Chapter Thirty-Five

Sometime in the deep of the night, Aaron awakened. It took him a moment to realize he was not in his own chamber, but in Hannah’s. He smiled as he looked at the sleeping face of the woman beside him, her bright hair glowing in the moonlight. Someday, he thought, he might be able to get through a night without making love to her…but not yet.

He kissed her gently and then rose and walked into the courtyard. He was surprised at his own wakefulness, for he usually slept well. But his senses felt alert and watchful, as though something he could neither see nor hear was abroad in the still night.

He told himself not to be fanciful. Leaving the courtyard, he lit a candle and strolled through the house to the kitchen. He would drink a glass of the fresh juice Annie prepared each day from the fruits in the kitchen garden.

As soon as Aaron entered the shadowy kitchen, he knew he was not alone. His pause was only momentary; instinct made him realize that he must feign ignorance. Making certain he didn’t turn his back toward the dark far end of the room, Aaron set down the candle and pulled open the pantry door.

What Aaron expected to happen, happened. A dark figure rushed at him and attempted to push him into the pantry. But Aaron was ready. Shooting out his fist, he caught the intruder in the stomach. The man staggered backward and fell, and Aaron leapt toward him.

Caleb rolled to escape Aaron and jumped to his feet. His dagger at the ready, he faced this unknown man whose iron fist had torn into his gut. The pain made him pant as he clenched the dagger for the next attack.

Then suddenly both men heard the sound of soft footsteps. Hannah called “Aaron?” as she entered the kitchen. And Caleb then knew exactly who had struck him—Captain Aaron Clarke!

Aaron shouted, “Hannah, get back!” As Aaron glanced toward her, Caleb jumped at him and seized him by the neck in a grip made inhumanly strong by desperation. He slipped the dagger against Aaron’s throat, drawing blood. Hannah screamed.

“Hannah, go!” Aaron cried, fighting to release himself. He felt the warmth of his own blood as the dagger bit into his neck.

Hannah cried, “No, no! Don’t hurt him!”

Caleb jerked Aaron’s head back and braced himself for a final blow with the knife. But Aaron kicked backward, catching him in the ankle. Caleb lost his balance, and both men tumbled to the floor.

As they struggled for the dagger, Hannah raced into the dark interior of the kitchen, desperately seeking a weapon. She seized an iron skillet and raised it above her head to strike at Caleb. But out of the darkness a hand with a grip of steel clamped her wrist. Crying out, she turned.

Hannah’s cry distracted the battling men on the floor. Caleb leapt to his feet, wanting only to escape. Aaron seized his ankle.

A tall figure stepped into the wavering candlelight. “Stand exactly there, Worth. One small movement and I’ll be only too bloody pleased to shoot you through the heart.”

Aaron stared at the black-clad figure. “Gatwick!”

“Clarke, are you badly injured?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He pulled himself to his feet, and Hannah rushed into his arms. Using her nightdress, she began wiping the blood from his neck.

Gatwick threw down a rope. “Clarke, tie him up.”

Aaron gently disengaged himself from his wife and tied Caleb’s hands behind his back. Gatwick slipped his pistol into his belt and smiled thinly at Aaron.

“What did I tell you, Clarke? Eventually he would find her.”

Gatwick turned toward Hannah, taking in her frightened face and bloody nightdress. He bowed.

“Miss Winstead—or is it Mrs. Clarke? Morrill Gatwick, Scotland Yard, at your service.”

****

Three weeks later Hannah received a letter from Morrill Gatwick, with another letter attached to it. Realizing immediately that the attached letter was the one written to her by her father, Hannah opened it with shaking hands. Aaron sat beside her and they read together:

My dear daughter,

If you are reading this letter, it is because I have passed from life and joined my beloved Cassandra in whatever realm awaits after our toils on earth have ceased. As I write this, I fear the cruel fever that took my precious wife from me will strike me down as well. I’m not accustomed to entertaining gloomy reveries, but I feel frightened, as though a prescient chamber of my mind is aware death is stalking me.

You must not weep for your mother and me, dearest Hannah. Life is filled with uncertainty, but it may also be filled with joy. The love I shared with your mother, and the love we both had for you, gave us more happiness than many people experience throughout long lifetimes. Whatever your fate in life, my dear daughter, always remember love is the greatest gift of all. Do not sacrifice it for worldly concerns.

If you’ve unsealed this letter, it’s because you are eighteen years of age and are claiming your inheritance. I hope you come to adore Highland Plantation as I did.

Your loving father,

Edward Winstead

Hannah folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. “I’m very glad,” she said when able to speak, “Mr. Gatwick thought to look for the letter before he sailed to England.”

“Indeed. This letter is undoubtedly what Godder was looking for when he murdered Lord Earling.”

Hannah sighed. “How sad that some men become so evil. One wonders how a just and merciful God can allow it.”

Aaron pulled her close and held her a few moments. Finally, she sat up, wiped her tears, and retrieved the unread letter from Gatwick.

“Let us see what Mr. Gatwick has to say.”

After a few preliminary paragraphs about finding Edward Winstead’s letter among Caleb Worth’s belongings, Gatwick continued.

It is my duty to inform you, Mrs. Clarke, that Caleb Worth, alias Hargrove Godder, is dead. The circumstances of his demise are as follows:

If you recall, I left Highland with my prisoner at about ten in the morning, driving the gig I had hired the day before. After I had driven a short distance, Worth, who was tightly bound, began to complain of pain in his arms and beg for water. He said there was a spring nearby.

I found the spring and after drinking myself and allowing the horse to drink, I led Worth, with his arms still bound, to the water. As he bent to drink, he suddenly kicked out at me, throwing me off balance for a moment. He ran down an embankment, and I ran after him. He slipped and rolled, and then before my astonished gaze, his body simply vanished into a tangle of vines. I pulled my pistol and crept forward, expecting an assault, but instead, I heard a scream that seemed to echo from within the ground.

With great caution, I peered through the vegetation into what appeared to be a large cavern. I called the prisoner by name, but all I heard were groans. Knowing Worth as I did, I assumed this was some sort of trickery.

“Worth!” I called. “Show yourself, or I will fire my pistol into the cave!”

There were more groans, then a shriek, then silence. I slowly lowered myself into the cavern and by means of the light coming in from the opening, saw a horrendous sight. Worth, in his haste to run into the cavern and elude me, had fallen onto a stalagmite. His body was pierced in the abdominal region. Blood was flowing rapidly from his wound, and by the time I reached him, he was dead.

I am sorry to give you such morbid details as these, but as Worth’s legal ward, you had a right to know.

Pray contact me when you return to England. I am sure you will have many questions, some of which I hope to be able to answer.

Your servant,

Morrill Gatwick

Hannah set the letter down, and she and Aaron stared at each other.

“Mr. Godder is dead!” she whispered.

Aaron took her hand. “It would be wrong to wish death on anyone,” he said slowly, “and yet, there is a certain justice in the manner of his demise.”

Hannah nodded. She carefully folded the letter and carried it to her chamber, along with the letter from her father. She placed both letters in the leather pouch containing her important papers. Slowly, she made her way back to the parlor.

The day was growing late, but Hannah had a visit she wanted to make. Asking Aaron to accompany her, she stepped outside and walked quickly down the path to the little garden. When she reached her parents’ graves, she stood hand in hand with her husband and spoke.

“My dear father, your murder has been avenged. I want you to know I am well and happy, but I will always miss you and my mother and I will always love you.”

Hannah placed a bouquet of lilies on each grave.

****

The next few days were filled with all the necessary preparations for leaving Highland. During their final evening at the plantation, Hannah and Aaron held a fine dinner for the Helms, with many toasts drunk to their new partnership. Later, Hannah sat in the kitchen with Annie and Helena. There were tears and laughter among the three as they discussed all the events that had occurred and the plans for the future. Hannah assured them she would return in a few years’ time for a visit.

“This is farewell,” she whispered, hugging them, “not goodbye.”

The next morning, Hannah and Aaron left Highland Plantation. Helm the Elder drove them to Bridgetown, where they would board the Sea Witch bound for Boston. Before stepping into the carriage, they made one last visit to the little garden.

“If I have a daughter of my own someday,” Hannah said, “I’d like to name her Cassandra after my mother.”

“It’s a beautiful name,” replied Aaron. “And if we have a son, why not name him for your father?”

“You wouldn’t mind that?” she asked.

“No indeed.”

In her heart, Hannah made a wish that she would have children who would continue her parents’ line. As they left the garden and strolled toward the waiting carriage, she glanced at her ardent young husband and smiled. Even amid all the precarious uncertainties of life, Hannah was sure her wish would come true.