Her father peered over the paper. “Where’s Jamie? I didn’t see him at the office this afternoon. I hope he wasn’t making a nuisance of himself down at the ship.”
“He came in a little while ago. I put him to cracking some walnuts for after supper.”
Her father nodded his head in approval and turned back to his paper. A short time later, when her mother rose to supervise things in the kitchen, Hester followed her. Together with their cook, Josie, and young Meggy, they finished the meal preparations. Hester helped Meggy set the table in the dining room, then went into the kitchen to cut the warm cornbread.
“The creamed cod is ready to be served, ma’am,” Josie told Mrs. Leighton.
“All right. Let me call everyone to the table.”
Just then, the front bell clanged. Her father entered the hall. “That’ll be our guest, right on time.” As Hester turned back into the dining room, he stopped her a moment, motioning to her mother and sisters to continue on in.
“You might want to answer the door. It’s someone you’re acquainted with.” Her father’s voice, instead of cheerful, was grim.
“Acquainted with?” Who could it be? She tried to remember the names and faces of the men who worked with her father, but she’d rarely been to his offices in London. The only one she’d seen daily had been Ned, and he sailed back and forth all the time.
Her father gave her a nudge. “Go on, don’t keep him waiting in the cold.”
She started, remembering how frigid it was outside after dark. “Aren’t you coming, too?” she asked, when she realized he hadn’t followed her to the door.
This was becoming more and more mysterious. Her father stood, still serious, in the doorway to the dining room.
She grasped the doorknob. Slowly she opened the door a crack, then a little wider. Gerrit stood in front of her, his face revealed in the lamplight. Gerrit! All the blood rushed from her head. Her eyelids fluttered down as the strength drained from her body.
“Miss Leighton!” As if from a great distance she heard his shout and then she knew no more.
Hester opened her eyes, blinking several times to focus. As she regained consciousness, she saw a ring of faces above her, all regarding her with anxious concern. She fixed her gaze on one face, the only face that mattered to her in that instant. He was real! She clutched at Major Hawkes’s coat front, drinking in the sight of him. He was looking at her with concern, and more. Her heart swelled.
You’ve brought him here, Lord. Oh, praise You! Praise Your name forevermore! Her soul sang with joy.
All around her, her family was asking questions.
“Are you all right?” Major Hawkes asked her softly, his hold on her strong and sure.
She nodded. “What happened?”
His lips quirked upward. “You swooned.”
How romantic! She’d never swooned in her life, she wanted to tell him, but remained silent, preferring to gaze upon his handsome features and bask in the concern she saw in his beautiful blue eyes.
“Hester, dear, are you all right?” Her father’s face hovered at her other side. She turned to see him crouched beside her.
“Yes, I was…so startled to see…” she turned back to the major “…Major Hawkes standing there.”
Her father’s face flushed. “I’m sorry, Hester. I should have told you. I didn’t realize you’d have such a shock.”
She scrunched her brows, trying to take in what he was saying. “You mean…you knew he was here?” Her gaze flew back to the major’s and read consternation in his as well.
“You didn’t tell her?” His voice sounded stern as he looked across at her father.
Her father ignored the major and answered her instead. “He showed up in my office today and I invited him to supper tonight.” Instead of explaining further, he said, “Here, let me take you—” He moved to put his arm around her shoulder, but to Hester’s delight, before he could do anything, the major tightened his hold on her and swung her up in his arms.
He turned to her mother. “Where can I lay her—is there a settee?”
“Yes, follow me.” She led them to the front parlor.
Hester could have told them all that she was quite capable of walking. Instead she laid her head against the major’s broad chest and listened to his steady heartbeat. She brought one hand up to touch him and felt his answering squeeze on her shoulder.
Oh, would that this moment lasted forever!
But then the major was setting her down and her mother and sisters were bringing pillows to put behind her head and a crocheted throw to cover her feet.
“What a peahen, Hester, to go and faint like that!” Jamie stood at the foot of the couch, but his eyes soon left her and focused on the major. “It’s you!” His voice turned from scorn to awe.
Her father turned his sharp eyes on his son. “Do you know this gentleman?”
Jamie blushed and looked as guilty as if he’d been caught stowing away on one of his father’s ships. “I—I—met him today as he was getting off the Katherine Marie.”
Major Hawkes took up the explanation. “Your son helped me get my bearings.”
Her father gave a curt nod, but Jamie looked at the major with eyes bright with admiration.
Assuring herself of Hester’s comfort, her mother now turned to the major. “Welcome to our home. My husband only told us we were having a guest for supper, and not that it was to be a friend of Hester’s.” She held out her hand. “I’m Sally Leighton, Hester’s mother.”
The major took off his glove and held out his own hand with a smile. “Gerrit Hawkes.”
“Major Gerrit Hawkes, lately from His Majesty’s army, the Coldstream Guards, I believe?” Her father’s tone was sardonic.
Hester could see the thunderstruck look on the faces of her family members. Her youngest sister, Adele, brought a hand to her chest as if they were all going to be shot momentarily. Katie looked utterly disbelieving. Jamie’s look of respect was turning into one of disgust.
“Just Mr. Hawkes,” he said in the silence, “I’ve sold my commission.”
Jamie was the first to find his voice. “You—you were a redcoat?”
“That’s right.” He answered quietly. “Before you ask me to leave your house, let me assure you I have no American blood on my conscience. I’ve only fought on the Continent.”
Jamie’s mouth worked as he tried to reconcile this new piece of information with his concept of redcoats. Hester’s heart went out to him, knowing what he must be experiencing.
“Excuse their…amazement,” her mother spoke with quiet dignity. “You must understand we’ve been invaded by the British, and for two years we watched them burn our ships and blockade our ports.”
He turned to her. “I understand perfectly. That is why, if you wish me to leave, I shall do so.” He bowed his head.
She took a step toward him. “If my husband has seen fit to invite you, then you are most welcome.” She turned to Hester. “If you’re feeling up to it, I suggest we all repair to the dining room before everything gets cold. Would you like me to bring you a tray, dear?”
Hester shook her head. “I’m perfectly fine now.” She turned to Major Hawkes. She felt shy asking him, but was not about to lose an opportunity to have him near her, when she hadn’t seen him in months. “Would you help me up?” She extended her hand.
He came to her side at once and took her hand in his warm one and helped her stand. Once in the dining room, he helped her into her chair, and her mother indicated that he should take the one beside Hester’s. Hester wondered what her mother thought of the major now that she was seeing him in person. Hester’s letters had been filled with him during her time in London.
When they were all seated, her father bowed his head and began to pray, “Heavenly Father, we thank You for giving us this day our daily bread. We ask that You bless this food set forth before us. Help us to be mindful of those without, so we may share our portion with them. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Hester glanced sidelong at the major and saw that he had followed her father’s lead to bow his head and close his eyes. She wondered how her less fancy home and plainer fare would compare to the grand houses of England.
The dishes were passed around as her mother made excuses for the food. “You must come for dinner some day. We eat very simply in the evenings. And I know the food has grown cold.”
“Everything is delicious,” the major hastened to reassure her. “After weeks of ship’s fare, I am doubly grateful for a home-cooked meal.”
Her mother smiled at him. “Well, you are welcome to dine at our house whenever you like.”
“Major Hawkes will begin working at the warehouse tomorrow.”
Hester swung her head from the major to her father and back again. When had all this been decided?
“Indeed?” her mother said. “How nice. Have you, like my husband in his youth, come to America to make a new beginning?”
“Yes, you could say that,” he answered softly, his gaze meeting Hester’s. She smiled at him, hope springing in her chest.
Jamie shook his head on the major’s other side. “I can’t believe you fought for the British.”
“I never fought against your nation. I was busy fighting to liberate the Spanish people from the French invaders.”
Her father put in from his end of the table. “We consider Napoleon a great man over here. Don’t forget France was our ally.”
“Many in Europe do,” Gerrit answered coolly. “Even in England he has admirers.”
“In the time he was in power, he did more than anyone to bring Europe out of the Dark Ages and spread the best ideals of liberty and equality of the French Revolution to the rest of Europe,” her father continued.
“I suppose my opinion is colored by the thousands left slaughtered on the battlefields across Europe. To think one single man is responsible for wiping out an entire generation of Europe’s manhood is quite…unimaginable, unless one had witnessed it,” Gerrit ended quietly. He took up his water glass and swallowed.
The table fell silent.
Hester longed to touch the major in some way, to let him know that her family would grow to love him the way she did.
“Hester wrote to me how helpful you were to her in London,” Mrs. Leighton said.
He gave Hester a sidelong glance, the familiar look of amusement deepening the hue of his eyes. “My sister was the one who did the most to introduce your daughter to London society. Miss Leighton did the rest.”
“Did you ever see Napoleon?” Jamie asked.
“No. He had left Spain by the time my regiment arrived. When we entered France, he was busy fighting in Russia. Then during Waterloo, I was busy defending an outpost.”
“What’s it like to face a column of the French?” Jamie persisted.
Knowing how skillfully Gerrit had always evaded her questions about the war, she was amazed to hear him answer, “It’s terrifying.”
“What regiment were you with?”
“I was in the first company of light infantry of the Coldstreams Guards. We were a flank company, which meant we would be at one end of the columns during an attack.”
Jamie kept plying him with questions which Gerrit answered. By the end of the meal, Jamie seemed to have overcome his aversion to a redcoat at their supper table in the greater reality of having a real soldier—an officer—fresh from the battlefield at his side, able to give him a firsthand glimpse of warfare.
Gerrit wondered if he’d have a chance to talk with Miss Leighton alone. After all that time without seeing her, to have been able to hold her in his arms, however briefly, had been blissful. But now he itched to sit with her and talk and see what his coming here meant to her.
Although she’d seemed to be happy to see him, new doubts began to surface. She seemed quiet at the dinner table. Her family, overcoming their initial shock at having a British soldier in their house, gradually grew at ease again. Jamie hammered him with questions of the war. Miss Leighton’s two younger sisters asked him about London society.
“Is Lord Byron as handsome as they say? Has the Prince Regent really refused to address another word to Beau Brummell since the dandy insulted him, calling him fat? Did you meet the Czar of Russia last summer?”
The youngest sister, Adele, began flirting with him. She was clearly the beauty of the family, with her thick honey-brown locks and long eyelashes, which she was soon batting at him. When the family left the dining room to assemble over coffee and tea in the back parlor before the fire, she usurped her older sister’s place and slipped down beside him on the settee. He looked with frustration at Hester who had to sit farther away.
“Tell me about St. James’s Palace. Have you ever been presented at Court?” the younger Miss Leighton asked him.
“Ages ago, before I obtained my commission,” he replied, his gaze trying to meet Hester’s.
“Did you see the king, or was he mad by then?” Adele leaned closer to him, her blue eyes wide in inquiry. She had pouty lips which she seemed to know how to use to maximum advantage.
Gerrit inched back a fraction. “No, I didn’t see him. He was spending most of his time at Windsor Castle by then. I was presented to Queen Charlotte and to the Prince Regent.”
“Is he as wicked as they say? Does he have a string of mistresses?”
“Adele, come help me pour the coffee.” Mrs. Leighton gave her youngest daughter a stern look.
“Yes, Mama.” She turned to him with an apologetic smile. “Excuse me, Major, I shall be right back.” With a flounce of her skirts, she rose and went to her mother.
Gerrit glanced at Hester, hoping she’d come to sit at her sister’s now-empty place. She returned his look and smiled shyly, but did not get up to join him. Her absence brought new doubts. Had he been wrong about how happy she’d seemed to see him at her door?
He continued to wait and hope, forcing his attention to the polite conversation at hand. However, when Hester had still not come to sit at her sister’s vacated place, Gerrit drained the last of his coffee and stood to bid them farewell. His body felt old and tired.
Mr. Leighton rose to see him to the door. Gerrit’s heart sank. He turned to thank his hostess for the meal.
Mrs. Leighton gave him her hand. “I hope to see you again, major. My invitation stands. Please come by any time for dinner or supper. We always have enough for guests.”
Bowing over her hand, he said, “Thank you, madam.” Before Mr. Leighton could escort him, Mrs. Leighton turned to her daughter. “Hester, could you please see the major out?”
“Yes, Mama.” She rose and came to him, her smile all that he could wish for. It lighted him in a place deep inside him.
Mr. Leighton cleared his throat. “You can report at the sawmill tomorrow morning bright and early. I’ll let the foreman know you’re coming.”
From the warehouse to the sawmill? Neither prospect sounded easy. Well, he hadn’t expected a life of ease in the former Colonies.
He followed Miss Leighton down the corridor to the front door, where she retrieved his coat for him.
“I still can’t believe it’s really you, here in my own house. I’m afraid as soon as you leave, I’ll wake up and find it’s all a dream.”
“I hope it’s a nice dream and not a nightmare.”
“How can you say such a thing? A nightmare was having to say goodbye to you in London and thinking I’d never see you again.”
He dared reach out and take one of her hands in his, relieved that she did, indeed, seem to care for him. Perhaps she hadn’t come to sit by him because she didn’t want to appear forward in front of her parents. “Hester—may I call you that when we’re alone?”
She curled her fingers around his hand and nodded. “I’d like it if you did.”
He didn’t ask her to call him by his first name. Above all, he didn’t want to compromise her in any way. “I realized after you left—” he glanced away “—that nothing remained for me in Englan
d. You were its only bright spot and when you’d gone, everything was all gray.”
When he risked looking her way again, her eyes were tender and filled with understanding.
“I came to America planning to work hard. I sold what little I had.” He gave an unsteady laugh. “I hope what they say about America is true, that a man can make his fortune here.”
“My father did.”
He nodded. “I may very well not be half the man your father is.”
She squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to measure yourself against my father. To each man is given different talents, and I have no doubt that you have many.”
“I thank you for your confidence in me. However, I don’t want it to be misplaced. I don’t want to promise you anything—nor do I want you to promise me anything.” When she made to speak, he put a finger to her lips. “There’s so much I would like to say to you—and to hear from you, but we mustn’t do so now.”
“My feelings for you haven’t changed, nor will they,” she said. Her eyes looked at him steadily, never wavering.
“That gives me hope. I know things won’t be easy in the coming months.” He looked down at their joined hands. “Your father was not happy to see me show up at his office. I’m sure he thought he’d seen the last of me in London. I have to prove myself to him.”
“Was my father very hard on you?”
He gave a crooked smile. “Let’s just say he’s hoping I’ll find the work too rough.”
“Don’t worry. When my father seems the toughest, that’s when he cares the most.”
“He cares about you.”
“I don’t deny that. But he also cares about your soul, Gerrit,” she said his name softly, as if making sure it was all right to use it. He said nothing, neither giving his approval nor withholding it. He wanted more than anything to hear his name on her lips, but he didn’t want her to put her faith in someone who might not be able to live up to her belief in him.
“Things will get better, I promise you,” she continued. “Beneath his tough exterior, my father has a good heart.”
He’d stick it out all right, he promised to himself. And not only to win Hester, he realized, but for himself. Leighton’s words had challenged him and he wasn’t one to walk away from a challenge. He’d had more than one military commander tougher than Mr. Leighton.
The Rogue's Redemption Page 22
