So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 4)

by Amber Lynn Perry

  Like the delightful touch of new petals in spring, somewhere deep within him, a sweet softness began, spraying tickles over his skin. She had done this for him. Glancing across his shoulder, Joseph peered to the door. Was he even worthy of her? What made him think she would ignore the mountainous past that rose between them? He was willing to scale any height for another chance. And if she was willing, he could hold her hand—carry her if she needed—every step of the way, for surely the view from the top was far more beautiful than they could ever imagine.

  A slow breath lulled him back to his task, and he slipped the soft linen over his head and snatched his fresh breeches and stockings, tucking and buttoning everything in place. Feeling even more stirred, he thought of the evening to come. She’d not denied his request to sit with him by the fire. ’Twas a step forward, was it not?

  Brushing and securing his hair behind his head, he peered into the mirror one last time, then hurried into the hall, surprised that Hannah’s door was still closed. Perhaps she’d already gone down.

  “Joseph?”

  ‘Twas Stockton’s voice. He had taken to calling Joseph by his first name, and Joseph could only hope he didn’t take such liberties with Hannah.

  “Aye, sir?”

  He went downstairs and entered the parlor just as Stockton exited his room, his scarlet jacket shed.

  “Ready for supper?” Glancing to the kitchen, Stockton’s face puckered. “Is your cousin not joining us?”

  Joseph spun around to inspect what befuddled him. The table was set, the food in the center, but Hannah was still not at her regular perch beside the fire.

  “I cannot say, sir. I haven’t seen her since we returned.” He glanced up the stairs, the beginnings of a worry in his stomach. “Perhaps I should see after her. Be sure she is all right.”

  “Aye.” Stockton’s attention was up the stairs before his eyes shifted to Joseph. “I worried perhaps this would happen. She seemed none too pleased to see her father.”

  Struck by the revelation like a club to the skull, Joseph shook his head and all but stuttered his reply. “Her father? He was here?”

  “He was.” Sighing, Stockton scratched his thumbnail beside his eyes. “I left them alone to talk, but I fear perhaps I should not have.”

  Nay, he should not have. He should not have even let the man on the land. If Joseph had known…

  His pulse raged. How many hours ago was this? He whirled to the clock on the mantel. Four hours perhaps, maybe more? That small worry steadily deepened to a cavernous pit. She hadn’t seen her father in years. If only Joseph had been with her. If only she had come to him, told him of her encounter, he might have been able to help her, ease what pains she suffered.

  Bounding up the stairs, he knocked gently, though the energy in his muscles wished to break down the door to ease in an instant the writhing concern. “Hannah?”

  Silence replied.

  “Hannah, are you…” Heaven help him, he didn’t know what to say. He glanced down the stairs to Stockton, who looked up, eyebrows cinched.

  Putting his forehead nearly against the wood, he spoke quiet, gentle. “I haven’t seen you since we came home. I simply want to be assured you are well.”

  Still nothing. He tried the latch, and it gave. Pushing it open, he hurried in, and his stomach rolled to his feet. She was not there. The bed was tidy, not a sign she’d even been there, but certainly she had.

  He hurried out and halted at Stockton’s hard stare.

  “Where could she be?”

  If only he knew. He descended two by two as Stockton rushed into his room for his coat.

  “No, Stockton, wait.”

  The man did an about-face, his expression taut. “I must go look with you.”

  “No, sir, I beg you. She will not have gone far, and if she is truly so upset, she might wish her distress to stay only within the family.” Waiting as if on eggshells, Joseph prayed the man would submit.

  Shoulders dropping, Stockton pointed. “If you do not find her within the hour, I will come. Family distress be hanged.”

  After a swift nod, Joseph yanked on his coat, scarf, and hat.

  Hurrying out the door and into the yard, he stopped, not allowing his eyes time to adjust to the pale light of the moon before he circled, scanning every which way for any indication of where she might have gone.

  He gazed to the hill, and his heart hovered between beats. There she was. Lord be praised. Racing up the hill toward the graves, he called to her. “Hannah.”

  She didn’t turn, didn’t even acknowledge him until he stopped directly at her side. A cursory glance and forced smile shadowed her face.

  “Hannah…are you—”

  “I am fine.” The hollow words were a lie. She couldn’t honestly believe he would accept such an answer.

  “’Tis cold. Will you not come back inside?”

  She peered down at something in her hand, then quickly tucked it out of sight. “Forgive me. I hadn’t meant to worry you. I needed only a moment of solitude.”

  Her attention went again to the snow-covered graves. So enclosed in sorrow, it seemed she hardly knew he was there. Dear Hannah. If there were some way to ease what ailed her. She wished for Ensign, for his wisdom and embrace. Could not Joseph impart that now?

  The winter stabbed at his ears, as surely it did hers. He wasn’t about to allow her to stay in the darkness alone and in such temperatures.

  Hadn’t she a scarf? He uncurled the one from his neck and placed it around hers. “I shall stay with you. It grows dark and is unsafe for you to venture out alone when soldiers abound.”

  Offering him another look that hovered slightly above civil, she thanked him with a stiff smile, quickly turning away. But not before he noted the glisten of her cheek. She cried?

  She dabbed quickly at her face, and his suspicions were confirmed. Dear Lord, what should I do?

  Before even a clear answer came, he spoke. “Hannah, I am so sorry. I only just learned your father was here. Had I known I would have—”

  “Nothing to be sorry over.” She raised her chin, her tone brittle. “I should have supposed he would come when he learned of Ensign’s passing. Only I cannot figure how he might have heard of it. We have told no one.”

  Joseph’s heart ached upward to his shoulders, cramping his already tight muscles. The need to hold her was too great. He reached out for her, but she swiveled away, as if she knew he would touch her.

  He swallowed, sorting through a stack of responses before deciding on one be hoped would suffice. “Do not concern yourself. We can speak of it later.” He stepped backward to the house, knowing full well he would never let her out of his sight until she once again returned safely indoors. “I shall give you the solitude you seek.”

  He turned but stopped when a fragile thread reached out to him. “Joseph?”

  “Aye?”

  The silvery moonlight reflected in her tear-moistened eyes, and it took every measure of strength, down to his very bones, not to reach forward and brush his fingers against her skin, to vow he would do all he could to ease every pain she suffered.

  She licked her lips and darted her eyes away, as if she wanted to be sure they were alone before pinning them on him. “I…I have decided to leave Eaton Hill. After the ball.”

  Struck in the gut, he tried to be pleased at the news, but instead his insides roiled. Wasn’t that what he’d wanted—her to be away from Stockton? The truth exploded through him with each thump of his pulse. Nay. He wanted her here. With him.

  “Where will you go?”

  Studying her fingers a moment, she nudged her chin forward. “I shall go to Caroline’s.”

  He nodded, working his jaw back and forth as he gnawed on the emotions he resented. ’Twas right for her to go. Had he not stated such this morning? After a breath that brushed away the fog, he spoke. “’Tis wise to stay away until the conflict is over.”

  Hannah tucked that stray hair around her ear and looked back to t
he graves. “I…I shall not be coming back.”

  “Not coming back?” That familiar pang, one he remembered all too well, one he loathed and resented, breathed back to life in his chest after so many years of being secreted underground. “Why not?”

  She shrugged a single shoulder. “I have nothing for me here. I see that now. And as the new owner will want to run the foundry and care for the land as he wishes—and with Ensign gone, I see no reason to return.” Lifting her pained eyes to his, her soul all but reached for him through her darkened gaze. “Do you?”

  Aye, so many. A hundred answers flocked to his tongue, ready to fly across the vastness between them, at last to give life to the very thing he couldn’t say. Everything slipped to the background while his mind chased after the answer he knew he would never catch. Should he tell her? At last bare the burden he’d carried across his shoulders since the moment he and Ensign had spoken? But if he did, would she despise him even more—think him selfish for purchasing something she loved so well? Perhaps she would believe he did it only to get close to her, to force himself back into her life?

  He cleared his throat, answering how he should, not how he wished to. “You must do what you think best.”

  The delicate sinews in her neck jostled, and it seemed another rise of emotions consumed her, for she nodded too quickly and turned away.

  Not since that day Philo revealed Hannah’s anger had he felt this depth of pain, this raw, biting agony that ripped him clear through.

  He started for the house, mindless of the cold, looking over his shoulder one last time. Opening his heart was one thing. Offering it, another. And it seemed God was trying to spare him from more grief, for surely that was all that awaited him. And he’d had enough of that to last a lifetime.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The sun was reluctant to rise, as sleepy, it seemed, as she was awake. A few stars still sparkled around the edges of the perse horizon, where the pale light had yet to reach. Hannah tiptoed belowstairs, her thick wool stockings itching her legs as she hurried into the kitchen. She must leave before the men were up. Bending, she scratched the loathsome necessity. Irritating as they were, the stockings she’d knit last winter would keep her legs from numbing on the ride.

  Snatching the basket of day-old cakes, she covered them with a cloth and rested her swiftly penned note beside it. So consumed she’d been since her father’s abrupt arrival and Joseph’s tenderness last eve at the graves, sleep refused to beguile her. And though she knew she could not yet leave for good, she must do this. Now.

  A sound creaked from above, and she froze. Joseph was the last person she wished to see. Though somehow, he was the only person her mind seemed able to fix upon. She swallowed and looked upstairs, one part of her wishing for him to enter the kitchen and plead with her not to go, the other wanting never to see him again.

  Sure at last that no one descended to meet her, she slipped out the door and dashed across the yard. Twenty miles on horseback—alone—was nothing when the company of Caroline was the only remedy for what ailed her.

  When the horse was saddled, she mounted and exited through the back of the barn, lest Joseph had awoken and come down to the kitchen in the few minutes since her leaving. If he saw her, he would no doubt attempt to stop her, perhaps might even follow once her note was discovered. He would be livid. But that was an inevitability she was willing to endure for a few moments with her cousin.

  Winter’s grip tightened around her, as did the reality of her impetuous act. Joseph would be right to be upset when he learned of where she’d gone. Traveling to Sandwich was foolhardy. But was not all of it? Spying, scribing…allowing her spirit to once more fit itself alongside the man she was supposed to have long since forgotten?

  With a quiet “yaw” and firm kick, Hannah raced along the snow-covered road, part of her alive in a way it had not been in so very long. But more alive from the solitude, than from him, she promised herself. Caroline would help her see more clearly. ’Twas a feminine perspective she needed—a listening ear and understanding heart. The ride would take only a few hours, less if the roads were more favorably conditioned. After revealing her sheltered aches, the secrets even her own heart seemed unsure of, she would begin the journey home and return before supper.

  The brisk air, the crystal sky, and the sudden freedom pressed her onward. She leaned forward with the rhythmic up and down of her mount’s strong neck, torn at the thought of leaving Eaton Hill for good. How could she do it? ’Twas her home. Yet how could she endure the presence of Joseph day after day, knowing he hadn’t wanted her before—and still did not—when her traitorous heart wanted him more with every passing moment?

  She welcomed the biting breeze on her cheeks. Nay, she did right. Caroline would help her see sense, clear her head and heart of him.

  At least, the hope of him.

  * * *

  Joseph hadn’t slept. Only tossed and turned atop his feather tick, but naught more. That blissful ignorance a restful night afforded was not to be had. Not when Hannah’s sudden change and mournful confession kept his eyes wide and back stiff.

  He left his room to find her door closed, as it had been last night. His chest tightened. Not wanting to actually believe this morning was a repeat of before, he went first to the kitchen, where his concern was not eased but incited. On the table sat a cloth-draped basket of yesterday’s cakes with a note beside it.

  Flinging a look over his shoulder, he peered at Stockton’s room. The man was likely still abed. Or had he already risen and seen this note himself? Hastily unfolding the paper, Joseph read Hannah’s feminine writing.

  Please forgive my sudden absence. I have gone to visit my cousin and shall be back before supper.

  Miss Young

  Sandwich? Was she mad? Refolding the note with a gruff breath, he shoved it into his pocket, his mind grinding over what he must do. He had to go after her, no question. Yanking his coat and hat from their position beside the door, he marched out. Such strange behavior, and so abrupt. She was not the kind of person to do this sort of thing. Last night and today? Something was amiss.

  Flinging wide the door, he jolted at the sight of Higley’s arm in the air, ready to knock.

  “Higley?”

  The man lowered his hand. “I’ve come to fetch you.” Foreboding bled through his tone. “Your presence in town has been requested by Major Pitman.”

  “My presence?” This day had a hatred for him, it would seem.

  Turning back to his waiting horse, Higley indicated for Joseph to head to the barn. “Ready your mount. We must hurry.”

  Something in the way Higley held his posture made Joseph’s stomach turn. “Where are we going?”

  Higley’s jaw was set, his eyes hard, and he replied with nothing but silence.

  Joseph had not seen the man so riled. “I’ll not be a moment.”

  Racing to the barn, he readied Anvil in a handful of minutes, his spirit spiked with a nervous edge. Never far from Joseph’s mind was the throbbing sliver of truth, as real as if it were imbedded beneath his nail. Higley knew his identity and could use it against him. Was he now taking him away? Had Higley forced Hannah somewhere against her will? Nay. Joseph mounted, no more than a slight tap needed to get Anvil on the move. Higley seemed too kind beneath his red coat for Joseph to believe him capable of anything nefarious.

  Higley’s dappled mare sidestepped as Joseph neared. “Last night Willis Plains was taken on suspicion of working for the enemy.”

  “What?” Joseph tried to keep the color in his face from fading. “What happened?”

  “You were the last to see him before he was arrested.” Higley’s next words were hoarse and low. “If you will witness of your encounter with him yesterday and that indeed he is loyal to the king, perhaps he can be saved. If not, Major Pitman is prepared to have him hanged.”

  Hanged. “I will do whatever I can.”

  Higley tapped his heels against his horse and raced to the road. Jo
seph set Anvil to match his speed.

  The cold breeze sighed past his ears as he rode, but he couldn’t feel it. His concern was twenty miles behind him in Sandwich. Perhaps ’twas better that Hannah had gone—if she in fact was there. If he too were to be discovered, at least she could not be taken, and perhaps he could vouch for her enough to have it believed she was not involved in any of what they undertook. Thus the blame would be his alone.

  The cadenced beat of horses’ hooves against the hard ground drummed into Joseph’s very bones. Praying, he gripped the reins harder, pleading with God to pour His spirit through him. Willis must be saved, their mission kept secret and the raid accomplished. More was at stake than merely their lives. In greater peril was their future.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Oh, Hannah, my heart breaks for you.”

  On the edge of her cousin’s feather bed, Hannah rested her hands in her lap, Caroline directly beside her. Hannah had laid out everything—Ensign, the spying, Stockton, Greene…and Joseph. Every sorrow, every pain now free to roam the air between them, her heart not quite as heavy as it had been.

  Caroline took Hannah’s hand in hers. “I had received your letter, but…’twas so secretive, I dared not reply.”

  “You were right not to.” Eyes dry of tears, Hannah breathed out a bitter laugh. “I am a fool. ’Tis my fault alone that I am in this position. I should not have insisted upon returning.” The last came out as a reprimand that she’d intended to keep silent. “I should not have allowed myself to look twice at him.”

  Caroline seemed to cradle the tender confession, examining it in her quiet before her eyes slanted to Hannah, her question reverent. “Do you still love him?”

  Love.

  Those four letters curled through the air and into her chest, circling her heart until the truth she’d never revealed began to flow like water from a tipped pitcher. “In truth…I never stopped.” She looked up, claiming her cousin’s kind gaze and finding the strength to release the rest of her harbored pains. “I know I told you before—how my father said Joseph came to the house the morning after he’d discovered our sin, saying Joseph wanted to see me, but I’d gone out. My father told me Joseph had wanted to reveal to me by his own mouth that he was sorry for what happened, but that he’d come to realize married life was not his wish, that he didn’t want to be tied to only one woman. And though he cared for me, he didn’t care enough to make good on his promise to marry me. He wished me well but didn’t want to hurt me further by seeing me again. With that, he left and never came back.”