With his eyes alone, Willis looked to the window, then back to Joseph, his arms crossed and voice eerily low. “Were you followed?”
“Nay.” Joseph mimicked Willis’s volume. “I saw no one outside. Is the house being watched?”
Willis breathed in deep. “It was. But I haven’t seen anyone since noon.” At this he allowed his regular volume to resume, speaking in coded words. “I had hoped Pitman would keep a few soldiers stationed here as before. There are too many risks at having such a load in one place.”
“Indeed.” Joseph glanced to the floor, where beneath his feet rested the incredible stores, then to the wagon through the window. “We best hurry.”
Willis uncrossed his arms and strode to the door. “I owe you my life.” He swung it open, stopping long enough to hand Joseph a look that hailed of gratitude before he stepped outside. “If not for you…” He needn’t speak the rest.
Joseph clapped him on the back, keeping every comment he might have spoken behind the barrier of his teeth. The stars might be listening.
They moved the barrels in only a quarter hour, securing the last remaining muskets below the floor without so much as a clink of iron.
Willis dropped the rug back into place and gripped Joseph with a stare that chipped a corner of his courage. “Be careful. I’ve had a foreboding…an ominous feeling that refuses to leave me.”
“About tonight?”
Still they spoke carefully, saying so much more than their words. “I worry. They are everywhere.”
Joseph neared, inclining his head as he placed a hand on Willis’s shoulder. “Everything is planned to the moment. Worry not. You shall not be taken.”
“’Tis not for myself I have concern.”
The comment sat hard in Joseph’s gut.
Willis went on, his voice stringing tight enough to snap. “If tonight goes awry…you must be ready. She will need you.”
A chill dashed over Joseph’s skin. He must get Hannah from here as soon as possible. Though she was two miles away at the house in town where the evening’s gaieties were taking place, should the intended raid go bad, such a distance was still close enough to… A curse cut over his tongue. If only he could race there now and snatch her from that den of lions. But no matter how he wanted to, he couldn’t arrive until after the dinner had ended. Higley had insisted Joseph’s name would be on the list, but arriving then without an invitation would have him thrown out. Arriving during the dancing, when the wine was draining their sensibilities, would provide at least a measure of the cover he needed to take her to safety.
“I shall protect her—I promise you that.” Joseph dipped his head and stopped at the door before exiting. “Thank you, Willis. You have been a good friend.”
Willis didn’t smile, hardly spoke for the undercurrent of caution that swept through his tone. “God be with you.”
Quiet carried the words for a moment before Joseph could answer. “And you.”
He stepped away and patted the horse before bounding up to the wagon seat, his earlier anxieties colliding with his newfound worries.
Joseph bent and readjusted the lantern at the side of the wagon when the horse’s ears perked, a sure sign he heard someone—someone near.
“Who goes there?” Instantly straight, Joseph reached for the pistol inside his jacket, when a man stepped cautiously from the wood.
Joseph jumped from the wagon and rushed forward, his blood racing hard through his limbs.
The figure stopped at the edge of the trees, one hand raised, the other at his mouth.
The signal alone was enough to flick Joseph’s memory to light. He took several more steps, glancing left and right before whispering. “Nathaniel?” Stopping beside his friend, he gripped the man’s arm. “What in heaven’s name are you doing here?”
Nathaniel’s volume was nearly inaudible. “I thought I heard your voice.” He motioned behind him with his head. “Donaldson and I came before the others. We want to be sure what we are up against before we descend on Willis. He is ready?”
“Aye.” Joseph turned, looking to the home across the yard he’d just left. “I saw no one, though that means little. There is talk of one who might be preparing to do you ill. Where is Donaldson?”
“Around the other side.” From the wan light of the wagon’s lantern, Joseph could see Nathaniel’s jaw tick. “We will return again in half an hour to—”
“Are you mad?” Ire twisted through Joseph’s chest, and he pointed right. “You cannot come here again until you are in greater numbers. That barn is massive. There could have been a dozen soldiers in there, and you would have been walking into a trap—”
“Aye, but there aren’t, and we are not.” His silence scolded Joseph’s reprimand. “We do what we must regardless of the risks.”
“Do not balance your lives on such fragile luck.”
Nathaniel’s grin slid sideways, and he tapped Joseph on the shoulder. “There is no luck when God is at your side.”
Joseph huffed and shook his head, the comment wriggling down his conscience. Without God they would surely lose at this devilish game. All those he cared about were suffering from it. If anything were to happen to these men…to him…what then? His stomach lurched. It was too much. Dear Lord, help us all. I must get Hannah to safety.
“Where is Hannah?”
Nathaniel’s inquiry brought to life the chimera that ate Joseph from within. His mind was stolen away, and he stared toward the road. What was she doing? How was she doing? He thought of what he’d learned before she’d left. Her face had gone so white when she saw him…
“She is well?” Nathaniel neared, his brow plunging low. “Has anything happened?”
Joseph nearly laughed aloud, but he ground his teeth together. Had anything happened? Everything had. And nothing. His legs began to twitch. “We cannot stand here talking like mindless women.”
A rustling in the snowy wood axed their words, and they whirled toward the sound.
“Nothing and no one to be seen.” Donaldson appeared, his lungs heaving as if he’d been running. He nodded a quick greeting to Joseph before looking to Nathaniel. “Is all in readiness?”
“Aye,” Nathaniel answered.
“I must go.” Joseph lowered his chin and his volume. “And so must you. Your men will be awaiting your report, as Stockton will be awaiting mine.”
“Donaldson, go ahead.” Nathaniel’s clipped words said something Joseph didn’t care to hear. “I will be right behind you.”
Joseph knew that pointed look. Nathaniel wanted more out of Joseph, but he would have to pry open his jaw to get it.
Donaldson turned without so much as a parting look, his experience no doubt making him tread with far more caution than Nathaniel seemed keen on using.
“What’s happened?” Nathaniel neared. “I have known you long enough to hear the tension in words you haven’t spoken.”
Even in the blackness, Joseph’s vision nearly went red. Did Nathaniel believe that here and now he would—
“Is she untrustworthy? Has she been fooled to work for the other side? Is she—”
“Hannah?” He couldn’t be serious. “Nay. She is valiant as ever.”
“What then?” Nathaniel insisted. “There are concerns you have not voiced, and I must know what—”
“She had a child.” Joseph spoke through his teeth. He growled and turned away. “I just learned of it.”
Nathaniel’s question came slow and hesitant. “A child?”
Thinking of it was enough to drain the blood from Joseph’s head. He couldn’t reply. He needed to flee this moment and escape to the next occupation that would busy him.
Shaking his head, he found the strength to move his legs, and he hauled up to the wagon seat, then halted. Remaining motionless as the realities crawled over his back like demons, he let the sorrowful truths spill from his lips. “She never told me. I wonder if she ever would have if I hadn’t found…” His voice stopped, his mind at the spot
in front of the open drawer, the booties blinking up at him.
“Nathaniel?”
Donaldson’s quiet call brought Nathaniel full around. He glanced to the wood, then to Joseph, sympathy in the drop of his expression. “We shall speak more of this later. Our work begins. God be with you, my friend.”
He darted into the arms of the shadows, both his frame and his footfall being swallowed up in the blackness.
Joseph released a breath heavy with an imbalance of dread and relief. He flicked the reins, and the horse started, pulling Joseph into the vision of Hannah that wavered before him. He’d never seen her so pale. What would he say to her now? What would she say to him?
More, what other secrets did she carry in her heart, and how, if at all, could he tempt her to share them?
The pain he felt, though wrenching as any he’d known, ’twas nothing beside the knowledge that she had suffered such griefs alone. Above all, ’twas shame that beat him. He should never have accepted her father’s word. He should have written more than once, should have waited below her window every day and night until she was certain of his devotion, no matter how her father threatened.
Fool. Utter, worthless fool.
God willing, she would tell him all. God willing, at long last, she would trust him.
Chapter Thirty
Standing beside the far window in the ballroom, Hannah put a hand to her stomach and closed her eyes. Blessed, blessed solitude. The conversation at dinner had been engaging enough that her lack of appetite had gone unnoticed. Stockton had been in rapt attention with the officer and lady at his side of the table, allowing her a full hour in which she’d not had to speak with him. A tender mercy.
She breathed in deep through her nose, the floral notes of perfumes and colognes beginning once again to dance through the air, as did the voices of the guests as they filled the room. Outside the window was freedom, and it taunted her. Hannah gazed through the glass, her thoughts refusing to leave the place they’d claimed so many hours ago. What dread her future held if even such a gathering could not distract her. When she returned, what would Joseph say? How could she face him?
“You are looking well this evening, Miss Young.”
Hannah spun with a small gasp. “Captain Higley.” Grinning, she tried to act at ease, though somehow she feared her charade was as clear as the wine-filled glass in his hand. “Forgive me. I didn’t hear you…I didn’t know—” She cleared her throat and tried again, grateful a more dignified sound emerged. “Were you at dinner? I didn’t see you.”
He shook his head. “I had business to attend to. I’ve only just arrived. And please, do call me James.”
James. She’d forgotten ’twas his name. It fit him well. Yet she’d grown so fond of his surname she hadn’t the heart to discontinue the use of it.
“Quite a gathering.” He pivoted and gestured to the groups of threes and fours dotting the vast space.
His presence allowed her spiked nerves to dull their edges, and she breathed more freely. “Indeed.”
Taking a sip, he offered a handsome sideways grin. “I have yet to see such an estate as this outside of Boston.” His brow bent slightly, eyes keen, as if he were looking for someone before he turned back to her. “And in so small a town. Remarkable.”
“I agree.” Hannah’s tension eased from her shoulders at the welcome conversation he offered.
Again he took a sip and glanced from one side of the room to the other, allowing Hannah a long look at the missing section of his ear. It seemed to fit him—rough and harsh as it was—proof of his fearless soldiering nature. His red coat was pristine, every polished buckle and clasp reflecting the bright glow of the candles that surrounded them. For someone so tall, and of such a rank, he carried an easiness about him. Yet there was a cloaked alertness that never rested. His eyes ever watching, his spine ever straight.
“Oh, there you are, my dear.”
Dottie’s arrival signaled the end of Hannah’s blessed quiet.
Round and bouncing with exuberance, the woman seemed to gain in mirth as the evening wore on. “I was searching for you, and here you are.”
Higley tossed Hannah a smile, a single eyebrow bobbing as he stepped aside for the woman to come between them.
Her vision was planted at Hannah’s face. “You left dinner so early I was beginning to—Oh! Higley! My, my…how dashing you look. Doesn’t he look dashing?” Eyes wide, she lowered her chin at Hannah, expecting an immediate answer in the affirmative.
Hannah licked her lips, allowing herself a moment to mold a proper response before opening her mouth. “Captain Higley is most kind. And most handsome.”
The declaration she offered Higley was taken as she’d hoped—a friendly gesture and nothing more. He responded with a gentle grin before turning his attention fully on the woman who seemed intent upon matchmaking.
“Mrs. Pitman, what a hostess you are. I am sure I have never attended such a ball as this.”
Clever. He turned the conversation to her.
“And you have ordered such magnificent refreshments. This wine is extraordinary.”
“Oh.”
Dottie’s cheeks pinked, and she appeared more the smitten schoolgirl than a married woman as she giggled. Perhaps she had taken a bit too much of the wine already herself.
“Well, the music will begin soon, and I do think the two of you would make elegant dance partners.”
Hannah grinned and glanced away. She would be pleased to have Higley take her hand, though she could hardly be the one to second the suggestion. The thought of Stockton once again standing opposite her made her belly want to cast up what few bites she’d taken. He’d looked at her with such intensity the first few dances she could almost feel the touch of his stare on her skin.
“What do you say, Miss Young?”
Higley’s voice tempted her gaze back up, and for the first time that evening, she smiled with real meaning. There was knowing in his eyes, as if he had read the reluctance in her posture and wished to calm it. Relief massaged away the knots in her neck. What manner of man was he?
“Thank you, Higley. I would be—”
“Captain Higley, there you are.”
Hannah’s stomach rolled to her feet when Stockton strode through the crowd and joined them.
Higley bowed. “Good evening, sir.”
“Ladies.” Stockton grinned at them before aiming his glare at his captain. “Higley, there is someone I should like you to meet.”
He stepped aside, and Philo took the empty space, grin wide and feigned as ever.
What was he doing here? Bile crept up Hannah’s throat, and she grit her teeth, breathing carefully through her nose. Dearest Lord, I cannot endure yet another tribulation.
“This is Reverend Philo Young, Miss Young’s father.” Stockton turned to Dottie. “Do forgive me, Dottie. I took it upon myself to issue him an invitation, as I figured you would be—”
“Why of course! You know I do not take such things too seriously. The more there are, the more jolly a crowd.” Amiable as always, the woman curtsied. “You are most welcome.”
“’Tis an honor, Mrs. Pitman.” Philo flowed with charm.
Hannah fought the urge to laugh openly at his charade and nearly choked when he pinned his eyes on her. “Hannah, how lovely you are. ’Tis a joy to see you, my dear.”
Like a bird in a trap, there was nothing she could do but offer the kind of grace that was expected of a woman in such a place at such a time. “You are too kind.” Surely he caught the hurt that flung out with her words.
Philo straightened and twisted toward the dance floor. “Stockton was good enough to invite me, and I must say I was eager to attend. I see my daughter but little these days, and I crave any chance to be with her.”
Lies. Hannah shielded herself against their penetrating hurt, but the girlish yearning for fatherly love leapt out, as always. And as always, the barbs of truth cut. He didn’t care for her, no matter how she craved it.
>
“Think nothing of it.” Dottie moved forward, stopping just beside him. “I adore your daughter and see why you would wish to be near her. Now if you will excuse me, I should like to see about the musicians. They should have begun to play by now.”
“I shall go with you.” Hannah hurried forward, unwittingly brushing shoulders with her father as she passed him. Though she didn’t look, she could feel his stare and wished she could shove it away with a glare of her own, but she resisted. Taking the woman’s arm, Hannah exuded more geniality than she felt. “I should be most pleased if you would introduce me to the players.”
The comment widened the woman’s eyes, and she seemed almost exuberant at the simple request. “Certainly, my dear. You know, I first heard these musicians while I was…”
Dottie kept on, but Hannah’s hearing faded to low throbbing sounds. The clomp of her shoes on the floor seemed almost louder than the din of voices clamoring through the room. Her father? Here?
It could not be borne.
Why had he come? Why had Stockton invited him? She thinned her lips to keep from scowling. There was more than simple fatherly sentiment that lurked in his self-serving will. This had to do with Eaton Hill, no doubt. And his hatred of Joseph. A revolt began in her belly, and she grit her teeth to keep the sensation at bay.
Dottie looked her way with peaked brows, obviously having asked a question Hannah hadn’t heard. She nodded, hoping the response was requisite, and when it seemed so, she braved a glance behind her. The three men conversed, her father with his back to her.
If she could avoid him all evening, and by some divine intervention Stockton as well, she could perhaps endure the night and make it to the heartache that awaited her at Eaton Hill.
* * *
Philo watched her go, fleeing from him as if he were a leviathan and she an innocent seraph. Of course she would see him thus, and it stabbed in a way that a cold blade could not. Despite what she believed, the deepest yearning of his spirit was not so self-seeking. Not entirely.
So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 4) Page 29
