly of you and how your tutorage has benefited the girls.” He followed her inside.
“We find your son a very entertaining young gentleman,” Mariah said, taking his rain slicker. “Do have a seat in the parlor. I’ll go tell the cook we’ll be needing refreshments.”
Moments later, she found Mr. Tucker comfortably settled in a wing chair near the fire. He looked up with a smile as she approached. “Actually, I’ve come with several pieces of correspondence. Colin asked me to collect all the Barclay mail.” He drew the items from an inside pocket of his frock coat.
“How kind of you.” Mariah accepted the proffered missives and laid them on the side table, then took a seat across from him. Despite being intensely curious about the letters, she forced herself to give full attention to the visitor. “I assume Colin and Dennis are both well. I’ve been sorely tempted to ride into the city and check on them myself.”
Mr. Tucker chuckled, then broke into full-blown laughter as he rested his hands on the full girth bulging at the buttons of his coat.
Mariah smiled politely while she waited for his humor to subside.
As his laughter died away, he wiped away some tears and took a shuddering breath. “My apologies, miss. It’s just that every time I think of my son sloggin’ through the mud, marchin’ back and forth, back and forth, I can’t help but laugh. He expected to be ridin’ off on his trusty steed like some modern-day Lancelot to right all wrongs. It never dawned on him that in carryin’ out his noble cause he might get dirty.” He chuckled lightly again, then stifled it. “But the boy’ll learn. My hope is that he’ll come back a man ready to take up his responsibilities.”
Mariah mulled over his words. “Did they, perchance, give you any idea of how long they’ll be gone?”
“I’m afraid the boys don’t know much at this point. But from what I gathered from a merchant friend of mine, most of the supplies the militia’s been waitin’ for have come in. I imagine they’ll be leavin’ soon.”
“How long do you suppose they’ll be out there?” Fearing the answer, she held her breath.
“That’s hard to tell. Depends on how deeply entrenched the French have got themselves.”
Mariah’s spirits sank. “Are you saying they might be gone more than a month or two?” That was the amount of time Colin had figured the trouble would last.
He shrugged his shoulders and grimaced. “Don’t be gettin’ yourself all worked up, missy. The French are a long way down from Canada, and with a force of at least a thousand strung out for a couple hundred miles, that puts ’em a fair distance from their supplies. They should be runnin’ out about now. It shouldn’t take much to send ’em packin’.”
Much as Mariah would have liked to believe that, doubts assailed her. “But wouldn’t the Indians give them—”
Mr. Tucker wagged his graying head, his leather-bound queue brushing across his back. “We’ve got trade agreements with most of the Indians. They won’t help the French. Now, stop your frettin’. And tell little Tori not to worry either. Worry causes lines in pretty faces.”
Mariah detested being treated like a brainless twit. Nevertheless, she smiled while waiting for Pansy to bring in the tea tray. The sooner the man was served, the sooner he’d leave, and she’d be able to read the letter from Colin.
Another long, uncertain week crept by after reading Colin’s disturbing note. According to him, Rose truly was deep in Indian country, but doing fine…or so the fur company proprietors had assured Colin, who considered the information further reason to remain with the militia. He vowed to rescue her sister if she was in danger. Mariah let out a weary sigh. Dear, brave Colin. Ever the hero.
Detecting a sound from outside, she rose from picking out a nonsensical tune on the harpsichord and meandered to the front window, where she spied the family’s landau coming up the lane! “Thank heavens!” She slapped her hands together.
Then reality returned, and she wasn’t sure whether to be glad or distressed. Having been in Baltimore these past weeks, they wouldn’t know that Colin had come and gone…along with Victoria’s Dennis Tucker. Possibly even Edward Rochester and the Fairchild lad who’d been coming to call. Hopefully someone along the road had informed the family of the trouble with the French so she wouldn’t have to be the bearer of the unwelcome news.
She headed for the foyer to retrieve her cloak.
Benjamin came from the kitchen just then, wearing a happy grin. “Ah hears da carriage a-comin’. It’s about time. We been lonesome aroun’ here.”
Always amazed at how much the slaves liked their masters—despite being owned by them—Mariah recalled that Geoffrey Scott had informed her that these slaves were Christians. Free in Christ, at least. She supposed that did take a measure of the sting away from being in bondage.
The tall African swung the door wide and stepped out to greet the arriving family and assist the women.
Mariah decided she could do no less.
Amy emerged first out the carriage door. “Mariah! We’re home!”
She couldn’t help laughing. “And so you are.”
Victoria stepped down next. “Has my brother gotten home yet? Has Tuck come by asking for me? Or maybe Steven Fairchild?” She cast a furtive glance back at her mother, as if the third young man’s name had been added to appease the woman.
Dread engulfed Mariah. The family knew nothing about the events taking place in the territory. “Let’s get inside out of the cold, and I’ll relay the latest happenings. First I’ll go and tell Eloise you’ve come home.”
“Yes, do that.” Assisted by the butler, Mistress Barclay stepped gracefully down from the carriage. “If possible, we’d like an early supper. It’s been a long and tiring day. Tell Eloise nothing special. Whatever’s handy will do.”
“Oh, and welcome home,” Mariah remembered to say. “We’ve missed you.” As she ran up the steps, she realized she actually meant those words. She truly had missed them—all of them—even the regal lady of the manor.
By the time she and Lizzie returned with a tea tray and a platter of small tea cakes and cookies, they found the weary family lounging in the parlor while Benjamin and the driver carted the luggage into the foyer. There was no sense of alarm among the group, so obviously Benjamin hadn’t mentioned anything about Colin while she’d been in the kitchen.
Lizzie set the tea tray on the table and quietly took her leave. Mariah placed the cookies and cakes alongside. “Shall I pour?”
“Yes, please do.” The mistress fanned herself with a handkerchief. “It’s been a long, bumpy ride.”
“Has there been word as yet from Colin?” Mr. Barclay sat down next to his wife. “Since we were delayed so long in Baltimore, we surmised he’d be here by now to greet us.”
Just about to take her seat near the tea service, Mariah opted to remain standing. “Your son did, in fact, return home, sir. Three weeks ago. However, I’m sorry to report he was summoned to report for militia duty that same day.”
“You’re not serious!” His dark brows hiked high.
Mariah nodded. “Mr. Scott rode into Alexandria yesterday to check on them, and he was told the militia left for the Ohio Valley the previous day.”
“They did what?” Teacups rattled on the tray as Colin’s mother lunged forward. “Are you telling us that Colin left with the militia?”
“I’m afraid so, madam. He said he was duty bound to go with the militia and rout the French out of Virginia’s western territory.”
Mistress Barclay swung to her husband, a frantic expression contorting her face. “Eldon, you must go and fetch him home. He could get killed.”
“Colin’s gonna get killed?” Amy sprang to her feet.
Her mother turned toward the girls. “Go upstairs and change for dinner. At once.”
“But Mama!” Victoria protested.
“Now.” The mistress flicked a hand toward the door. “We’ll talk later, after we’ve heard all the details and have sorted them out.”
Watching the trio as they obeyed their mother, Mariah wished with every fiber of her being that she was going with them.
“Eldon, you must do something.” Twisting her handkerchief into a tight, untidy knot, Mistress Barclay swung her troubled gaze back to him.
“There’s nothing to be done, Cora, my dear. Colin has been on the militia roster since he turned sixteen. Surely you know that.”
“But it never meant anything,” she countered. “Just a bunch of young men strutting around the parade ground. Not leaving home and going off to start a war.”
He let out an exasperated breath. “Well, it means something now, I’m afraid. We’ve heard the reports about the French moving into English territory. It was only a matter of time until something had to be done about it. Call the girls back, and let’s have our tea. Mariah, would you pour now?”
“Surely, sir.” The worst was over. Emitting a tiny whoosh of relief, Mariah sat down and picked up the teapot.
Suddenly Colin’s mother shot a glare her way. “Why didn’t you stop him?” She grabbed Mariah’s hand. “You’re such a clever girl, and he’s so taken with you. I’m sure you could have used your feminine wiles to stop him from leaving.”
Stung by the woman’s vile insinuation, Mariah barely managed to set the hot china pot down before dropping it. “I tried, Mistress Barclay. I begged him not to go. Truly I did. But he insisted he had to go, that he was obligated. He would not be dissuaded.”
The woman came to her feet and loomed over Mariah, her face twisted, her hand raised, poised for a resounding slap. “You could have stopped him. You know you could have. If he gets killed it will be on your head. On your head! I want you out of my sight. Now!” She jabbed a manicured finger toward the door.