Chapter
5

Angelique gingerly opened the back door of the tavern, holding her breath and praying Ebenezer was still down on the beach.

She hadn’t meant to linger at Miriam’s. If only Pierre hadn’t been there when she’d arrived. If only he hadn’t been kneeling before Miriam, offering the sweetest, most sincere apology she’d ever heard. If only he hadn’t returned to the island at all. Then maybe her whole body wouldn’t be trembling from the confusion his presence had stirred inside her.

She pushed the door wider, the dark interior of the kitchen devoid of its usual heat. The dining room beyond was alive with the loud laughter and songs of the men who’d claimed a spot at the inn—the first time sleeping in a real bed in a year’s time.

Perhaps Ebenezer was busy pilfering his customers, as was his custom. Whatever the case, Angelique released a soft breath, grateful the kitchen was deserted. She closed the door behind her and began to tiptoe past several barrels Ebenezer had purchased from the supplies that had come off the ships.

God had helped them survive another winter. Their days of starvation were over. At least temporarily.

At the beach earlier, everyone had been talking about how an attack from the Americans was imminent, that a fleet of American ships was on the way, and that they would attempt to retake the island.

When she’d heard the news, Angelique didn’t know whether to be excited or worried. The last time the Americans had sailed into the northern waters of the Great Lakes, they’d formed a blockade that hadn’t allowed the British supply ships to reach Michilimackinac. She just prayed they wouldn’t experience another blockade and that this time the Americans would reclaim the island so Jean could return.

She stepped lightly toward the back stairway, but a plank in the floor squeaked. She paused and held her breath, her stomach growling and reminding her that even with the feasting and new food supplies, she hadn’t eaten enough to ease the ache in her stomach.

“And where have you been, young lady?” Ebenezer spoke from the doorway that led into the dining room.

Defeat crashed down on Angelique. She’d hoped with the coming of the ships, she’d regain some freedom that came with the busyness of summer.

Her stepfather’s bulky frame filled the doorway, and the light from the dining room gleamed off the round bald spot at the top of his head. A ring of black hair surrounded the shining skin of his head, reminding her of the tonsure of the Jesuit priests. His plain gray shirt hung loosely over his fleshy middle, almost like a priestly robe.

“Where have you been?” he repeated louder. “And why are you sneaking in so late?”

“I’m sorry.” She hung her head as he would expect. “With all the excitement of the day I lost track of the time.”

“You didn’t have permission to go anywhere.”

“I didn’t think you’d mind today.”

Ebenezer stepped into the kitchen. “Of course I mind.” His tone took on the seething angry quality that didn’t bode well. “As long as God’s given you into my charge, I expect you to obey me and to abide the Ten Commandments.”

“I do my best—”

“Not when you steal food right off this very table. Food I forbade you to eat.” He brought his hand down as if to slam it against the plank worktable that Betty used for preparing the meals for the guests. But instead of slamming the wood, he stopped himself and thumped it gently with his palm.

“Steal?” She glanced at the table, empty except for several greasy pans. “I haven’t stolen anything—”

“Don’t talk to me that way, young lady.” His tone turned low and menacing. “Betty told me she left the rest of the bread here, but that when she came back into the kitchen, it was gone.”

Angelique thought back to her encounter with Betty earlier in the day and the offer of the bread. She knew Betty had eaten it, but she didn’t want Betty to get into trouble. “Perhaps one of the guests took it?”

“Stop lying to me!” The words burst out loud and harsh before he caught himself, cleared his throat, and then spoke again in a too-calm voice. “You’re only sinning further by lying to me.”

“I’m sorry.” She quelled her angry retort. She knew it would do no good to argue with him.

“After all this time I’d expected more character growth within you. But instead you are still very much like your sinful mother.”

Angelique shook her head. She didn’t want to struggle with the longings of her flesh like her mother had, but what if she did have the same wayward tendencies?

Ebenezer crossed the dark room toward her. “Come with me. Apparently you’re in need of more discipline.” He gripped her forcefully, giving her little choice but to allow him to propel her toward the narrow stairwell.

As he started up the steps, his fingers tightened. With each step they ascended, his breathing grew louder.

When they reached the second floor, a sliver of light met them. Betty stood at the crack in their bedroom door in a lacy nightgown that hung embarrassingly low. Ebenezer stalked past without a glance, dragging Angelique along behind him until they reached the ladder that led to the attic.

“Go to your room.” He shoved her away from him toward the ladder. “And you will stay there all day tomorrow, praying and repenting for your sins.”

Angelique started up the rungs and couldn’t resist glancing through the shadows to where Betty stood. A flicker of remorse crossed the woman’s face, but then she quickly closed the bedroom door without saying a word to defend Angelique.

Angelique scrambled the rest of the way up the ladder and crawled into her room, shutting the trapdoor behind her, wishing it were as easy to shut out the sting of Betty’s silence.

Though she’d encouraged Betty to eat the food and didn’t begrudge her the extra, she wished Betty would have spoken up for her. At the very least, the woman could have deferred the blame on to one of the guests.

The ladder scraped against the wall as Ebenezer pulled it away, trapping her in the cold, windowless room as he’d done many times before.

She sat back on her heels, her head brushing against the low roof rafter. The dark reaches of the attic were crowded with empty crates and a few worthless trinkets left from last fall that Ebenezer would likely sell to the Indians.

What had her mother ever seen in Ebenezer? After all the men her mother had lived with after the death of her father, why had she finally chosen to marry Ebenezer?

That was the question that haunted Angelique during these confrontations. And she didn’t want to delve too deeply into the painful memories of the past for fear that blame might rest upon her.

After all, she’d been the one—not Therese—to cry about missing Michilimackinac, to complain about wanting a real family, and to blame their mother for all that had happened to destroy the happy home they’d once had.

Angelique didn’t want to think that perhaps her mother had married Ebenezer for her, so that she could return to the only place where she’d ever known happiness, however brief it had been. The thought was too painful to consider.

She sagged against the wall. She couldn’t keep from overhearing the click of the door beneath her room, the squeak of the bed frame, and Ebenezer’s low voice followed by Betty’s higher one.

Quickly she began to hum, and she reached up to the rafter, to the makeshift shelf that doubled as a hiding spot for the only worldly possessions she owned. She skimmed the board until her fingers brushed against the smooth ivory edge of the comb that Jean had once given her. She brought it down and caressed it.

At the sound of Ebenezer’s grunt from the room beneath, Angelique squeezed her eyes closed and hummed louder. She wrapped her fingers around the comb.

If only God would hasten the day of Jean’s return. Then she’d finally be free. She’d finally be able to have the family and stable life she’d always wanted.

Angelique awoke to the scraping of the ladder against the wall.

“Come down this instant, Angelique” came Ebenezer’s call from below.

She sat up and glanced to the far end of the attic, to the light filtering through the cracks in the roof. From the slant of the rays, she could tell it was still early morning.

“You must hurry.” Ebenezer’s voice held an eagerness that Angelique heard only when he was counting his coins. “You have a visitor.”

A visitor? She rose from her sleeping pallet onto her knees, bumping her head against a beam. Who could possibly be calling? And why?

Miriam. Had something happened to Miriam?

She grabbed her mobcap from the dusty floor and pulled it on over her tangle of long curls. Then she scrambled toward the hatch.

Maybe Pierre had come to deliver bad tidings regarding Miriam.

When she lifted the door open, Ebenezer was there, scowling up at her, his all-seeing eyes taking in her disheveled appearance. “You’re in no condition to be seen by anyone.”

She hastily shoved the curls into her cap out of sight as he required, then straightened her high collar so that it brushed against her chin.

He glanced down at her dirty bare toes before he spun away and hustled down the hallway, clearly expecting her to follow him as quickly as possible.

He didn’t stop until he stood in the kitchen by the door leading into the spacious tavern area, where the guests congregated to drink and eat. The mustiness of stale tobacco lingered with the scent of fried fish, making Angelique’s stomach rumble, reminding her of how hungry she was.

Ebenezer wiped a hand across his bald spot, polishing it. And then he furrowed his brow so that his ring of hair dipped. “Whatever she wants you to do, you do it.”

She?

Ebenezer was already striding into the dining room, a wide smile plastered onto his face.

Angelique knew she had no choice but to follow him.

“Miss McDouall,” Ebenezer said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Miss McDouall? Angelique froze halfway through the doorway.

There in the dining room stood the beautiful young woman who’d come ashore yesterday from the ships. She was clothed in a gown just as flouncy and frilly as the one she’d worn previously, with a high waist and lines of ruffles layered over the skirt. Angelique didn’t know much about British fashion, but she could tell from the style and embellishments that Miss McDouall was every bit a lady.

Behind her, in the shadows of the doorway, stood a British soldier who’d likely been sent to accompany and protect her.

“No need to apologize, Mr. Whiley. If you would be so kind as to introduce me to your stepdaughter, I would be ever so grateful.” She smiled brightly at Angelique, her attention flitting to Angelique’s soiled skirt, but then just as rapidly returned to her face, as if she were making an effort not to gape at the filth.

“Ah, yes, Miss McDouall.” Ebenezer frowned at Betty, who’d stopped her work of clearing the remains of last night’s drinking to stare with open mouth at Miss McDouall. The mugs and pitchers were drained. The tables glistened with sticky spots, which was all that remained of Ebenezer’s overpriced rum.

“This is my stepdaughter, Angelique MacKenzie.” Ebenezer waved her forward. “Her poor mother, God rest her soul, gave me charge of the girl and made me vow to take care of her until she’s properly wedded. And I’ve taken my duties very seriously.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Miss MacKenzie,” the woman said, her pretty face alight with interest.

What exactly did the woman want? Why had she come?

Angelique’s empty stomach cinched. Miss McDouall’s presence didn’t bode well. Angelique knew she’d be better off staying far away from the woman. But at the warning glint in Ebenezer’s eyes, Angelique nodded at Miss McDouall and forced out the greeting expected of her. “Thank you. I’m pleased to meet you too.”

“Wonderful.” Miss McDouall clasped her gloved hands together. “From the second I saw you, I just knew you would benefit from my help.”

Angelique started to shake her head. Everyone on the island looked gaunt and hungry after the winter. They could all benefit from Miss McDouall’s help. In fact, if Miss McDouall had been on the island all winter she wouldn’t have looked quite so fresh herself.

“Perhaps you’re just the influence Angelique needs,” Ebenezer said before Angelique could formulate a response. “The Lord knows I’ve tried so often over the years to teach her to be a good Christian. But unfortunately I still have more trouble with her than I’d like.”

Protest rose swiftly inside Angelique. How could he say such a thing? She never gave him any trouble. In fact, she always tried to go out of her way to avoid him.

“Then this is indeed a meeting orchestrated by God himself,” Miss McDouall said. “My father wasn’t quite sure that he wanted a lady like myself to come to this remote and desolate area of the wilderness, but I assured him God had put a call on my life. I’ve been quite willing to sacrifice my own comfort so that I can be of help to someone less fortunate than myself.”

“Someone less fortunate?” Angelique blurted the words before she could stop them. She didn’t need Miss McDouall’s charity, especially when there were others who would benefit from it much more than her. “I can help you find islanders in need of your generosity. There is one widow in particular who is blind and could use help planting her fields and repairing her roof.”

Miss McDouall’s smile faltered. “I regret to hear of the widow, Miss MacKenzie.” She smoothed her white gloves over the glossy layers of her gown. “But as you can see, I’m not exactly a farmer. I’m afraid I wouldn’t do the poor woman any good at all.”

“Of course not,” Ebenezer said, frowning at Angelique, his narrowed eyes telling her she would pay for her obstinate remark later. “You’re much more suited to bestow your kindness upon another young woman, like Angelique.”

“I agree, Mr. Whiley. We all do have varying gifts and abilities. I have come to cheer up the soldiers with dances and parties. I hope to form a Soldiers Relief Committee with the purpose of helping provide better clothes and food for our soldiers. And I would like to bestow my personal attention to one of the island’s more unfortunate women.”

Unfortunate? Angelique wanted to shrink in embarrassment.

“After all,” Miss McDouall continued, “I do seem to have a talent for helping less fortunate women better themselves.”

“I for one will be grateful for any changes you can bring about in Angelique.”

Miss McDouall clapped her hands together again and her smile returned. “Then I shall start at once. I would like to offer an invitation for Miss MacKenzie to join me for tea this afternoon in the officers’ quarters in the fort. Shall we say at half past three?”

Ebenezer spoke hurriedly. “Angelique might be too busy today.”

Angelique wanted to laugh at the thought of her being busy—not when she’d be in her dark dormer room doing nothing.

Miss McDouall’s smile disappeared altogether, and her expression turned petulant. “I really have no time to waste. My father insists that I leave the island by the end of the summer. If I am to help Miss MacKenzie, then I shall need to take advantage of every opportunity I have.”

“Yes, but she must fish. We rely on her fishing—”

“Could she not fish this morning?”

Ebenezer didn’t say anything. The silence was filled with the clinking of mugs and clanking of silverware from Betty’s table-clearing efforts.

“I’m sure Miss MacKenzie wouldn’t mind changing her plans just slightly, would you, dear?” Miss McDouall had turned her sweetest smile upon Angelique.

If only the woman knew just how little control Angelique had over her schedule. “I’m willing, yes, but I must do whatever my stepfather wishes.”

The soldier near the door stepped out of the shadows. “Mr. Whiley, I suggest you accommodate Miss McDouall’s request as best you can.”

Angelique took a quick step backward. It was Lieutenant Steele, the quartermaster, the same soldier that had attacked her two mornings ago.

The lieutenant was dressed in a fresh uniform that had likely been among the items on the supply ships. The red of his new coat was brilliant in the morning sunshine streaming through the doorway. And although his handsome face was still thin, he’d shaven and had lost the wild, ravenous glint.

“Commander McDouall is very supportive of his daughter’s charity efforts,” the quartermaster continued. “I suggest you do whatever you can to support her efforts as well.”

Did Lieutenant Steele remember her?

Angelique resisted the urge to touch her neck and the bruises he’d left.

He didn’t bother looking at her. And his face was stiff and impersonal. If he’d recalled their encounter, he apparently wasn’t going to reveal it.

“Well,” Ebenezer said slowly, “if you feel it would be best for Angelique to visit you today—”

“I do,” Miss McDouall interrupted. “I’d be ever so grateful to you.”

Ebenezer looked at Angelique. She could sense he didn’t want to release her from her discipline, yet what choice did he have? He couldn’t refuse Miss McDouall’s request, not with the lieutenant standing by.

“Run along and do your fishing now, dear, if you must.” Miss McDouall fanned her hand at Angelique, shooing her away. “Just make sure you’re ready at half past three for our tea. I shall send Lieutenant Steele after you to accompany you to the fort.”

Angelique stifled a shiver at the thought of having to be alone with Lieutenant Steele again. “Thank you, Miss McDouall. I’ll be waiting.” And then before anyone could stop her, she turned and sped through the kitchen toward the back door.

She knew she ought to feel grateful for Miss McDouall’s invitation. It would mean food and an escape from Ebenezer’s overbearing control for part of the day. But she couldn’t shake the feeling again, that an association with Miss McDouall would only bring her trouble, especially after she’d worked so hard to stay invisible.

For the moment, though, she was free. Free from the confines of the attic, free to go out in her canoe, and free to savor the beautiful May morning. She would relish the precious moments, no matter the consequences she would face later.