Chapter Twenty-Four

Juliet followed Edmund as he burst into his father’s office, soldiers stumbling and murmuring apologies to their commander for allowing him to enter unannounced.

“Father,” Edmund said, his voice deep and edged with deadly calm. I have come from the jail. There is an Indian…a mirror image of me. I demand an explanation and I want it now.”

In an instant, Edmund loped to his father’s desk and for a moment, she though he might jump over it to reach his father. But he stopped short, his thighs touching the wood, his hands clenching. Juliet glanced from man to the other.

Faulkner raised a flaccid hand and waved off his soldiers, waiting until the door clicked shut. “You’ve not been invited into my office, Edmund,” said Faulkner, his expression passive…as uninterested in Edmund as he was in the half-eaten breakfast on his massive desk. He shoved aside the pewter plate. Studied his fingernails.

A tick vibrated in Edmund’s jaw, his body rigid, as if holding back a rage so great it might explode if he allowed it. This was a side she had not once witnessed in her cousin before.

The air grew heavy and the humidity pressed down. The wool of her gown chafed and sweated against her breasts. A stillness fell over the office, and in the silence, came a low crackle of thunder, rolling across the rooftops.

“I’m not waiting for an invite. I want an answer.”

The colonel stood, his chair scraped across the floor, smacked the wall behind him. “You are tired, and your mind is playing tricks on you.”

“He is my brother. Do not deny it.”

It was the first time Juliet had seen the colonel speechless. With his hands behind his back, Faulkner sauntered to the window, looked out, seemingly lost in thought.

The ominous clouds that had threatened crept in quickly. The atmosphere lay suffocating. The scent of rain wound dark and heady. Even the wind held its breath. A streak of hot silver split the sky and a downpour began.

Huge heavy raindrops pattered on the roof, then the wind picked up, slashing the rain against the windows and muddying the yard below, the storm spilling its wrath upon the earth.

“You are right, Edmund. I am not your real father although Emmaline and I are your parents in every sense of the word.

“Your mother was weak with the loss of several babes. I loved her. I had to bring her back from the madness taking hold of her. She delivered another stillborn and the doctor dosed her with laudanum. I dreaded her awakening to find she had lost another babe.

“To clear my head, I took a ride in the forests. I happened to come by an Oneida Indian woman who had given birth in the woods. As was their custom, they delivered babies away from the village.

“You were born on the cold ground from a savage woman. There were twins. One was dark and the other, peculiarly light. The savage woman lay unconscious from her ordeal. I rode back to the fort, took my dead child and replaced it with the whiter baby of the Indian woman’s twins. I figured she had a son left to her, and my Emmaline would have a son.”

Edmund rubbed the back of his neck. “All my life, I’ve known. I can’t describe it…couldn’t touch it…couldn’t feel it, yet something tangible was there.”

The colonel pivoted. “Stop your theatrics at once. You are not a savage.”

Edmund stilled, a low hum of fury escaped his lips. He slammed his fist on the desk. The dishes, ink bottle and quill jumped. “You stole me from my mother?”

“It was a decision I made for you and your mother’s benefit.”

“You are confused, Father. Emmaline is not my real mother.”

“How can you say that? She gave you great love. You were educated and given every advantage of a gentleman.”

“I was denied my real mother and brother. And whatever your thoughts are of Emmaline, she was mad. The things she did to me. As a child, she locked me a dark closet for days, starving me, laughing when I begged her to let me out. How she lived to mock and ridicule me and make me cry because it was titillating for her.”

Edmund tore his shirt from his waistband, lifted his shirt. Raised white leathery scars rioted across his back. Nausea rolled in Juliet’s stomach and she turned away, her heart aching for her cousin. She thought back to when they were children. No wonder he wanted to hide in the garden with her. He was afraid of his mother.

“When the servants were not around, Mother tied me to the bed and burned me with a poker, and then threatened to kill me if I told anyone. I suffered in silence. The nanny had seen the burns and did her best to protect me from Emmaline, and wrote to you suggesting boarding school.”

Outside, a dark, dense gray cloud cast them in a premature twilight, but inside it was darker, almost black. Though he did not move a muscle, the colonel turned pale. Juliet stood close enough to see the pulse leap at his temple. “I never knew—”

Edmund raked his long fingers through his hair, the same black hair of his twin. “Of course not. You abandoned us in the guise of duty. How could you have known from thousands of miles away? The one time you did come home, you were only there for two weeks. During your visit, Emmaline placed such fear in me that I dared not speak one word of her sins.”

“I could not deal with your mother. She became worse and worse I was at a loss. England was the best answer for her and for you, I thought. I hope you can forgive me, Edmund and put this behind us.” He glared at Juliet and moved to his desk.

“You will not execute my brother,” Edmund said in clear, articulated words.

The rain lashed down, torrential and unforgiving. In the meager light, the colonel’s dark blue eyes darted from Juliet to Edmund. Gone was any remorse, replaced by a smile that rattled the nerves up Juliet’s back.

“Edmund, I should at no time allowed you to come here. You have been gently reared and do not understand the oath I’ve pledged. I’m a soldier of the Crown with sworn duty to the King. Two Eagles is a spy. I will act accordingly with the law. He will hang with the other traitor on the morrow. There will be no further discussion.”

“Have you not neglected the weightier matters of law—justice and mercy? Do you not have a conscience?”

“My conscience?” The colonel’s mouth curved into a cold sickle of amusement. His voice a whisper meant for Edmund alone. “My dear son, where on earth did you get the notion tI had one?”

“The greatest heresies in the world are not committed by people breaking the rules but by people blindly following the rules. Your dogmatism will be your undoing, Father.”

“Are you threatening me for that savage and his traitor friend?”

Edmund drew his tall frame to his full height and glared at the man he had called his father all the years of his life. “The real issue is your prejudice. You cannot tolerate the fact my brother and mother are savages. You forget, I am a savage, too. Indian blood runs through me. I beg you once more to stop this madness.”

The colonel’s face flushed red and the veins in his thick neck protruded. “There will be no further discussion.” He kicked his chair forward, flopped into it, and picked up his quill, writing furiously.

“You are not the father I thought I had. This is the end of our relationship. I’ll return to England as soon as it can be arranged.” Edmund turned, stalked across the room and slammed the door with such force it clanged the muskets hanging on the wall.

“Colonel,” Juliet said, her voice composed in spite of her throat clogging. “Won’t you reconsider?”

“Not all of life’s lessons come wrapped in a shiny bow,” said the colonel. He seemed as volatile and unpredictable as the winds racing across the Great Lake of Ontario. His craving for power and control equaled his lust for his rum.

“This is not about a suckling babe at his mother’s breast. This concerns war, matters you as a woman cannot possibly understand. Regardless of the costs, I will remain in compliance with His Majesty.”

The decision was set in stone. Nothing she might say or do would change the course of events. She balled her fists, her fingernails jammed into her palms, and the bloodletting of her soul began. He had the same disregard for women embraced by her own father. “I finally know the difference between pleasing and loving, obeying and respecting. It has taken me many years to be fine with being different. My father prejudiced me with being born, and now I see you, tethered with the same narrow-mindedness. Where will your waltz with pride and arrogance lead you?”

He pounded a meaty fist on his desk. “I am in charge here,” he blustered. “The canny frontiersman you are championing used you to gain access to my fort to get information. The man is an accomplished liar. Do you know he claimed to be a nobleman to escape the noose?” He blew on the paper to dry the ink, and then peered up at her. “In time, Edmund will see the folly of his request and what is best for him. As for your opinion, I do not care. I have accepted Captain Sutherland’s proposal in marriage for you.”

“What!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you might do better to bow to my wishes to join in matrimony with Captain Sunderland than try with my patience?”

He was her elder cousin and, with certainty, flaunting his control over her future. “Of course, wedding Captain Sunderland might raise your own misplaced standing in society. I refuse to marry him.”

“A woman’s path is not mapped, it is made. My decisions are for the best, and I will not discuss this further. Guards!”

Blood rushed to her head. She felt herself sway on unsteady legs as her last hope shattered.

The door opened and a guard stood at attention, waiting the colonel’s further command. “Escort Lady Faulkner to her quarters and take this order to Captain Sunderland to commence the hanging of two spies on the morrow.”