The Captain's Challenge (The Wolf Deceivers Series Book 3)

by Elaine Manders

  She reached out a hand to stroke his face. “You must be very careful. As your wife, all I want to do is be done with all this and leave.”

  His feelings exactly. A shadow fell across them, and he forced his gaze from Gillian to find Purity had entered the room as quietly as she often did. He raised his brows. “Yes, Purity?”

  She held out a paper as if it were a bomb that might explode at any moment. “A telegram for Gillian.”

  Gillian shot a surprised look his way before taking the folded paper. “I can’t imagine why I’d be receiving a telegram.”

  As she read, her face drained of all color, distress evident in her eyes. “Papa has had a stroke.”

  He vaulted from the chair faster than he should to take her into his arms, but a strangled cry wrenched their attention to Purity.

  The lovely girl’s face distorted in anguish, her eyes closed. “No,” she gasped, a fist pressed to her chest.

  She wobbled. Alex and Gillian exchanged a startled glance before springing forward to save Purity from toppling.

  Chapter 25

  Rosie, Aunt Mandy’s efficient maid, crushed Gillian’s garments into a carpetbag and latched the lid. “I’ll pack and send your trunk tomorrow, Miss Gillian.”

  Gillian pressed the back of her fingers to her forehead. What was she forgetting? Purity huddled on a stool in the corner of the room as if unaware of her surroundings. Praying?

  “Have you packed Purity’s bag?”

  “Yes’m. I’ll take this and hers downstairs. They’ll be waiting by the door.” Rosie hooked the handle of the bag and backed out of the room.

  “Thank you for letting me go.” Purity left her corner, clenching her hands in front of her. It had been decided that Alex would wait until tomorrow to leave. The doctor was coming around in the morning to remove his stitches. Gillian must leave immediately, and Purity would accompany her.

  Why Purity took the news of Papa’s stroke harder than Gillian was something she hadn’t figured out. “I’m thankful you’re willing to go.”

  “I must. I owe so much to—” She added on a sob, “to your father.”

  Gillian gave her a hug. “He’ll be all right. I’ve seen a miracle this past two weeks. No reason not to think God won’t grant us another. But your faith is greater than mine.”

  Fat tears ran down Purity’s cheeks faster than she could mop them with a drenched handkerchief. “It was harder for you to believe…because when you love someone…greatly…the more fear crouches in, and that impedes faith, ironically.”

  Gillian found a fresh handkerchief and lifted Purity’s chin with one hand while she wiped the girl’s wet face. She stared into those strange, silver eyes, still swimming in tears.

  So familiar.

  A chill crawled from deep within to the roots of her hair as her brain tried to accept what stared back at her. Yes, Purity did owe a lot to Papa. Life.

  “Do you know who has eyes like yours?”

  Purity looked dumbstruck.

  Was it possible Purity didn’t know? She tried to turn away, but Gillian caught her, holding her at arms’ length, taking in the tilt of Purity’s brows, the way the long lashes swept to the sides. Emotion tightened her throat so that her words came out in a whisper. “You’re my sister, aren’t you?”

  Purity’s mouth slacked and her weeping ceased. A touch of fear came into those eyes with the same set and striations as grandmother’s. To be sure, age had faded grandmother’s eyes, but Gillian couldn’t be mistaken.

  The girl tried to escape out of Gillian’s grasp, like she feared being slapped, but Gillian held on tight. Yes, Purity knew. If the girl wasn’t such a devout Christian, she’d probably lie. The struggle to deny the truth was short-lived. Her shoulders slumped. “Yes.”

  “I’m not the daughter Papa was protecting. You are.”

  Purity dipped her head. “Your…our father…loved my mother…loved her before your mother even.”

  The truth left Gillian dry, everything she’d known about her family burning up before her eyes. She moistened her lips. It all made sense now. Mama’s attitude. Sending Maisy to the Drayton Plantation. Papa spending so much time away—not on business as she’d been told—but seeing Purity’s mother.

  Then when Mama died, Purity came to live at Lynwood. Papa had sent for her. “Mama knew and sent your mother away. Who found out after you came to Lynwood? Julia?”

  “I don’t know. Father would never tell me…and now— What if he dies?” The anguish in Purity’s expression reminded Gillian there was more involved here than the grief of a daughter for losing a father. If Papa died, Purity would have no protection.

  Gillian wouldn’t consider Papa’s sins now. He’d obviously loved Purity’s mother. A forbidden love in all sorts of ways, but none of that mattered now with Papa sick. Besides, a blessing came from it all.

  She had a sister.

  Purity stared at the floor, fresh tears streaking her cheeks. “I’m sorry. You should have been told, but Father forbid it. I don’t blame you…for…hating me.”

  “Hate you?” Gillian folded the weeping girl in her arms. “Don’t you understand?” She forced the words around the knot of emotion choking her. “I have no brothers left, but God has sent me a sister.” She swallowed, and tears welled to leak out the corners of her eyes. “I’ve always wanted a sister.”

  Purity’s head came up, her watery eyes searching, beseeching. “Truly. I have always wanted to meet you.”

  They held onto each other for several long moments, then Gillian broke her hold. “You won’t be in danger in Papa’s house. I’ll protect you myself. And we won’t think of Papa not recovering.” Surely God would send them one more miracle?

  Aunt Mandy opened the door. “Abe has your tickets and is waiting out front.”

  Gillian wanted to question Purity further, but this wasn’t the time, and Purity wasn’t in the right frame of mind. They wouldn’t have any privacy on the train, but when they arrived at the townhouse on Dogwood Lane, she and her sister had much to talk about.

  ***

  The azaleas and dogwood blooms were gone, leaving the yard bereft of color. An aura of gloom hung over the house, but Gillian put that down to Papa’s condition. She and Purity climbed the wide gray steps and crossed the porch.

  Julia met them at the door. Dressed in a cool, yellow cotton and organdy gown, her chestnut hair swept into corkscrew curls, she appeared more ready for afternoon tea than receiving visitors to her sick husband.

  She sent a hard glance to Purity. “I’m certain you’ll want to freshen up a bit.” Without a word of greeting, and no word about Papa’s condition, she called to the butler and began issuing orders. “Take Gillian’s luggage to her room, and Purity can have one of the maid’s rooms in the attic.”

  Gillian hooked Purity by the arm. “Purity will stay in my room.”

  Julia raised her brows toward her hairline. “As you wish.”

  “We want to see Papa first.”

  “He won’t know you.” Julia pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve as if she’d just thought of it. She dabbed at her eyes, though Gillian could see no evidence of tears. “Sometimes, he doesn’t recognize me.”

  “Is the doctor here?” She’d rather have an account of Papa’s condition from the doctor than Julia.

  “Yes, he’s been very good to us. He’s agreed to stay until…until we know if Gilbert will—” She touched the corners of her eyes again.

  “Is he in his bedroom?”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll go with you.”

  “That’s not necessary. I know the way.” Still holding onto Purity, Gillian climbed the stairs. Julia trudged after them. “He must not be upset in any way. The doctor says the slightest excitement could…would be fatal. Under no circumstance should you tell him you’ve married that Yankee.”

  How did Julia know that? Aunt Mandy was keeping it as secret as possible. “We won’t upset him,” Gillian tossed over her shoulder.

  �
��Seeing Purity will be enough to upset him.”

  They stopped, and Gillian’s gaze met Purity frightened eyes. “I think seeing Purity will do him good.” She didn’t give her new-found sister a chance to decline, but tugged her in the direction of Papa’s room.

  Foreboding met them at the sickroom, and they moved forward with soft steps. Was this frail, old man her father? Closed eyes sunk into their sockets in a ghastly way, his breathing labored.

  Shocked by the sight of him, Gillian sank down on the bedside chair and took his cold hand. She remembered doing the same with Alex. But Alex, though badly injured, was not ravaged like this.

  Purity moved to the other side and kneeled beside the bed. Nothing disturbed the silence except her sobs.

  “Papa,” Gillian whispered.

  “It’s best you not rouse him,” Julia said from the foot of the bed.

  Gillian ignored her. “Papa, it’s Gillian. Can you hear me?”

  The sunken eyes opened, and the swiveled lips within his beard moved. “Gilly, my treasure.”

  “It’s all right, Papa, don’t try to speak. I’ll stay with you.”

  He moved his head and caught sight of Purity. For a moment a light came into his dull eyes. “Purity—you have come. I prayed you would come.”

  “I won’t leave you, Father.” Purity took his other hand and held it to her cheek.

  Julia’s sharp intake of breath made Gillian send her a warning glance.

  “Where is Maisy?” Papa looked around like he expected to find Purity’s mother hiding in the shadows.

  “Mama is in heaven,” Purity said. “She’s watching over you, Father. She wants you to get well.”

  “In heaven?” His eyes closed with a flutter. “I remember now. If only I could join her.” He tugged on Gillian’s hand, his lids at half-mask like he didn’t have the strength to open them. “Gilly, you will take care of my little Purity?”

  “Of course, Alex and I will take her north with us, and she can go to college. She wishes to become a teacher.” The words left her before she realized she’d revealed that she and Alex were married. She darted a glance at Julia’s stone face. Let her think what she would.

  Purity’s voice held disbelief. “Truly?”

  “North?” Papa gasped. “She can go right here to Wesleyan Women’s College.”

  Gillian bit her tongue. Apparently Papa didn’t catch her hint that she and Alex were married and planned to move. Maybe he didn’t care. “Yes, I’d forgotten about Wesleyan, but you will get well, Papa.” The tears she’d been holding back began to leak from the corners of her eyes. She searched his face, but his eyes had closed again, his lips whispering “Maisy,” over and over.

  “He’s been talking out of his head like that since last night,” Julia said. “It isn’t good for him. Both of you should come away now.”

  He hadn’t acknowledged Julia’s presence. Maybe he’d grown used to ignoring her, but Gillian wouldn’t risk raising Julia’s ire with Papa in this state. She rose and beckoned to Purity. They stepped around Julia and quietly padded out of the room.

  Gillian opened the door to her old bedroom and gave way for Purity to enter. “Go ahead and make yourself at home, little sister.”

  Purity gave her an anxious look as she stepped over the threshold.

  “Gillian, yoohoo,” Miss Lydee hooted from the other end of the hall. Both O’Grady sisters came at a trot. They were puffing when they reached Gillian, but their breathing returned to normal by the time they’d given her a tight hug,

  “My dear, I’m so sorry about your dear papa.”

  “Sister and I have been praying he gets better soon. It’s hard to see such a valiant man laid low.” Miss Maybelle moved her head side to side as she spoke.

  “Thank you for your prayers. I couldn’t believe how poorly Papa looked, but he’ll rebound. He’s strong.” Did she really believe that? She’d seen little evidence that Papa had the will to fight.

  “Might we have a private word with you dear?” Miss Lydee asked.

  Gillian ducked her head inside the room. “Purity, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She closed the door and strolled with the older ladies back down the hall, their skirts swaying from side to side.

  Large windows on each end were open, turning it into a breezeway. “What’s been going on in my absence?” she asked the ladies. If she didn’t get right to the heart of the matter, one of them would go off on a tangent and forget what they wanted to say.

  Miss Maybelle stopped in her tracks. “Oh, my dear, you won’t believe it.”

  “Should you tell her about the major?” Miss Lydee asked. The sisters were like that, whetting one’s curiosity by arguing if they should tell something. She knew from experience they were bursting to tell, and all you had to do was give them time.

  Miss Maybelle needed little time. “Major Turley has been by most every day.”

  “He was investigating the incident when Alex was shot,” Gillian put in. Alex had told her the major had taken over the investigation while Alex was in Atlanta.

  “Yes, that was the excuse.” Miss Maybelle had that annoying habit of throwing out a tidbit and clamming up, so Miss Lydee could explain, and you never knew whether that was what Maybelle meant. Gillian set her gaze on Miss Lydee.

  “Sister has it in her head the major is enamored with Julia.”

  Gillian’s mouth pursed into an “o” before she could stop herself, and she jerked her head back around to Miss Maybelle. “Why would you think that?”

  “Oh, little things—the way he shows up when she’s alone, the strolls in the garden, the laughter coming out of the parlor.”

  “Where was Papa all this time?”

  “Going about his business as usual, pretending not to see.”

  “Sister!”

  “Gillian knows Julia and her papa were not a love match. Why should we be surprised that he cares nothing for who entertains his wife?”

  Miss Lydee drew back, aghast. “Gilbert is our host. He deserves better.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not criticizing Gilbert. It’s perfectly understandable under the circumstances. What I had reference to was how convenient it would be for Julia to,” Miss Maybelle shrugged and looked at the ceiling, “to get rid of Gilbert.”

  Gillian gasped. “What?”

  Miss Lydee touched her arm. “You’ll have to forgive my sister for her imagination. She reads those dime novels about lovers killing their rivals in all sorts of ingenious ways.”

  Miss Maybelle protested. “Not all of my books are like that.” She tittered behind her hand. “But I must admit the really interesting ones are.”

  “Don’t mind her,” Miss Lydee said, “but it wouldn’t hurt to keep a close watch on your papa while he’s so…helpless.”

  Gillian rolled her shoulders. Something else to worry about. “Thank you, ladies. I will keep a close watch.”

  She returned to her room in slow motion. Julia and Major Turley were lovers? A more unusual couple she couldn’t imagine. No, Julia wouldn’t have the nerve to “get rid of Papa.” Still, this was something she’d have to discuss with Alex tomorrow.

  Alex was coming. It was so good to have someone to share her burdens. Someone who cared. Someone stronger than she was. Someone she trusted.

  But if Alex thought there was any danger to Papa, they might have to delay their departure to that Missouri farm and her new life as a farmer’s wife.

  Did the burdens never end?

  Chapter 26

  Gillian sat at Papa’s bedside, reading from the Psalms. She didn’t know if he comprehended the passages, but her voice seemed to calm him. In fact, his even breathing indicated he’d fallen asleep.

  The familiar verses helped calm her too, and she needed calming. She’d received a telegram that Alex was delayed because the doctor wanted to give his wounds another day to heal before he left Atlanta. Also, Amanda wanted to come with him, and she wouldn’t be available until Thursday.

  Gillian spe
nt much of her time in prayer, trying to sweep her mind of all negativity. But fears stalked at the periphery like growling wolves, reminding her they’d leap upon her if she let her guard down for a second.

  Purity intruded into her thoughts. “There’s a gentleman calling. You go on down. I’ll sit with Father a while. At least until Julia runs me out.”

  “She’d better not.” Julia was skating on the edge of Gillian’s last nerve. “Who is the gentleman?”

  “He wouldn’t give his name, but said you’d know him.”

  Strange. She handed the Bible to Purity on her way out.

  She descended the stairs cautiously, wondering who could be calling on her. They’d had few visitors, but maybe someone dropped by to inquire about Papa’s health.

  The tall man with hair a few shades darker than hers stood with his back to her, examining the portrait of Mama that hung on the wall separating the foyer from the library.

  When her foot hit the bottom stair, it creaked, and he swung around.

  Her heart tried to jump out of her chest, squeezing a scream from her throat. “Will!”

  They ran to each other, she and the brother who was dead but was alive. He lifted her off the floor and hugged the breath out of her. “Gilly, I thought you were in England.”

  “And I thought you were dead.”

  He set her down and his laughter bounced off the walls as she’d remembered, just a little lower pitched. It was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard.

  Her excitement mixed with recrimination. How could he have left those who loved him wondering for years? “Where have you been?” Then the enormity of prayers answered took over, and sudden tears spilled down her cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. Are you really alive, or am I dreaming?”

  He put her hand over his heart. “I’m not a ghost, Gilly, and my, have you grown.”

  She looked up at his manly bearded face. “You too. And you have a lot of ‘plaining to do, as Jim used to say. Where have you been all this time?”