The Rogue's Redemption

by Ruth Axtell Morren

  Hester sat bowed down on the bench, her hands lying loosely in her lap. She didn’t know what to say, what to think. These things couldn’t be true of the man she knew. The man she’d given her heart to. But one glance at his bleak face told her it was all true.

  It was that very expression of despair in his eyes that touched her heart and eased the pain and shock of his confession. It gave her hope that he was a man desperately in need of forgiveness. Slowly she stretched out her hand toward him and touched his arm, striving with the light touch to show him he was not beyond redemption.

  But he moved away from her as if her touch burned him. “Don’t. Through these weeks of knowing you, the only thing that has kept me going is the knowledge that I haven’t dragged you down with me. Please grant me the illusion that I’ve exercised some long-hidden scruples where you are concerned.” His voice was a hoarse plea.

  She wanted with all her heart to comfort him.

  He stood and stepped away from the bench. “Go away from me, Hester. Run as far as you can!”

  She stood. “You’re wrong. You are not beyond hope. You’ve treated me honorably. All you need is to let the Lord know you repent of your past and He will grant you forgiveness.”

  He glared at her, his eyes dark and fearsome. “Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said? Leave me! Leave me and save yourself!”

  She took a step toward him, but he put up a hand as if to fend her off. She took an involuntary step back.

  He let his arm drop. “Goodbye, Miss Leighton,” he said wearily. Then he left her. She heard his footsteps echoing on the pavement. She brought her hand to her mouth to stifle her cry. The tears began to flow. He was gone. She knew she’d never see him again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Although Hester went to the park at the usual time the following morning and the one after that, Major Hawkes no longer came. She hadn’t expected him to, but still she hoped.

  She looked for him at all the society events she attended. Every time she spotted a bright red uniform jacket on a taller-than-average form, or a head of black hair, she stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck to get a better look, her heart beating with anticipation, but it always turned out to be someone else. Another dashing officer, but not as dashing nor as handsome as Major Hawkes.

  Although she’d known since he’d left Thistleworth that her love for him was hopeless, she couldn’t help falling into a despondency and a quiet sort of desperation as each day ticked closer to her departure. She read the Bible and prayed in earnest for the major’s soul, for the time that he would realize he was worthy of love and forgiveness as a being formed in his Creator’s image. She also asked God to do something with the feelings in her heart that refused to go away.

  Oh, Lord, purify this love. I know I mustn’t desire him as my husband…not in the state he’s in, but oh, God, I love him so much. How am I going to bear never seeing him again?

  She’d delve into the Word and seek the Lord’s strength, the way she’d been taught by her parents and her pastor and those elderly ladies of prayer whom she’d looked up to all her life.

  She found her greatest solace in Psalm 119. Blessed are the undefiled in the way, who walk in the law of the Lord…O that my ways were directed to keep Thy Statutes! With my whole heart have I sought Thee: O let me not wander from Thy commandments…. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. I have sworn, and I will perform it, that I will keep Thy righteous judgments.

  She had always loved God’s Word and wanted more than anything to continue obeying it.

  At breakfast, Hester picked at her eggs with her fork, as she’d done for the last three days. Her father looked at her over his newspaper, his eyes reflecting concern behind their spectacles. “You seem to have lost your appetite, my dear. What’s ailing you?”

  She moved the congealed egg around her plate. “Nothing,” she said scarcely above a whisper.

  He didn’t look convinced. “It would have nothing, by chance, to do with a certain redcoat, would it?”

  Her glance flickered up to her father’s. “What do you mean?” Was her heartache that obvious?

  The ruffle of his paper was the only sound in the room. He looked at the two servants standing at attention against the walls. “Please leave us.”

  When she was alone with her father, he said, “Are you sad because you must say goodbye to your attentive major?”

  She swallowed. “Yes. How—how did you know?”

  He shrugged, a twinkle showing in his brown eyes. “Because I care about you. He’s been ‘running into’ you in the park every morning, hasn’t he?”

  “Yes. We haven’t planned on it. It just happens.” Ned must have told her father. She looked into her porcelain chocolate cup. “He’s my…friend.”

  “I believe your ‘chance’ meetings have been innocent, at least on your part. I’ve trusted you to use good judgment. That’s why I haven’t forbidden you nor said anything until now.” He sighed deeply, sitting back in his chair. “I hope he hasn’t pressed you to become more than a friend.” His tone was ironic when he used the term friend.

  “Absolutely not.” She thrust her chin out a fraction. “In fact, he’s done quite the contrary.” She looked down, remembering all the self-effacing remarks he always made. “I would say he’s done everything in his power to convince me he is no good for me.”

  Mr. Leighton pursed his lips. “I see. It’s more than I would have given him credit for.” He fingered his unused silverware, aligning the utensils against the edge of the table. “I had him investigated.”

  Hester stared at her father, her mouth agape. “Papa, how could you do such a thing!”

  He dismissed her accusation with a wave of his hand. “Because I love you. It’s what I would do for any of my children or family members. Your Major Hawkes is no more than I supposed when I first talked to you about him.”

  “He’s a brave man, a decorated soldier—”

  He shrugged. “He may be all that. But he’s also in debt up to his ears and he shows no promise to make anything of himself now that it’s peacetime. Officers are in excess at the moment, so unless he gets himself appointed to some European court in some diplomat’s entourage, or gets himself to one of Britain’s far-off Colonies, there’s not much future for him here.

  “From the little I saw of him, he appeared spoiled and too handsome and charming for his own good. Look how he behaved in that whole rout debacle. He never showed the least remorse. No, my dear,” he ended with another sigh, “he’s not the man I would see you settle down with.”

  She looked at her plate. She’d always dreamed of having her father’s approval the day she fell in love with her future husband. It tore her heart apart to think there was such a divide between the two men she loved most. “Everything you say may be true,” she began slowly, remembering the major’s terrible confession. “But I love him, Papa. I see something good in him, something worth saving.” She looked across at her father.

  “We are all worth saving,” he answered gently. “Our Redeemer paid too high a price for any to be lost. But that doesn’t mean it’s your task to save the major, nor do I think he wants to be saved.” Her father spoke in that soft, kind voice he had always used when discussing something with her he knew would be difficult for her to accept.

  Her lips trembled and she could feel the tears welling in her eyes. She dashed them and pressed her mouth tight, hating herself for breaking down. She wanted to be able to discuss things sensibly with her father, to make him understand what she’d seen in her weeks in the major’s company. But now he’d only behold a sentimental young woman unable to see realistically past her calf love.

  She stood. “Well, you needn’t worry, Papa. The major has already said his goodbyes to me. We shan’t be seeing one another any more, and in a few days you and I will be on our way across the Atlantic, far from him.”

  “Hester—” her father began, but Hester turned away from him and headed to the do
or.

  “It’s all right, Papa. I shall be fine.”

  Once out the door, she ran out to the back to the mews, where she would meet Ned for their accustomed ride in the park.

  During her entire outing, she breathed in the smells of late summer and tried her best to impress every image in her mind. Memories of their early-morning rides would soon be all she had of Major Hawkes, and she didn’t want to forget a single image, a single word…the major’s teasing smile, the way he held the bridle of her horse when she dismounted, or spoke a gentle word to Royal, the elegant way he carried himself, his courtly behavior, so different from any man she’d ever met.

  Gerrit visited the London docks to find out which was Jeremiah Leighton’s ship. The Sally Ann. Must be named after his wife…Hester’s mother. He wondered briefly what that woman was like, the one who’d probably most influenced Hester to become the woman she was. Was she as true and faithful to her husband as Hester seemed destined to be to the one she’d eventually spend the rest of her life with?

  He shook aside the thoughts, his heart sinking afresh. After making a few inquiries he found out exactly when the ship was scheduled for departure. The day after tomorrow near dawn, with the tide.

  If he could just hold out until then, Hester would be safe. Every morning when he’d awoken at seven, he’d had to fight a battle with himself not to go to the park. Instead, he’d dressed—lying in bed was impossible—and headed directly for the parade grounds and begun his drilling exercises earlier than usual with the few men who were assembled at that hour.

  He’d ignored every invitation his sister sent him, her every note, knowing exactly what she was up to.

  Only two more days and Hester would be free of him.

  He turned and left Limehouse Dock.

  On the night before Miss Leighton’s departure, as soon as his military duties were over that day, Gerrit headed for the nearest tavern, as he had been doing every night since he’d found out the ship’s schedule.

  The only way he knew to keep away from Miss Leighton in his free time was to get good and drunk so he’d be in no condition to see her. He no longer tried to substitute another woman, terrified he’d prove another failure in that area.

  Edgar came by and sat down beside him. “What’s up these days? Rolled up more than usual that you have to hide out from your creditors?”

  He grunted into his tankard, preferring for him to believe that.

  “The boys are complaining you’ve become a bore. They miss the old Hawkes who wouldn’t back down from any wager.”

  He turned to his lieutenant. “What did we come back for?”

  Edgar stared at him until he understood his meaning and just shrugged. “The war is over. No one here at home will ever understand what it meant, but who cares? We’ve got one another. That’s all that’s important.” He gave Gerrit a slap on the back before turning to a passing serving girl. “Another round, d’you hear!”

  Hours later, Gerrit left the tavern. He wasn’t even drunk, having spent the last few hours passed out on a bench. He couldn’t even remember the evening behind him. He shivered in the predawn gloom. The sky was thick and gray and a fine drizzle fell.

  There’d be no sun lighting this morning’s eastern sky. Without meaning to, he headed for the river. He needed to check the course of the tide so he’d know when Miss Leighton’s ship was weighing anchor.

  He walked down the Whitehall Stairs to the river’s edge. The watermark was high so the tide wasn’t yet on the ebb. He took out his pocket watch. It wouldn’t be long now. With the morning’s sobriety, he could no longer run away from the reality of Miss Leighton’s departure. In truth, the fact hadn’t left him the entire evening.

  He stared at the leaden water, flattened by the drizzle. His life resembled that murky gray depth. Nothing but a dreary rhythm with no purpose.

  His gaze wandered eastward once again but he couldn’t see beyond the bend at Somerset House.

  Suddenly he turned and bounded back up the stairs.

  Hester leaned over the ship’s railing, watching the barrels and boxes being brought up the gangplank. What a dismal morning to be departing England. Raindrops plopped onto the dark Thames. The rain didn’t stop the activity on the quay, however. People crowded the wet stones; boxes and crates were piled high at the edge. Sailors shouted orders from the deck of the ship.

  Normally a ship’s departure would have excited her. She loved to watch them arrive and leave from the Bangor waterside. This morning the hustle and bustle only reminded her of the fact that it was her own leave-taking, which meant never seeing Major Hawkes again.

  Soon the tide would begin to recede. With each wave, her father’s ship would take her farther from these English shores. She watched the flotsam bob up and down on the black water. The cries of seagulls and the shouts of sailors filled the air.

  “It won’t be long now, miss,” her new maid said at her side. Hester looked over at the young girl named Meggy and gave a wan smile. Her father always visited the poorhouse and hired on both sailors and anyone else he saw fit and able, whose character he judged to be decent, before making his homeward journey. He promised them a fresh start and opportunities of land and employment in the new world, and never lacked for willing workers.

  Meggy was only about fourteen and seemed eager to leave London. A few weeks ago, Hester would have shared her feeling. Well, it would be nice having a friend on board ship. And in a few weeks, she’d see her family again and sleep in her own bed and breathe in the scent of her beloved fir and pine.

  Hester glanced once again at the crowd down below on the quay. Her heart jumped. Could it be? Or were her eyes playing a cruel trick on her?

  She peered hard through the rain toward the back of the crowd. He came into focus. The tall, rugged figure standing head and shoulders behind some bystanders. His dark cape hid his uniform, but his bicorne was unmistakable. She nearly cried out in her joy.

  He’d come! He’d come to see her after all! Hester grabbed up her traveling skirt and backed away from the rail in the direction of the gangplank.

  “Miss, where you be going?” Meggy called after her.

  “I need to go ashore,” she shouted behind her shoulder.

  “Oh, miss, we be leaving soon!” Meggy hurried after her. “You best not.”

  But Hester wouldn’t have been able to stop if the ship had already been in motion. “There’s time. I’ll be back in a trifle, I promise.” Without another word, she pushed her way past the sailors making their way on board, pushing large barrels before them. She was the only one going downward.

  Another voice—a sailor’s—shouted out, “Come back, Miss Leighton. Where’re ye off to?”

  “I’ll be right back. I see someone!”

  “Have a care or you’ll miss the ship!” another shouted after her.

  “I will. Tell Papa I’ve just gone down on the quay.” Then she ran the last half of the gangplank, ignoring any further warnings. When she got to the dock, she had to push through the crowd.

  “Major Hawkes! Major Hawkes!” He’d seen her and began pushing against the people toward her. She was panting by the time she reached him.

  At last! She stared up at him. In those few seconds she took in every inch of his features. The brim of his hat dripped with rain. His jaw was shadowed with the black stubble of his beard and there were shadows under his eyes, but his blue eyes were the same as always as they searched hers now.

  “You came,” she breathed. And then she was in his arms, not aware of who had made the first move, not caring, only knowing how wonderful it felt to be crushed against his damp cloak, his strong arms wrapped around her, her face pressed against his chest. She breathed in the scent of him, the dank fog, the salt sea, the remainders of tobacco from wherever he’d been that night, the damp wool. And she knew she’d never forget this mingling of scents.

  At last she separated herself from him just enough to look up into his face once more. That dear, beautifu
l face. Never had he looked so handsome to her, even though he looked a far cry from the polished officer she was accustomed to seeing. His eyes were bloodshot, she noticed, his unshaven cheeks haggard.

  “You came,” she repeated.

  He pulled a glove off one hand and brought it up to her face, stopping just short of touching her cheek. Finally his forefinger skimmed her skin so lightly she hardly felt it.

  “Yes. I…I couldn’t let you go…” He cleared his throat, as if he was having trouble with his voice. His lips twisted in a grimace of a smile. “I didn’t want you to think so badly of me…after all.”

  “I could never think ill of you,” she whispered, her heart so light it nearly floated. “Don’t you know that?”

  “I couldn’t let you think I didn’t care about you,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve never had a friend such as you.”

  He explored her cheek gently with his fingers as he spoke.

  “I’m glad. I knew you cared…a little,” she told him, her face leaning into his touch.

  His warm hand cupped her cold cheek at last. She closed her eyes, reveling in its warmth.

  “I care about your happiness,” he said in a low, rough voice.

  She opened her eyes and stared into his, trying to discern what he was telling her.

  “Some day, when you’re a little older…and happily married to some worthy young man and have lots of children at your feet, you’ll look back to this time and thank the good Lord that He saved you from this wastrel.”

  She was shaking her head as his meaning became clearer. He hadn’t come for her, but to bid her a final farewell. She could feel the tears filling her eyes and spilling over her cheeks.