A faint voice came from behind the panel. "Charity. Open this door. Please."
She crossed the room and struck the panel with her fist. "No." She slid down the wall and leaned against it, wrapping her arms about her knees. "No, Jamie. You can't come out. Lord Beauford may come to my bed." Another lie. "In the morning. I'll bring more food in the morning."
Heat rose in her body and she swallowed hard. Her hand crept toward the hidden latch. If you open that door, you know what will happen, the inner voice said. She drew her hand back and sat on it.
"Charity."
"No. I won't." Grabbing Kat, she carried the baby into the sitting room.
Kat yawned and waved a minute fist. Charity smothered her face in kisses. "I love you," she said. "I love you, Kat." She rocked the infant in her arms.
"Tomorrow I'll get him out of there if I have to face down the devil himself," Charity swore. She let out a deep breath and hugged Kat tighter, certain the devil was within her own soul.
"I'm tempted," she admitted to the child. "Very tempted. But I won't do it. I won't." Resolutely she left the sitting room and went to the servants' quarters to fetch the wet nurse. Somehow she knew she'd get a lot more sleep if the girl came to share her bedroom.
At ten o'clock the next morning Captain Halifax and his soldiers took ship back to Annapolis. A few minutes later, Charity opened the panel to the secret room.
"Damn it, Charity, why did you wait so long? I've been without even a candle since last night." Jamie's face was flushed. "My leg hurts like hell."
"Can you walk on it?" She felt his head. He had a fever for certain. "I've got to get you out of here."
"Is Halifax gone?"
She nodded. "I'll keep Harry occupied, and the butler if I can." She put an arm under his shoulder. "Put on these clothes and go downstairs and out by way of the garden. I've ordered the closed carriage brought around to take me to Sweetwater. I'll have the coachman stop by the garden lane, near the tall cedar. Once you're in the carriage, I'll tell the driver I've changed my mind and want to go to Widow's Endeavor." She chewed at her lower lip nervously. "If I can get you to Elizabeth, she'll be able to do more for your leg than I can."
Jamie tested the bad leg. He gasped and caught himself with a hand on the wall. "I don't know if I can make it on my own. Send John up here." He forced a grin at her uncomprehending stare. "It's all right, he's one of us."
"John? What do you mean?"
"I mean he works for me. He's a friend. He can help me get down to the garden and into the coach if necessary." The room spun, and Jamie lowered himself into a chair. "Is this what you want me to put on?" He picked up a garment.
Charity nodded. "John is a smuggler?" It was beyond belief. "I can't stand him. I wouldn't trust him with a shilling."
"A woman's dress? You want me to wear a dress and mob-cap?"
"Suppose someone saw you? I could hardly have a man coming out of my room. No one will notice another maid, even if she is too tall." She helped him out of his coat. "I'll burn these things in the fireplace."
"You will not! Do you know what that coat cost? Roll it into a bundle. I'll take it with me." Jamie rubbed at the aching leg. "I'll be lucky if I don't lose it. What do you know about healing?"
She ignored his insult. "I still don't trust John. Can't you do it without him?"
"No, I can't. Just do as I tell you." Grumbling, he let her help him into the drab wool gown and apron. "It might be better to hang. If I am caught, I'm going to feel like such a fool."
Charity set the starched cap on his head and pulled it over his brown hair. "Actually, you're not too bad-looking as a woman. It wouldn't be hard to find some man to buy your indenture if you were a bondmaid." A delicate eyebrow arched and she pursed her lips to hide the forming giggle. The green eyes danced as she adjusted the cap. "I might buy you myself," she teased.
"Enough of this farce. Let's get on with it," Jamie said gruffly. He grabbed her arm and pulled her a breath's distance away. Before she could draw away, his lips captured hers in a deep yearning kiss of unrestrained passion.
The tension building within her rose to a heated pitch, sweeping all reason, all caution away in a tide of raw emotion. Her arms encircled his neck, pulling him down to her, her warm body molded to his.
The months of waiting, the hope and despair, her heartache and desire all flowed together into this one searing kiss.
With a cry, Charity pulled away. "No... Jamie... I can't..." She placed a trembling hand on the doorknob! Salt tears flooded up in the green eyes, now burning with an inner fire. "I love you, Jamie," she said and fled the room.
A few hundred yards from the house, Charity leaned her head out and called to the coachman. "Stop! Stop, I say!"
The black man slowed his team and then reined them to a halt. He leaned from the seat to see what Lady Beauford wanted.
Charity opened the door and jumped down, a shocking breach of etiquette. In the process, she became entangled in her petticoats and fell to the ground. "Don't just sit there, you fool!" she shrieked.
The coachman leaped down from his seat to aid the lady, and in the midst of the distraction, John helped Jamie into the far side of the carriage.
The butler appeared at the coachman's elbow as he was assisting Charity to her feet. "What's amiss here?" John demanded.
The Coachman attempted to explain, but Charity waved him aside imperiously. "If he would just drive the horses instead of neglecting his duties," she complained.
John drew himself up stiffly, motioned toward the driver's seat, and dropped the step under the carriage door. "I'll help Lady Beauford into the carriage," he said. The driver hastened to obey, and John opened the door, winked at Charity, and helped her into the vehicle.
Jamie grinned at Charity from the opposite seat. The mobcap was perched jauntily on his head. Charity covered her mouth with her hands and stifled a giggle.
"Take Lady Beauford to Widow's Endeavor," John ordered. "Any more insolence on your part, and I'll be forced to report your behavior to Lord Beauford." He cleared his throat importantly. "Her ladyship has informed me that your attitude needs improving. If I have to speak to you again, you'll go back to being a stableboy."
Gathering the reins in both hands, the chastised driver clicked to his team and drove off down the road toward Lady Deale's plantation without another word.
"Do I please your ladyship?" Jamie asked in a false, high-pitched voice.
"Shhh," Charity warned. Did he realize what they both were risking? If anything went wrong...
Jamie leaned across and caught Charity's hand. His lips formed a silent I love you.
Charity pulled her hand free and settled back against the cushioned seat. The sooner Jamie was safely away from Avalon, the better. She only hoped that getting him out of the carriage would be as simple as getting him in.
The distance to Widow's Endeavor was traveled in silence. Charity kept her eyes averted. Jamie's nearness, even in those ridiculous clothes, was maddening.
She had admitted to him that she still loved him. But it changed nothing. She was Lord Beauford's wife. She and Jamie could have no future as long as Harry lived.
As the carriage turned into Elizabeth's lane, Charity threw a lap robe over him. The curtains at the windows were drawn. With a little luck, she could get out without anyone seeing Jamie. "Elizabeth will see you get proper care," she whispered. "She'll hide you until you're well enough to go home. For God's sake, take care of yourself. And please stay clear of Avalon."
The coachman was relieved to see the lady's evil mood had vanished as he helped her down.
"Go around to the kitchen," she instructed. "I'll have Lady Deale's cook give you something. We'll say no more about what happened earlier."
"No, my lady." Gratefully the man did as he was told.
Once inside, Charity was able to explain her plight to Elizabeth. "He's hurt," she said. "He needs a physician. And you have to get him out of my carriage without anyone knowin
g."
"Don't worry," the older woman assured her. "I've had some experience with this kind of thing before. Remember, Jamie Drummond and I have been partners for a long time. I'll have you on your way home in due-time with none the wiser."
"There's just one thing," Charity said. Mischief lit the catlike green eyes. "He's wearing a dress."
"You stay here," Elizabeth ordered, unable to hold back the chuckles. "This is one sight I have to see for myself."
* * *
Winter seized the Eastern Shore in a bitter grip. Winds from the northwest swept across the Chesapeake, locking the Tidewater in a cold wave worse than any the oldest settlers could remember. Rivers froze from bank to bank; trees cracked from the intense cold. Waterfowl, unable to feed along the creeks and marshes, starved.
The human inhabitants of the land suffered too. Families huddled close to fireplaces and wrapped themselves in blankets and extra clothing. Water for drinking and household use had to be heated. Caring for livestock became a monumental chore.
At Avalon, Charity was concerned with keeping Kat warm and healthy. The cold had brought sickness—an inflammation of the chest and coughing. Dozens of the people at Avalon were flat on their backs, and news from Widow's Endeavor and Oxford confirmed the fact of an epidemic.
Charity's concern for Jamie's recovery was overshadowed by her fear that Kat would become one of the victims of the illness. Fourteen children had died in Oxford alone.
Lord Beauford had ordered that Charity, Nan, the wet nurse, and Kat be confined to Charity's chambers. Only John was permitted to bring food. Everything that went in or out of the apartment was passed through the doorway with no contact.
So critical was the situation that Christmas passed without celebration.
Then in January, as quickly as they had begun, the northwest winds stopped. The temperature rose, and with the change in weather the illness passed.
Due to Lord Beauford's strict regulations and prompt measures, only three had died on Avalon, and one of those was a very old woman.
Charity was delighted to be released from the prison of her chambers. Too long had she paced the confines of those familiar rooms without a breath of fresh air. She was glad to accept Harry's invitation to ride to Elizabeth's to see how they had fared during the sickness and cold.
Elizabeth welcomed them with open arms, assuring Charity privately that Jamie's leg was healing nicely and that he hadn't been taken with the illness. "He asked after you and the child," she said. "Almost daily."
"Kat's fine," Charity replied. "She can hold the bell and coral rattle you gave her, and she laughs out loud. You won't believe how she's grown. We were so frightened she'd take the sickness, but she didn't even get a sniffle."
"I've lost five of my people," Elizabeth confided. "One was near the age of Kat. Harry was right to keep her away from the servants. The little ones seemed to have no resistance to it." She took a deep breath. "Sometimes it's very hard to accept God's will." For a fraction of a minute, Charity glimpsed the weight of responsibilities that rested on Elizabeth's shoulders, then a smile lit her face. "Enough gloomy talk." She led the way into the small sitting room where Harry was sipping brandy. "I have Christmas gifts for all three of you."
They spent the afternoon laughing and talking and enjoying Elizabeth's bountiful fare, finally leaving for Avalon just before dark, laden with packages for Kat.
As the light was fast failing, Harry led Charity home by a shortcut across the frozen surface of Frenchman's Creek.
"I'm not sure about this, my lord," Charity said nervously. The little mare balked at the edge of the ice. "Couldn't we go around by the road?" Duchess threw her head up and twitched her ears. "She doesn't like the ice."
"Nonsense! It's perfectly safe," Lord Beauford insisted. "Be firm with her." He urged the bay gelding out ahead of her. "This ice is six inches thick. Just keep her to a walk so she doesn't slip."
Charity dismounted and led Duchess down the bank onto the ice. It did seem solid enough. The mare snorted and stepped gingerly, raising each hoof in an exaggerated manner. Lord Beauford was already more than halfway across.
Cautiously leading the horse, Charity followed. The surface of the creek was cold on the bottom of her feet; the thin leather riding boots were little protection.
Suddenly, without warning, there was a sickening crack, and the bay gelding plunged knee-high through the ice. Charity screamed and dropped the mare's reins.
Lord Beauford fought for control of the terrified animal. The cracking grew louder as a cobweb of splintering crevices appeared in the ice. "Go back, Caroline!" Harry yelled. The bay fell heavily. A hole opened and water poured onto the surface of the ice. Horse and rider struggled to keep from being sucked under by the current.
Charity stood frozen to the spot as Duchess turned and scrambled back up the bank. "Harry!"
To her horror, the bay disappeared in the black water. Seconds later, the old man bobbed up and clung to the edge of the broken ice.
"My lord!" Charity shrieked, running toward him.
"No," he moaned.
She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled closer. The ice creaked beneath the weight of her body ; she could see movement. "Hold on! I'm coming! I'll get you out!"
The piece of ice he was clinging to gave way, and Harry was again dumped into the water. Once more he swam to the top and grasped the fragile edge.
Charity backed up until the surface was solid, then got to her feet and ran back to Duchess. A rope! If only she had a rope! She pulled off the mare's bridle and tied one rein to a short, stout branch. Then, badly frightened, she edged back across the creek toward Lord Beauford.
"Hold on, my lord! I'm coming," she repeated over and over. When she had gone as far as she dared, she slid the branch out over the ice toward Beauford. "Catch hold!" she yelled. "Grab it!"
On the third try he succeeded. Using all her strength, she began to pull. The ice splintered, but the old man held on.
"Just a few more feet," she cried. She could not have believed he weighed so much. It was hard to get a grip on the slippery ice.
After what seemed like hours, Charity was able to pull him far enough from the broken ice to grab him with her hands. Frantically she drew him to the bank and ripped at the sodden clothing. He was shivering so hard he couldn't speak a word. Removing her heavy woolen cloak, she wrapped it around him. "I'll have to ride back to Elizabeth's for help," she explained. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
It took precious minutes to coax Duchess near enough to put the bridle back on and to mount. Then Charity was off across the fields at a gallop, too frightened to notice the cold.
The rescue party carried the old earl home to Avalon and put him to bed more dead than alive. For days Charity hardly left his bedside as he tossed with fever. Elizabeth came daily to administer potions and to pack his chest with herb poultices, but it was Charity who spooned broth between his lips and wiped his sweating brow. Not once did she admit that there was a chance that Lord Beauford would succumb to his fever.
"You will soon be strong again, my lord," she soothed. "You're too tough to let a little water get the best of you."
"That was a foolish thing you did," he gasped, caught in a spasm of coughing.
"You could have been killed."
Charity laughed. "Ma—Someone once told me that a woman meant to be hanged will never die another way." She kissed his lined forehead. "You were the brave one, my lord. I could never have fought that current so long."
With a sigh, Lord Beauford lay back against the white pillow and closed his eyes. His breathing came in shuddering gulps.
Maybe it would have been easier if he had let the water take him as it had taken the horse.
"Sleep, my lord. I'll be here by you," she promised.
Beauford's heart was warmed by the genuine concern in her voice. How many men, he wondered, had received so much from a marriage of convenience? Clutching her hand, he drifted off to sleep.
"My lady." John waited in the hall. "You must come at once. A dead man has been found on the creek bank."
"A dead man? How did he die? Who is it?" Charity demanded, reaching for the cloak a maid held out. Since Lord Beauford's accident, the atmosphere had changed greatly at Avalon. The servants, once so distant and ill-mannered, had responded to Charity's act of bravery with fervent loyalty.
The cook had put into words what the others had felt. "She 'ad nothin' to do but stand there and scream," she declared. "And she would 'ave become a rich widow. But she didn't. She held fast to 'er lord and done 'er duty. She's all right, 'er ladyship is."
Charity's care of the ailing man had only added to the growing legend.
"The woman's a saint," the laundress said. "Commoner or not, she's a real lady."
The sudden turnabout had been a little disconcerting to Charity. Suddenly she was stumbling over servants, all eager to do her slightest bidding.
The hint of a smile passed over John's thin lips. "Of course, it's not my place to say. But it may be that this dead man is the escaped smuggler." He winked. "He seems to have been under the ice for some time, perhaps even since the christening."
Charity's pulse quickened. Jamie? No, it couldn't be. Why was John behaving so strangely? "Did the man meet with foul play?"
John shrugged. "After so long in the water, who knows? But he wears a coat similar to one described by Captain Halifax."
"But how is that possible?" It couldn't be Jamie. He'd carried the coat with him when he left Avalon. She followed John out of the house and into the big barn.
A crowd of men and women were gathered around a still form. The object was laid out on a feed box and covered with a gray blanket. Talking ceased as Lady Beauford approached.
Charity's mouth felt dry. "John, have you viewed the body?" Her voice cracked. "Do... do you recognize him?"
The butler took hold of the corner of the blanket. "Do you wish to see him yourself, my lady?"
Tender Fortune Page 33
