Once Dr. Anderson had announced that Emily and the baby would be fine, Andrew had been sent to Stephen Alcott’s on another errand for David. He wondered about this since David had been so active in the political discussions in the House of Burgesses until recently. Now he seemed determined to remain at Brentwood Manor, in fact, as close to Brentwood Manor as possible. Perhaps Joanna was with child again; how wonderful that would be. Their love and devotion was so evident that having another child would only enhance their life together. Cheered by this thought, Andrew urged Neptune to a faster pace anxious to return to the peace of Brentwood Manor after learning about the churning events in Williamsburg from Stephen.
Filled with these thoughts and anxious to relay the news to David, Andrew spurred the horse even faster. But it wasn’t just the excitement of the political upheaval that ran through his blood; he wanted to see Jenny. Their encounters had been awkward since the day of their ride. There had been no opportunity for them to speak alone, and Andrew was convinced that Jenny enabled that. He so desperately wanted to explain his pulling away from her that day—but how could he explain his fear of looking the fool to her? Just that explanation would make it so.
His thoughts turned to Deidre. What power did she hold over him to both repel and attract? He avoided her, and when they were in the same gathering, he avoided making eye contact. But he often felt her staring at him, as though somehow her gaze bore a hole right through him. And when she was not watching him, he stole glances at her and—he admitted to himself—wondered what it would be like to lie with her. She was beautiful with her golden hair and her shapely body. Perhaps he should accept her offer and learn the ways of love so that he could be the kind of lover that Jenny deserved. Suddenly he was filled with disgust at the thought of lying with Deidre, and even the thought of her repulsed him.
He shook his head. He wanted no woman but Jenny. He recalled how her dark hair shimmered as auburn highlights danced in the sun. When she laughed that single dimple caused heat to rise from his gut and spread throughout his limbs making him long to reach out and pull her into his embrace. Her skin, so fair and smooth, was golden in the evening candlelight, and he wondered what she would look like totally revealed in the glow of firelight. With these thoughts, he called to Neptune and dug in his heels. Consenting with a powerful neigh, Neptune leapt forward and took the road at a gallop.
• • •
Restless, Jenny paced her room. It had been a strange day at Brentwood Manor. Emily apparently had a fainting spell and the doctor was summoned, but somehow there seemed to be an underlying tension about the whole occurrence. She had been out riding when it happened, but Aunt Joanna had informed her of the incident upon her return. It was Uncle David who surprised her with his pent up emotion. Although she saw him only briefly at supper, his obvious anger was seething just below the surface. She had thought it best to remain in her room and allow events to sort themselves out.
Stopping at the window, she gazed out at the stars. Silvery against the night sky, the rising moon etched shadows across the lawns of the manor. She stared down the road wondering if Andrew would return this night. The strain between them had lasted since their outing, and she was unsure how to resolve it. She knew that he was attracted to her, the truth of that resonated in her heart. Yet, he had pulled away, and she felt rejected and humiliated. Was she not pretty enough? Was she too vocal in her political views? Her father had warned her that men were often intimidated by intelligent women whose interests ranged beyond the domestic arts. She sighed. Well, if that was the case, despite her feelings for him, Andrew was not the man for her, for she craved information and knowledge about the world. The events occurring across the colonies engrossed her, and she was accustomed to discussing them with her father at supper each evening. While David initially had been very involved with Virginia’s rebellion, he seemed to be distracted of late. But their discussions were always lively and she craved more involvement herself.
She had been staring down the road for several minutes and thought she saw movement in the garden. She closed her eyes, rubbed them and peered out again. It must have been an animal moving across the yard. She moved to her dressing table and pulled the pins out of her hair letting it drop down her back to her waist. Taking the brush, she performed her nightly ritual, brushing until her hair shone in the candlelight.
Images of the outing with Andrew flooded her memory. She remembered the feel of his lips on hers, his tongue gently probing, seeking, almost asking. She smiled recalling his gentleness, his gallantry. These were the traits that had instantly attracted her to him, and she knew he would carry them into his lovemaking. She wondered what it would be like to be loved by such a caring man, and warmth seeped through her as her imagination wandered. Andrew did not reject her because of her looks or her political views, of that she was certain. He was too kind, and his love for her was evident every time their eyes met. Whatever was blocking his approaching her again needed to be faced, and she would probably have to initiate that discussion.
• • •
Silence filled the room as each grappled with Deidre’s revelation. Suddenly clear-headed, Emily strode to her and slapped her soundly across the face.
“How dare you say such a horrid thing,” she cried, her eyes stormy, her fists balled and ready to strike again. Jonathon reached out and gently pulled her back.
“Let me go, Jonathon, she has no right to accuse you of such infidelity!” She glanced up and saw David’s horrified look, and turned to Jonathon in rage.
“Jonathon, how dare you allow her to slander you like that! She surely must leave Brentwood Manor now!” Emily trembled with fury.
Jonathon’s insides curdled as he faced this dreaded moment. It was not the way he had intended to tell Emily, but there was no use in attempting to lie now. Looking at Deidre, anger flowed through him like a tempest, and a red heat seared his brain as he fought to control his emotions. Seething, he drew Emily behind him and stood directly in front of Deidre.
“You whore,” he spat. “You intend to destroy all that I love, all that is good in my life.”
Stung by his words at first, Deidre recovered and straightened, raising her chin in defiance. Triumph gleamed in her eyes.
“I bear your child, Jonathon. Did you not tell your wife about making love to me in your secret cabin?”
The British cat-o’-nine-tails that had ripped his flesh did not cause him as much pain as Deidre’s words. He felt cut through, sliced with the blade of the truth. Emily pushed him aside ready to do battle with her, but Jonathon caught her, restraining her.
“Jonathon, make her stop saying such horrid things! Make her stop!” Emily cried out.
Jonathon turned to her and watched her eyes change from stormy anger to shocked realization and finally to profound sadness.
“Emily,” he said.
“No,” she screamed. “No, no, no!” She held her hands over her ears, squeezing her eyes shut.
The color had washed from her face and he caught her as she slumped toward the floor. Gently lifting her, he buried his face in her hair whispering, “I am so sorry, my love.” He laid her on the settee and turned back to Deidre.
“Are you satisfied, you bitch?” he growled at her.
“Careful, Darling, you are speaking to the mother of your child,” she smiled.
Anger roiled within Jonathon’s gut, and he felt the blood coursing throughout his body, throbbing at his temple. Never in his life had he felt like striking a woman as he did at that moment, but Deidre would not drag him into her world of evil; she had done that to him once. He clenched and unclenched his fists feeling a need to move, to shout, to release the fury that surged within him. Pacing the length of the room, he scrubbed his fingers through his hair.
“One thing you need to consider, Jonathon, is that if Emily bears a girl and I bear a son, my child will be heir to Brentwood Manor, so not only do I carry your child, I may carry your heir.” Deidre’s voice was soft and low as if she were speaking to a young child. She smiled and moved toward him. “This is how it was always meant to be, Jonathon.”
She reached out to him and he recoiled from her touch. Sorrow and shame etched his face in deep lines and dulled his eyes. Wiping his hand across his face, he looked from David to Joanna. His sister looked at him with confusion, slightly shaking her head in disbelief. He turned back to Deidre.
“Is this what you wanted, Deidre? To destroy my life? To destroy Emily?” he asked.
“I wanted us to be together as we were meant to be, Darling,” she purred.
Fear gripped Jonathon at the incongruous sound of her voice. Surely she realized the utter havoc she had wreaked tonight, yet she seemed to live in a dream world. He looked again at David and saw concern creasing his brow as well.
David stepped towards Deidre.
“You must leave Brentwood Manor, especially now, Deidre. I will travel to Williamsburg tomorrow to make arrangements for you,” David said.
“Oh, but no, David, dear. Now more than ever I must remain at Brentwood Manor for I may carry the heir. Surely Jonathon would want the mother of his child to be taken care of properly. Is that not correct, Jonathon, darling?” Smiling, she looked at him.
Jonathon slumped into a chair. He leaned forward and held his head in his hands, his voice barely audible.
“She is right, David. My God, she is right.”
Joanna ran to her brother, kneeling beside him.
“No, Jonathon! She can be taken care of very well in Williamsburg. It would horrible if Emily were forced to see her every day. Please, Jonathon, let David make other arrangements for her,” his sister pleaded. She took his hands from his face and forced him to look at her, but he simply shook his head.
“Like it or not, Deidre is correct. She may carry the heir to Brentwood Manor. She must remain here.” He turned and looked at the woman. “But I warn you, Deidre, if you harm Emily, you will pay with your life.” His eyes bored into hers.
Joanna stood and approached the woman, still haughty, still defiant.
“God help you, Deidre, for those who play with fire often get burned.”
Emily moaned and stirred. Jonathon went to her, but Joanna pushed him aside.
“I think it is best if she does not see you at present. Allow her some time to consider all that has occurred,” she said.
Jonathon strode to Deidre, thrusting his face close to hers.
“Listen to me, you whore. I never made love to you. You know what happened in that cabin, and love had no part in it. Even your promise is obscene. You sicken me.”
Deidre shrank back, her eyes pleading, shoulders hunched forward.
“Please do not be angry with me, Jonathon. I only acted out of love for you.” Her voice was childlike, high-pitched and sing-song. Jonathon scowled at her, but unease shifted in his gut. There was a nightmarish feeling to her reaction which mingled fear with his anger.
As he turned, his eyes found Emily’s. She was now alert and sitting up. His heart melted with regret and despair as he saw the overwhelming misery in her eyes. She looked away.
“Deidre, you are to stay in the east wing of the manor. Your meals will be brought up to you, and when you venture outside, you are to avoid the terrace,” he said, his face strained. He turned and looked at her squarely in the eye. “And do not ever, ever go near my wife. Do you understand what I am saying?”
“Yes, Jonathon,” she replied, looking to the floor.
David approached her taking her by the elbow. “Come with me, Deidre,” he said leading her toward the parlor door. No one moved as the sound of their footsteps echoed across the marble hall and faded as they climbed the staircase.
Turning, Jonathon looked at Emily.
“Emily—,” he began.
“No, Jonathon. Please do not speak to me. Please do not come near me, not now, not ever! How could you do this? You have destroyed our love! You bastard!” Shakily she tried to stand, teetered for a moment, and then stood erect. Nodding to Joanna, she took her arm, leaned on her, and keeping her eyes downcast, moved past him and headed toward the parlor door.
Standing helplessly alone, Jonathon became aware of the evening sounds through the open terrace door. How could nature continue as if nothing had happened when his whole life had just crumbled before him? How could crickets sing when his wife would not look at him? Why did the stars cast light on a world gone dead? Despair filled him. How had it come to this? In his attempt to protect and save her, he had lost the love of his life. No battle he had fought, no storm he had conquered, no sorrow he had felt had ever carved him out inside as losing his beloved Emily had.
• • •
Emily lay on her back looking at the canopy above her. Her eyes traced the silken stripes that shimmered in the flickering candlelight. Shock had prevented tears from falling; she felt lifeless and empty. Her ears still rang with Deidre’s words: I carry your child, Jonathon. As if it were smoke that she could not grasp and keep, the meaning of those words eluded her one minute and attacked her the next. She draped an arm across her eyes attempting to block the images that swirled in her mind, but the confirmation of Deidre’s accusation in Jonathon’s eyes could not be denied. She saw his anguish, his guilt and his shame and it gripped her and tore at her heart.
How long she had waited to see her husband, to hear his voice and feel his embrace. Upon seeing him, her joy made her heart leap, and the subsequent events dashed it to the depths of despair. A moan escaped her lips, deep and feral. How could this be? How could he have made love to Deidre?
She rolled over and gripped her pillow as, at last, the tears began to flow. Sobs racked her body and she shuddered as she gasped for breath between each. The baby, who had been quiet through the evening, stirred and stretched which normally would bring a smile to Emily’s face. He began kicking and moving in protest to her quivering body, as if to announce his distress at her despair. She massaged her belly drawing strength from the life within, demanding to be noticed. But she was not the only one who felt life created by Jonathon. He had betrayed her, had given himself to another, to his former lover. Yes, Deidre had won.
She dug her fists into her eyes trying to black out the image of them lying together. Did he whisper tenderly in her ear while he embraced her? Did he have a special name reserved only for her? Did he hold Deidre after their lovemaking as he had her?
“Aaaahhhh!” she cried out unable to contain her misery any longer. “Oh, please, dear God, make this just a dream. Please take away this pain! Oh, God help me!” she cried into the pillow. Her hand touched something; she pulled it out from beneath her pillow—Jonathon’s shirt. All the nights it had brought her comfort . . . was he lying with Deidre while she clutched only his shirt? She hurled it across the room and broke down sobbing once more.
There was a tap at her door. She braced herself for Jonathon’s entrance.
• • •
Jonathon stared blankly into the fire. The evening could not have gone worse; his moment to tell Emily could not have been couched in crueler circumstances. How she must hate him, and he did not blame her. He had felt like striking Deidre this evening, a rage such as he had never felt before. What had become of him? What had she turned him into? A violent monster? But she had robbed him of every good and sacred thing in his life; everything she touched turned foul.
He recalled her revelation about Robert Manning’s death and how repulsed he had been. Surely he should have realized that no matter what he had done that afternoon, her intention was to harm—no, to kill Emily and their child. Recalling her strange behavior this evening, he was convinced she was going mad.
David entered the parlor and sat across from him. Leaning forward, he patted Jonathon’s shoulder and then stood.
“You need a good, stiff drink, Jonathon,” he said. “I do not think things could have been any worse than what transpired here this evening.”
Jonathon snorted. “You have read my mind, David.”
Returning with two crystal glasses, David handed one to Jonathon and held his up for a toast.
“To you, my friend, for attempting to protect your wife and child.” He clinked his glass against Jonathon’s.
Ruefully, Jonathon looked at his brother-in-law then into the brandy that he sloshed around the glass. He took a long pull of the liquid, and released breath fiery with the drink.
“I thought she would be safe, David,” he said softly.
“Who knew what Deidre was capable of, Jonathon?”
“When she came to the cabin that day, I was still weak, unable to leave the bed for any length of time. She surprised me when she arrived—I almost shot her thinking she was a British scout. Now, I wish I had.” He paused and took another drink. “She had seduction on her mind; she knew exactly what she would do . . . ”
“Jonathon, you do not have to tell me this. You do not have to relive it,” David said.
“No, please, David, let me explain it. Perhaps in the telling, I will find a way to forgive myself. She teased, she stripped, I could not control my reaction, my response. That made her even more intent on completing the mission she had set out for that afternoon. She climbed over me, and, my God, David, I could not control myself. I was like a damn rutting stag and once she began to ride me, I responded in kind . . . ” Jonathon’s voice broke and he began to sob. “I was unfaithful to Emily and I will never forgive myself let alone expect her to forgive me.”
David stood and put his hand on Jonathon’s shoulder. The ticking of the parlor clock was all that broke the silence. Finally, David sat across from Jonathon again.
“David, she killed Robert. She drugged him and pushed him over the side of his boat,” Jonathon’s eyes were intense, burning with rage. “As I related in the letter I sent to you, she threatened Emily’s life and the life of our child if I did not lie with her. I thought they would be safe, but fear gripped me throughout my time away. I had to return, to see for myself that Emily was safe, and when I heard what happened today—I hate that I cannot be here to protect her.” He dropped his head in his hands and wept again.
“Tell her, Jonathon. Explain to her as you have to me,” David said.
“She does not want to be near me. How can I get her to listen? And if I told her, would she live in fear, a prisoner in her own home? And, David, what if our child is a girl? And what if Deidre bears a son? Oh, this is a disaster!”
Outside, the sound of hoof beats signaled an approaching rider. Jonathon looked around wildly.
“That is probably Andrew returning from Stephen Alcott’s,” David said.
Jonathon spoke quickly. “David, I will contact you as soon as I am able. I must leave and travel through the night.” Jonathon leaned alongside the window and peeked out. “David, I promised Emily that I would be here when our child was born, and I vow I will keep that promise. Please, protect her. Keep Deidre away from her. Oh, God, I do not want to leave her.”
“Jonathon, you must get away quickly. If you are captured, you will be no good to Emily. I will talk to her, try to make her understand what happened. She loves you, Jonathon, you must trust her.”
Jonathon looked at his brother-in-law, his eyes clearer, hope a small flame within his heart.
“Thank you, David.”
The men stood and clasped each other, patting each other on the back.
“Godspeed, Jonathon,” David whispered as Jonathon slipped out the terrace doors and disappeared into the night.
• • •
“Come in,” Emily called softly and sat up in her bed. Bracing herself for an encounter with Jonathon, she was both relieved and disappointed when Joanna entered her bedroom. She carried a tray of tea to the nightstand and set it down.
“I suspected you might still be awake, Emily,” she smiled tenderly noting her sister-in-law’s red, puffy eyes.
“Joanna, I—,” Emily began.
“Hush, Em. You have had a very traumatic day. You need to rest and stay well for your baby,” Joanna said as she poured tea into the delicate porcelain cups. She handed one to Emily and then sat beside her on the bed. Emily sipped hers and a brief smile crossed her face.
“Is this your special blend of tea, Joanna?” she asked.
“Let us just say it will help you sleep,” she chuckled.
Emily’s fleeting smile was replaced with a somber look as she gazed at the liquid in her cup.
“Joanna, what am I to do? How can this be true? How could Jonathon . . . I do not even know what to think right now; my world has been turned upside down.” Tears burned her eyes, brimming then streaming down her face unchecked. “How can this be possible? Jonathon and . . . and . . . she? How could he betray me like this?”
Joanna stood and crossed to the window watching Andrew arrive at the stables. She pressed her forehead against the glass pane and shrugged her shoulders.
“I have no answer for you, Emily, for I do not know what transpired. My brother is not this kind of man; I cannot believe he intentionally hurt you like this,” she said.
“Well, I do not know how it could be unintentional,” Emily sniffed.
“You will need to talk to him, Emily, to hear him out.”
“I do not want to be near him,” Emily said curtly.
“Then you will never learn his side of the story, Em,” Joanna said gently.
Turning to place her empty cup on the nightstand, Emily looked at Joanna.
“Perhaps learning his side of the story would only bring more pain, Joanna. What if he loves her? What if she predicted the truth? That Jonathon got tired of a ‘child’ and needed a real woman? What if he loved her all along and merely felt sorry for taking me from my home? What if—.” Her voice had risen in pitch at each question, and now the tears flowed freely. Joanna hurried to her bedside and took the trembling girl into her arms. Emily laid her head on Joanna’s shoulder and yielded to sobs that shook her whole being. Joanna rubbed her back and stroked her hair.
“I am so sorry this ever happened, Emily. But I know one thing for certain: Jonathon loves only you. He risked his life tonight to come to you. I do not know what occurred between them, but I suspect it had nothing to do with love,” Joanna said.
Emily’s sobs subsided, but her trembling continued. Joanna helped her lie back on the pillows and tucked the counterpane around her despite the warmth of the night. She brushed a stray curl from her eyes and kissed her forehead. Seeing the heaviness of Emily’s eyelids, she lowered the wick on the oil lamp and placed her cup and saucer on the tray. When she looked back at her, Emily was asleep. She sat beside her for a while, then feeling the effects of the brandy-laced tea, she rose and headed for her own bed.
• • •
Andrew dismounted and led Neptune into his stall. Sweat gleamed off the ebony horse, evidence of their ambitious ride, and Andrew patted his flank in gratitude.
“Nicely, done, Neptune. You are truly the finest horse in the colonies,” he murmured, feeding the horse some oats. Neptune nickered and tossed his head trying to move out of his stall.
“Yes, he is,” a voice answered from the shadows. Startled, Andrew reached for his pistol as he turned and peered toward the sound. Neptune neighed and trotted toward the voice. As Jonathon emerged, Andrew replaced his pistol and smiling broadly, hugged him.
“Jonathon, how good to see you so well.” He stood back and looked closer. “However, I see a heavy weight bears you down this night.”
“Andrew, much has transpired, but I must let David inform you of it. British troops have been pursuing me since I left Yorktown, and I must be away quickly. If they suspect I was here, it will put all of you in grave danger.”
“Then be off, Jonathon. Neptune has brought me swiftly from the Alcott Plantation where there is great news of movement toward independence from Britain, but your horse has many more miles left in him before he rests.” He laughed observing Neptune’s obvious pleasure at being with Jonathon. “I believe you have given him his second wind.”
Jonathon mounted and turned to Andrew, his eyes dark with sadness.
“Andrew, you must see to your sister’s safety. She is in great peril, and I entrust her to you and to Joanna and David’s care. He will explain.” With that, Jonathon nudged Neptune and horse and rider rode seamlessly into the night.
• • •
Noticing a light burning in the parlor, Andrew peeked around the door to see David staring out at the night. Andrew saw how fatigued he looked as he entered and sat across from him.
“I have just seen Jonathon,” Andrew said quietly.
Pulled back from his reverie, David looked at him and sat up.
“He said that Emily is in danger and that you would explain everything to me.”
“It has been a long and difficult day, Andrew. We discovered the cause of Emily’s illness today and it seems there were other . . . uh . . . difficulties . . . ”
Andrew caught his breath.
“No, not complications with Emily or the baby, rather, other problems.
“Emily is all right, then?” Andrew asked looking toward the staircase.
“Emily and the baby are healthy and safe . . . ” David said weighing his words. “I believe she is asleep now.”
Andrew nodded, satisfied that he could wait to check on his sister until the morning.
David brushed his hand over his face. Looking at Andrew, he realized that he was no longer a child, but a man who deserved to know the facts, all of the facts, that surrounded his sister’s close brush with death.
“Andrew, pour us each a brandy and have a seat.”
David explained the events of the day and what had occurred between Jonathon and Deidre to cause such misery. A cold lump settled in Andrew’s gut as he listened carefully and recognized clearly what Deidre was about. And he had almost participated in her devious plans. He winced as he realized what effect this news must have had on Emily, and what effect it would have had on Jenny had he complied with Deidre’s offer. He shuddered as he comprehended how fortunate he had been to avoid Deidre, and rage burned within him at the thought of his sister’s close call.
“She will not come near my sister,” he vowed.
“She has been banished to the east wing of the manor, and to grounds away from the terrace so to prevent any encounter with Emily,” David explained.
“Is that enough? We cannot trust her,” Andrew argued. Rising he snatched the poker and stabbed at the cold logs in the hearth sending one rolling impotently onto the floor. “She must leave Brentwood Manor!”
“Yes, we believed that, too, but if she carries a son and Emily a daughter, she will bear the heir to Brentwood Manor. Jonathon insisted she stay here, as would be expected,” David said quietly. The parlor clock ticked loudly in the still night as Andrew digested this information. Letting out a deep breath, he returned to his seat. This night had not evolved as he had anticipated as he urged Neptune along the roads. This would require much contemplation. Expecting to find serenity at home, Andrew instead had found personal danger to rival what the patriots faced in Williamsburg. And while his family was of utmost importance, he realized that the larger cause of freedom and the spirit that inspired people to risk their lives to attain it demanded their attention as well. Finally, he leaned forward.
“David, I have news from Williamsburg,” Andrew whispered excitedly.
“What news, Drew?” he asked.
“The Virginia Convention has adopted the Declaration of Rights, David. Jefferson is drafting an explanation of our quest for independence to be sent to Great Britain. Williamsburg is abuzz with talk of war, of being free from the constraints—no the chains—of Parliament,” Andrew’s words tumbled out. He had ridden so far and waited so long to share such exciting news, and yet David seemed a bit reticent. “They want you to go to Williamsburg to join the debates and discussions, David.”
David looked down at his empty brandy glass. “I am not sure I can leave Brentwood Manor at present, Andrew,” he murmured. Despondency filled his eyes as he looked up at the younger man.
“You must go, David. They are depending on your guidance and your leadership. I will remain at Brentwood Manor to ensure Emily’s safety. Believe me, the hounds of hell could not get to her if I can help it.” Andrew’s jaw clenched and his hand tightened around his glass.
David reached out and clapped his shoulder. “You are a good man, Andrew,” he smiled.
Andrew warmed at his compliment, especially since he used the word, “man.” Yes, Andrew thought I am a man. Fully capable of protecting my sister, and fully capable of presenting myself to Jenny and proclaiming my love to her.
David rose and wiped a hand across his eyes. “It will all need to be sorted out, but that must be left for another day for I am weary and in need of my bed,” he said. “Thank you for taking on the responsibility of communications with Williamsburg. You have done exceptionally well, Andrew,” David said, smiling at him. “Let us retire, for tomorrow may hold some interesting possibilities.”
They climbed the stairs, and as he turned toward his room, Andrew glanced down the hallway toward Jenny’s room. No light shone beneath the doorframe. He shrugged and entered his bedroom.