“You’re lucky I didn’t turn you over to Bacon, considering the unkind things you’ve said of me.” Latimer ceased his pacing and turned to look at Sir William. Disbelief and incredulity merged in his mind as he regarded the governor. Surely, the man had more important things to consider. “I’ve heard how you’ve spread dissention at muster. Torrence says they’re calling you the Bacon of Surry County.”
“That is Willshire’s uninformed opinion—no one else’s.”
“Will you also deny the reports that you’ve labeled me an old, doddering fool, incapable of decisive action? Tell me, Latimer, do you fancy yourself more capable of governing this colony?”
Latimer looked closely at the man he’d once admired and respected. Reports were filtering in hourly that Bacon’s lieutenant, Rookings, and a multitude of armed rebels had invaded Surry County. Tortured with worry over Ceressa and April, Latimer felt no need to respond to such an idiotic question.
He didn’t wait to hear another word, nor did he request permission to depart. Striding from the office, he let himself out then slammed the door, bringing to attention the guards that were positioned in the hall of the State House. They trained their matchlocks upon him, which added to his fury.
Heedless of the danger, he shoved the weapons aside in order to make his way past them. It was a relief to leave the building, breathing in fresh air as he attempted to clear his head of the worry that was now his constant companion. A number of men had gathered, but rather than recount his fruitless visit with the governor, he skirted the group, hoping to locate Bengie. Failing to find the man, he turned his steps toward the long, low structure serving as the ale house, for the town’s ordinaries were no longer servicing patrons.
Latimer stomped within, his gaze sweeping the interior filled with men bored and restless thanks to the stalemate with Bacon. There seemed to be no place to sit where he could privately sort out his thoughts, so he started to leave until someone called his name. Seeking the source, he was surprised and suspicious when he spied Torrence Willshire dressed in the same rough garb he’d been in that day he’d brought the governor’s message to Tidelands. It was hard to believe Willshire had put aside the brocades and velvets, Latimer thought humorlessly, as well as that monstrous wig. Automatically, he gripped the hilt of his sword as he came to a stop before the man.
“What do you want?” He was more than ready for a fight. Just seeing Willshire and recalling the esteem in which Ceressa now held him, he could be easily pushed to the brink. Jealousy was tearing him apart, its talons sinking deeply.
“Why don’t you sit down and have something to drink? You look far too fierce, Latimer. Not still holding a grudge, I hope.”
“You know it’s not a grudge I hold. It’s a need for vindication.”
“So you’re still awaiting an apology. All right, then. I’m sorry.”
Latimer stared at Willshire as though he had lost his mind. After seven years and countless hours spent detesting this man, Willshire now decided to apologize? Latimer wasn’t sure he’d heard aright. “What?”
“I said I’m sorry. Isn’t that what a Christian is supposed to do when he realizes he’s wrong? Believe it or not, I’m still in possession of a Bible. The events of recent weeks have reminded me of my mortality, so I’ve been delving a bit into our Lord’s promises. I know I’ve lived selfishly and dishonorably. But I also know I’m forgiven. Now I ask you to forgive me. It wasn’t coincidence that brought us both to James Cittie. I’m tired of the old battle. I’m not invincible and neither are you. But do we really want to kill each other because of jealousy and pride? Don’t look so surprised, Latimer. You know I’ve always been jealous of you—it goes back to our boyhood. And now you’re jealous of me because you think I covet your wife. Well, I don’t. I wouldn’t want to be married to a woman who, I have heard, is as skilled with a sword as any man.”
Latimer dropped into the chair across from Torrence.
“I would live in constant fear of angering her.”
“My life changed because of what happened at the university.”
“It only changed because you let it. You chose to wallow in self-pity. It drove you away from Sir Geoffrey. It might deprive you of the one thing I know you value more than Tidelands.”
Ceressa. Torrence was right. So many times, he’d let anger and pride and stubbornness keep him from embracing the full gift of love that God had placed in his life that unforgettable night at the Red Rose Inn. He hadn’t known it then, but deep in his heart, he’d been searching for a true and lasting love all along. Now, he was perilously close to losing it.
“I guess you’re as ready for the fight as the rest of us. If Sir William doesn’t give the order soon, Bacon is going to make fools of us all.”
“He’s done that already,” Latimer said.
“As neither of us knows if we’re going to come out of this alive. I was wondering…” Torrence’s voice trailed off.
“Wondering about what?”
“I know you saw Ceressa with me that morning when you left James Cittie. Did you know she gave me a letter to mail to your uncle?” Latimer fisted his hands upon the table as he met Torrence’s gaze. For possibly the first time in his life, the man wasn’t grinning smugly. Latimer felt as though his lungs had been denied air, for it was suddenly hard to breathe. Or was it the heat within the establishment that made him feel as though he’d fallen into an oven?
“I didn’t know.” It was difficult for Latimer to speak. Ceressa had gone behind his back, lied to him, deceived him. He felt as though he was splintering into a thousand shards.
“I did one of those dishonorable things. I read the letter.”
“What did she write to my fa—uncle?”
“You should know. You’re the one that saved her from the mob that was trying to hang her. There was something else she wrote that I thought you should know. She told your uncle that she was safe and well and that she truly loved you. She only hoped that one day you would forgive her for forcing you to marry her.”
Latimer’s gaze fixed upon Torrence’s. There was neither malice nor hatred in his eyes. In that moment, Latimer’s old anger ebbed; his obsession to be avenged and inflict retribution erased. “I thought you should know that.”
“Thank you.”
Torrence grinned then suddenly grew pensive as he lowered his eyes. “Have you any news from Carrumont?” He traced the rim of the empty tankard he clutched in one hand.
“Bartholomew is well, or he was up until I left.”
“I tried to see Phyllis a few days ago but was told she wasn’t in residence. The housekeeper wouldn’t tell me where she is. Could she be ill?”
“No. She’s in Norfolk County. Bartholomew was so distressed and angered by Phyllis’s attempts to humiliate and frighten Ceressa, he sent her to his wife’s cousin to rethink her life’s direction. The cousin is a minister of a church somewhere near a place called the Dismal Swamp.”
“I’m glad she’s away from all of this. You may not realize it, but—”
“You’re in love with Phyllis,” Latimer finished for him. “You say that I’ve gotten more than I bargained for, but I assure you, marrying Phyllis will bring you more headache than bliss. However, if anyone can handle her, I’m sure it’s you.”
“I despair of ever winning her heart. Especially when she fancies herself in love with you.”
“She doesn’t love me. She merely wants what she can’t have. Surely, you know that by now.”
“Women,” Torrence growled.
Latimer laughed. What in the world had just happened? Here he sat with Torrence Willshire, and for once he didn’t want to run him through with his sword. Thank You, Lord. Thank You. Ceressa was in truth a gift from God because she had miraculously brought this healing to him. She was his love, his life, and his wellspring of all that was good and true. Now, she was alone at Tidelands and might at any moment be threatened by another enemy more deadly than Charles Herrington. Latimer stood. Torrence looked up at him questioningly. If Bacon was to be stopped, it was now. More than anything, he wanted Ceressa in his arms; he wanted to tell her again how much he loved her and needed her—how grateful he was to God that he’d been the one chosen to rescue her.
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m going back to Tidelands. I’ll wage my fight with Bacon another day.” Torrence stood and extended his hand. Latimer accepted it without hesitation.
“And I think I’ll make another trip, this time to Norfolk County. Perhaps a certain young woman might enjoy seeing a familiar face.”
“Take care. May God protect you.”
“And you.” Torrence laid a coin on the table then turned away.
Latimer started to follow him from the crowded tavern but paused when a man bumped into him, his eyes wild and his manner frantic. Latimer pulled out his pistol in the event this individual proved to be a threat, wondering if he was drunk. The man staggered a few steps further until someone offered him a chair. He collapsed upon it and rested his shaking hands on his knees. Latimer now recognized the man as a secretary of the governor’s.
“Tragedy has struck,” the man gasped. His words would have been humorously dramatic had the man not been so obviously distraught.
“Tell us, man, and be quick,” someone shouted.
“It’s Bacon. He’s set women upon the ramparts to keep the men from obeying the governor’s order to fire.”
“What are you saying?” Latimer quickly crossed over to the man who still visibly quaked. He looked up at Latimer, terror etched in his reddened eyes.
“I said there…there are women on the ramparts.”
“Who—what women?”
The man trembled more. Latimer knew he had bellowed, but he couldn’t help it.
“Tell me!” It took everything within him to keep from shaking the man. He dreaded the words he expected the man to utter.
“The wife of the auditor general; Elizabeth Page; Anna Ballard; several planters’ wives and…” The man grew paler while his hesitation was drowned by the thud of Latimer’s heart.
“Who else?” Latimer lost his battle to control his temper and took hold of the front of the man’s coat, dragging him out of his chair and close to his face.
“Lady Kirkleigh and your niece.”