Ceressa knew, without a doubt, that she had suffered through the worst night of her life, worse even than the night Charles Herrington had lured her to the Red Rose Inn. After Latimer’s fierce reaction to her request to write Sir Geoffrey, one angry comment had led to another until he’d called her a shrew and she’d labeled him a brute. Soon after, he’d stomped from the chamber and had left the property. He didn’t put in an appearance at dinner, and a deep fear had wiggled into her consciousness that he’d sought Phyllis Carruthers for comfort.
Ceressa had no idea if he’d returned, for though she’d tossed and turned for what seemed hours while a storm battering the cottage made enough noise to rouse the dead, weariness had finally overtaken her. But for all that, she was alert enough to notice Mariette’s distraction as the girl brushed her hair the following morning.
“Is something amiss, Mariette?” Ceressa asked, determined to rouse herself from her distress and think of someone other than herself. Ceressa looked at Mariette in the looking glass and noticed that a becoming blush tinted the girl’s cheeks.
“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. I was wondering, though, what your thoughts of Mr. Harrell might be.”
“I find him most agreeable and considerate. Why do you ask?”
“Mistress Ceressa, when he looks at me—oh, I’m being silly.” Mariette was clearly embarrassed, but Ceressa was honored that the young woman would speak to her of so personal a matter.
“No sillier than all the other women in this world,” Ceressa said and turned about in her seat so that she could look at Mariette. “In a span of a few hours I married a man practically a stranger. Now, that is pure folly.”
“The circumstances were most extenuating.”
“I fear I made the wrong choice.” Ceressa came to her feet, unnerved and agitated as she twisted her hands together. Pacing the chamber, she knew she should let Mariette finish her hair and help her dress for she didn’t want to delay Latimer’s departure to the State House. But what if he wasn’t downstairs awaiting her? What if he was with Phyllis? How could so nice a man as Bartholomew have such a snake for a daughter?
“You did what you thought best at the time.”
“I failed my parents,” Ceressa said and barely restrained a sob. “I have to find out what happened to them. I need to write to Sir Geoffrey.”
“Ah, good morning, Lord Kirkleigh,” came Mariette’s unsteady greeting.
Ceressa turned about quickly with a gasp. How had Latimer managed to slip in without either of them hearing?
“You may leave us,” he firmly informed Mariette, who curtsied and hurried away, closing the door behind her. Ceressa immediately turned her back to him, fighting the urge to ask where he’d passed the night. Taking her seat before the dressing table, she picked up the brush and ran it viciously through her hair, willing away the angry words and threatening tears that warred for control of her emotions. Latimer appeared behind her in the looking glass, already fully clothed and apparently ready to be on his way. She’d tarried overlong with her toilette and was still wrapped in her dressing gown
“I hope you slept well last night.” Latimer spoke with amazing calm.
“I didn’t.”
“Nor did I. The straw in the stable hardly makes for a good mattress.”
Joy flooded her soul, but she couldn’t let Latimer know. Concentrating on her brushing, she ran the bristles through with such force, she feared she might be taking out bits of her scalp.
“If you continue to brush your hair in such a manner, you may be bald.”
In frustration, Ceressa dropped the brush on the vanity with a jarring clatter and turned around to face him. “I’ll never be dressed in time if you keep interrupting me.”
“Then I shall await your arrival downstairs.” He wasted no time in taking his leave, punctuated by heavy stomps as he went down the stairs. Oh, Father in Heaven. What am I to do? How can I make things right? How will I ever learn what happened to my parents? Dropping her head in her hands, Ceressa lost her battle against the tears, and they trickled down her face.
****
It was a relief to be out of the State House, and Ceressa was grateful for the recess after three hours of listening to the endless talk of pompous men who simply liked to hear themselves orate and opine. It had been torture sitting there watching, her gaze constantly drawn to Latimer. Even though she still smarted from their angry exchange, she couldn’t quell the emotions he aroused.
After the session closed, Latimer was cornered by several of his Surry County acquaintances so she slipped away unnoticed. The thunderstorm from the night before had left the sky a cloudless blue and the air slightly cooler. Walking over to a clump of trees, Ceressa noticed a woman holding a babe while two little girls romped about her. A slight smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she watched the tireless play of the two as they chased one another. As luck would have it, they chose that precise moment to bolt headlong into Torrence Willshire. The irritated man uttered an oath and caught each child roughly by the backs of their smocks. Horrified by his actions, Ceressa ran to them, the mother doing the same but moving much slower, burdened by the babe she carried and a few pounds Ceressa didn’t have.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ceressa demanded. “Release those children.”
Willshire turned upon her, his eyes dark and angry. “What concern is it of yours what I do with these whelps? They nearly knocked me down.”
“And I’m sure you would have been seriously injured if they had,” Ceressa said sarcastically, planting her hands on her hips. Unexpectedly, Willshire gave her a smile and released the children. They quickly scampered off and hid behind their mother, burrowing into the folds of the woman’s skirt.
“That’s not the issue. Those urchins need discipline.”
“I’ll beg ye pardon, me fine sir,” the young mother spoke up indignantly. “Me girls receive their fair share o’ discipline.”
“Perhaps I have erred, madam, as the good Lady Kirkleigh has pointed out. How could I have mistaken such boisterous behavior as anything but innocent fun?” The smile was still on his face as he shifted his attention to Ceressa. She knew she should be insulted by his mischievous manner, but he suddenly seemed almost charming. “No harm done.”
The woman nodded stiffly, then looked over at Ceressa and gave her a warm smile. “Thank ye, milady.” She turned about and marched away, scolding the little girls as they hurried along.
“You shouldn’t take offense so easily, Mr. Willshire,” Ceressa said. “If this is your reaction to so minor an incident, I would hate to see your handling of a more serious affront with someone more of an equal.” Instinctively, Willshire reached up to the bruise beneath his eye, the one given him by Latimer. Ceressa couldn’t resist a sly smile.
“How can I argue with so beautiful a lady? Perhaps you have a point. Were my presence not required by Sir William I might enter into a discussion with you. But, alas, duty calls. Rest assured I shall take your comment under advisement. Good day, Lady Kirkleigh.” He smiled again, swept off his overdone hat as he bowed, then straightened and strode away.
Drawing a deep breath, Ceressa walked over to a bench shaded by a tree when she noticed the woman with the three children talking to Latimer and pointing to her. She certainly hoped the woman didn’t think her actions forward or rude. She’d only been trying to help. After squeezing the woman’s hand and tousling the heads of the two girls, Latimer left the woman and turned his steps toward her. I’ve done something else wrong, Lord. I’m sure of it.
“You’ve made a new friend,” Latimer said and smiled. Genuinely smiled. No smirk, no sneer, no bitter twist—a real smile.
“I…have?”
“You just rescued Madelaine Henrys’s two little girls. I sold some land to her husband, Davis, a few years back when the oldest child was about two and Madelaine was heavy with the second. Davis is a good man, but recently he involved himself with a Surry group protesting the increase in the county’s taxes. The governor justified the increase by claiming the funds were needed for building forts and rearming the militia to ward off the Indians and the Dutch. But the Indians continued to attack, and the Dutch were so bold as to sail up the James and burn ships destined for English ports. When Davis and the others met at Smith’s Fort, they were arrested and fined.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Each man was tried and sentenced as rioters.”
“But Mr. Henrys didn’t hang, did he?”
“If he did, he’s looking well indeed for a dead man. He’s in attendance at the session today.”
Relief swept Ceressa. The thought of that young woman alone in this hostile land with three small children was unthinkable.
“I’m so thankful. How did he obtain his freedom?”
“Someone paid his fine and that of the other men. Money speaks as powerfully here as in England.”
“What a blessing. What a kind, compassionate soul is that individual. Do you know who it was?”
“I’ve a brief acquaintance with him,” Latimer replied evasively.
She strongly suspected he was the generous benefactor.
“I was wondering if you wished to return with me to the session. If not, I could have Bengie walk you back to the cottage.”
The choice to leave might have been welcome a few minutes earlier, but now she wanted to be with Latimer. “I’ll go with you. I wouldn’t want to miss anything.”
He laughed then offered his arm. Laying her hand upon it, she realized he hadn’t mentioned her confrontation with Torrence Willshire. Perhaps Mrs. Henrys had neglected to share that bit.
“By the way, your conversation with Willshire was remarked upon by several.”
Ceressa groaned inwardly. She had feared this moment. “I see.”
“One observer went so far as to say he’d never seen anyone, man or woman, stand up to Willshire with such spirit. I fear one blackened eye is not going to keep Willshire away from you.”
“He won’t intimidate me. And I don’t want you fighting him any more.”
“Nevertheless, I’ll keep an eye on you. It’s my prerogative as your husband.”
Odd, Ceressa thought, but she liked knowing Latimer was watching over her, aiding her heavenly Father who watched over her from above.