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

by Amber Lynn Perry

  Saying it aloud made the past seem almost unreal, as if she told someone else’s story and not her own. ’Twas easy to relate it to Caroline. One who knew most of what had happened, she being a friend to both her and Joseph during those years.

  Hannah looked to her confidant, the next words heavy, dragging like an anchor against the bottom of her heart. “I never told him about the child.”

  Caroline’s light-blue eyes rounded gradually, as if her mind was slow to understand what Hannah had spoken. “You never told him?”

  “How could I?” She spoke quickly, to relieve herself of the residing guilt as well as to remind herself why she’d done it. “If he truly didn’t care to marry and wished to move on, how could I tell him of our child, and what difference would it have made? ’Twould have only hurt me further, and that I could not have borne.”

  Grip tightening in tenderness, Caroline’s gaze drifted down, her dainty eyebrows folding in the middle. “I knew something was amiss. Hannah, I didn’t believe it then, and I still do not.” At that, her gaze rose again. “He loved you more than I have ever seen any man love. The only way for you to be certain of his feelings—to be certain of what happened—is to ask him.”

  “I cannot do that.”

  “You would live with this burden?”

  She shot back with more force than she wished. “Have I a choice?”

  “Have you a heart that aches? Have you a mind that will not rest?” Caroline shifted sideways, her strong hands holding hard. “It might pain you to your very bones, but you cannot let the rest of this go unspoken. Not when he clearly still cares for you.”

  Another breathy laugh popped from her chest. “He sees me as someone who he must care for during our mission—and I will concede that he…” Her words began to slow, but she pressed them through. “He is as kind and generous as he ever was, but I fear now that ’twas not for me he insisted on coming, but for Eaton Hill.” She leaned her head back with a hard sigh. “What a fool I was. I saw one path, and I took it. Joseph was right. I didn’t think it through, and now I am suffering for it.”

  Caroline straightened, her features rising in polite contradiction. “You acted bravely and in the right. Do not belittle yourself so.” With a quick squeeze to Hannah’s hand, she stood to face her, as if to impede any additional streams of self-deprecation. “Though I understand you are upset over the spying, I still do not believe what you say of Joseph caring only for Eaton Hill. He cares for you Hannah. I do not doubt it.”

  “Caroline, please—”

  “I have never doubted that.” She spun away, her skirt whirling behind her as she circled in full. “Why must you keep so much inside, Hannah? Tell him!”

  “I cannot!” Hannah stood, lowering her voice for fear the others belowstairs would hear her. “I have risked too much of my heart to once again lay it out to be trampled on.”

  Caroline gripped Hannah at the shoulders, the soft angles of her face hardening with sincerity. “You may not have seen him for these many years, but I have. And never has he looked at another woman—”

  “You can’t know that—”

  “When he lost you, he lost the light in his eyes, the truth in his smile.” Caroline’s gentle fingers brushed down Hannah’s arms, and she took her hands. “Part of him died when he lost you.”

  Hannah twisted away, a vain attempt to allow the words to bypass her, but they enclosed around her like a hopeful embrace as Caroline continued. “We do not know why he bought Eaton Hill or why he kept the truth from you, but one thing is certain, and that alone you must place your trust in. He has done nothing but protect you. Does he not deserve your understanding?”

  “Understanding?” For a moment she neglected her volume. “What if I tell him I had a child? I never thought to see him again—I was almost certain he had forgotten about me, that he indeed wished to have other women, as my father claimed, since he never even attempted to write to me…” Her throat began a slow-burning ache. “If I allow myself to believe him good, if I even let my heart so much as peer past the wall I have built, that would be enough for me to unravel all the mending I have tried to do.”

  “But you must give him a chance.”

  “I told him I was leaving, and he did nothing to stop me.”

  “Of course he did not.”

  Caroline’s almost frustrated tone brought Hannah’s head around.

  “Do you think he would force you to do something you wished not to do?”

  “Well…I suppose—”

  “From what you say, it seems all he has done is bend to your will. You would go back to Eaton Hill, so he let you. You would scribe for Stockton, and he let you. You say you wish to come here after the ball—and he supports your choice. If you show no interest in him, he will not force himself upon you, Hannah. He never has.”

  Caroline’s words chafed, leaving a sore spot upon her conscience. ’Twas true. He had never forced her. She knew this as well as she knew everything else. Almost everything.

  She looked to the door, her spirit willing, but her mouth almost too weak. “I do not know if I have the strength to do it.”

  In a swift movement, Caroline tugged her cousin into the kind of embrace she hadn’t felt since the night Ensign passed. Pulling away, Caroline tilted her head, as she always did when she prepared to speak something wise. “You must sacrifice your fears, Hannah. You can only know the true freedom you seek when you are willing to give up what imprisons you.”

  Her voice wobbled. “But my prison is safe.” So much revealed in so few words, her own mind at last understanding her silence.

  Caroline cupped Hannah’s face. “I know. But once you do this you will no longer wonder. You will know. And no matter what happens in consequence, you will not ever wonder ‘what if.’” Her smile tipped slightly, and her voice softened. “Do you not think that God has given you this chance? That perhaps He has prepared more happiness in your future than you can ever imagine? Why not try it and see?”

  Like a breeze gently ushering away the shadows of high summer clouds, Hannah’s spirit stilled as the thought brightened through her. Had God arranged this? Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. Perhaps Caroline was right. God knew her better than she knew herself, did He not? Deep within her, this had been the wish of her heart—to see Joseph again. To have another chance.

  Lifting her eyes to Caroline’s, she blinked back the tears, her tone weak, testing the taste of the words before allowing them full voice. “Do you really think I should?”

  Confident, sure, Caroline’s pretty face bloomed like a summer blossom. “I know you should.” She grinned and took Hannah at the elbow, head inclined. “The shops are just opening. Why don’t we enjoy a bit of dallying before you return? You must be in need of some soaps and a ribbon for your hair.”

  Lip between her teeth, Hannah ruminated. “I should go back. ’Tis a wonder Joseph hasn’t come after me, and if I am out any longer…”

  “Nonsense.” Caroline put a finger to her mouth. “If we escape out the back door, my family will be none the wiser.”

  The way her cousin’s eyebrows pinched upward in the center, her lips splayed out in a silent plea, made a reluctant giggle bounce its way up Hannah’s throat. “Very well.” She whispered the last. “But I must leave no later than two in the afternoon. I wrote them I would be home before supper.”

  “Not to worry.” Caroline gave Hannah’s arm a squeeze, then reached for the door, her voice merry as birdsong. “You shall leave long before then.”

  * * *

  The short ride into town was made shorter still by the thrashing anxiety in Joseph’s limbs. Higley had said naught, his angular jaw firm as an iron bar.

  Higley slowed and angled his horse toward a two-story house at the edge of town and dismounted just as Joseph rode up alongside. Once on the ground, Anvil securely tied, Joseph stepped beside the man whose taciturn and evasive communications made the hairs on Joseph’s neck stand rigid.

  Voice taut
, Higley leaned slightly toward him as he neared the door. “Speak not unless you are spoken to.”

  Joseph nodded, praying they wouldn’t speak to him at all—and that God would hedge up the way of their enemies, allowing him and poor Willis a chance to go free.

  Higley entered first, striding in with bold steps. Joseph matched the man’s confidence, though his legs battled between strength and weakness. This could be a trap.

  The conversation was fully underway. Pitman’s slender face was scarlet as his coat. Stockton stood in the far right corner, arms crossed and eyes digging bayonets into Willis’s chest. Bound and bruised, Willis sat motionless in a chair in the center of the room. Reece stood at attention in the opposite corner, and several other soldiers dotted the small room, but ’twas more intimate and informal an affair than Joseph had expected. Most likely they wished to keep this from gaining public knowledge.

  The two majors looked up as they entered, expressions sharp as a blade’s edge.

  Pitman motioned with only the movement of his eyes for Higley to take Joseph to the back corner of the room. Higley strode to the rear, and Joseph followed, heightening all his senses. If he were to be attacked, apprehended, there would be no way to fight his way free.

  “I am slow to believe a common colonial in place of one of my men.” Pitman growled, indignation rumbling through the room. “Such a claim is not to be taken lightly, Plains.”

  Willis swallowed, his voice raspy, a sign he had likely been held at the throat, or worse, when captured. “I did not exchange letters with anyone, sir.”

  “You would like me to believe that Private Graves would fabricate such a story?”

  “No, sir. But if you would let me explain—”

  He coughed and swallowed again, the grimace on his face making Joseph’s anger boil. They’d beaten him, ’twas more obvious all the time. Joseph knew that type of pain, and it burned him to the center to think these men had done it to such a man.

  “You know we have been searching for an informant.” Pitman didn’t move, but his voice loomed through the room like a lion ready to pounce. “And now, I believe we may have found him.”

  Willis shook his head. “’Tis not I, sir. I give you my word. I was only—”

  “Ha!” Stockton strode forward, his face scrunched with hatred. “What man goes about after dark for a secretive rendezvous with another man?” He placed his hand on the back of Willis’s chair. “You haven’t any wife. Perhaps…perhaps you are that kind of man.”

  Willis jutted his chin. “I had a wife. You know that!”

  “Your word means nothing now, Plains.” Stockton released his hold but still strangled the man with his eyes. “Everything you have said, everything you have done, is a lie. You are a Patriot and a spy.” He turned to Pitman, voice cutting through the walls. “He deserves the noose, and now!”

  Pitman’s jaw moved back and forth, his own gaze unwavering from the man in front of him as he spoke to Joseph. “Mr. Young, come forward.”

  Joseph flung a quick glance to Higley, sure at any moment he would reveal his true name. Yet there seemed to be confidence in the man’s eyes, almost encouragement. Hurling aside the rest of his blithering fears, Joseph stepped past the soldier in front of him and stood beside Willis.

  Arms firm at his sides, he stood tall, gaze direct but humble, waiting to be spoken to before he opened his mouth. Lord, fill my mind with what thou would have me say.

  Pitman sighed and stepped back, allowing Stockton to take his place in the forefront.

  Boots clomping against the wood floor, Stockton took his place in front of Joseph, his sour breath searing past Joseph’s nose. “Tell me again about your encounter yesterday with Mr. Plains.”

  “My cousin and I arrived just before noon.” He met Stockton’s pointed look with one of his own before glancing past Stockton’s shoulder to Pitman. “He greeted us warmly and invited us in.”

  He stopped, the still, piercing voice of Providence trickling through his mind. The thought was quick and clear, and Joseph didn’t allow himself even a second to question it before he gave it voice. “We spoke only of the work, and he showed us the stash of weapons and lead beneath the floorboards of his parlor. He said my barrels were satisfactory, and we went on our way.”

  Stockton’s brow folded as he turned to question the soldier nearest the door. “Was there such a secretive stash when you searched the place?”

  The man shook his head. “No, sir. We saw nothing.”

  Whirling back around, Stockton hurled a bone-crushing look to Willis, then Joseph. “Explain.”

  Joseph’s heart crashed again and again into his ribs, though he restrained his voice, maintaining its calm. “Did your man pull back the rug? A hatch is underneath the rug in the center of the room, in front of the fireplace.” He paused, examining Stockton’s facial response before he continued. “Willis claimed the Patriots often suspect him, and he feared the stash being taken. Thus, he built a cellar for this purpose.”

  Stockton tossed a questioning look to the soldier behind Joseph. “Well? You said you checked the entire house. I assume you found such a stash.”

  The man cleared his throat. “Uh…we did not look there, sir.”

  “You did not?” Pretended kindness infused Stockton’s sound, heavy mockery in his understanding expression. “Well, ’tis difficult, I suppose, for one so daft to neglect such simple orders.” In a breath the act was gone and madness gripped his voice and stance. “Get out, Private Graves. I will deal with you later.”

  The soldier turned and stepped out the door. Stockton neared Joseph, his face only inches away. “Why would a man hide guns in his floor if not to evade our notice? Is he really so afraid of a few farmers? I don’t believe it.”

  Muscles solid, Joseph eased his fingers that wished to curl, his volume that wished to rise. “If I may speak freely, sir.”

  With a hard, hot breath, Stockton circled round, responding in favor with the quick raising and lowering of his hand.

  “As I stated, and is true, Plains is often questioned by those in town.” The answer came to him one word at a time, and whether it be true or fabricated, he didn’t know and could not care, only that it would be believed. “Storing such munitions in plain sight would be foolhardy and would invite far too many questions. You’ve asked him to store for you—what else is he to do? If the Patriots knew of the cache, they of course would seize it. If your soldiers knew of it, is it not likely they would reveal what they know in town where some active Patriot might overhear them?” Joseph’s chest pumped, his breath heavy and quick. “You have taken him in wrongfully.”

  Stockton flicked his head around, brow so hard he could have cracked the wall behind him. “You would speak to me in such a way?”

  Alive with rage, Joseph’s boldness swerved past the fear that should have been his safety. “I am interested in baring the truth, not in how you might interpret it.”

  Pivoting back to Pitman, Stockton kept his arms crossed. “What say you?”

  Expressionless as always, Pitman didn’t move. His eyes alone were blinking, his mind clearly sifting through the information, studying it over and under, backward and front.

  “Will you show us this stash?” Pitman’s sudden question was directed to Joseph.

  He nodded, stomach making rotations, turning slowly into solid stone. “Aye, sir.” He could only pray to heaven that the guns were still there and had not somehow been moved without his knowledge. “I am ready anytime.”

  “Good.” Pitman flicked a wrist to the soldier beside the door, then to the other in front of Higley. “You two, ready our mounts.”

  They nodded and strode out, leaving only the five of them in the too-warm room.

  Stockton neared Joseph, resting a hand on his shoulder, his conversation friendly and familiar, a dark contrast to his declaration. “If we find you have lied to us…” He patted Joseph on the shoulder with a smile. “I fear I shall have some terrible news to relate to yo
ur cousin come sundown.”

  Mouth stretched in a most unsettling smile, Stockton started for the door.

  Pitman motioned to Higley, who came to take charge of Willis. Standing, the man limped past, and Joseph stilled, clutched by his powerful stare. In the dark centers of Willis’s eyes, past the bruises and the sheen of the unknown, was courage—an unearthly fearlessness that flashed and exploded, hitting Joseph square in the chest, and his muscles seized.

  No matter what happened, their fight was not over. Nay, ’twas only just beginning.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Arm in arm, Hannah tugged Caroline out of the warm lavender-scented shop, spirit bright, shoulders stripped of the burdens that weighted her, at least for the moment.

  “I must be on my way.” She spoke the words but didn’t feel them.

  “Are you sure you cannot stay a half hour longer?” Caroline’s pleadings had taken Hannah’s short stay far beyond her allotted time.

  She glanced at the sky and squinted. Indeed it must be nearing supper. Good heavens. She should go before darkness sifted its gray over the road. Caroline pleaded with wide eyes as Hannah attempted to navigate the turmoil that raged like a foaming sea. She didn’t want to go back, and yet she did. There her heart nested, and not only because ’twas Eaton Hill.

  Hannah groaned aloud, the weight of her quandary halting her feet. “Oh, Caroline, I must go. I have stayed too long already.”