Brides of Virginia

by Hake, Cathy Marie

  Anna continued to look up at her sister. Tears streaked down her cheeks. “Please take me back inside.”

  John swooped to snatch her out of the chair, but she quailed away. He regretted the fact that the truths he spoke went against her wishes. Still, he’d rather be the one to upset Anna than to have her feel Emily was betraying her. He strove to speak to her in his mildest tone. “Anna—”

  “No,” she whispered in a tearful tone. She stopped even looking up at her sister. Her head drooped as her shoulders shook with sobs. “No.”

  Emily knelt next to her sister and gathered her in her arms. Anna’s weeping tugged at John’s heart. He looked helplessly at Emily. She cupped Anna’s head to her bosom and rocked her as if she were no more than a tiny lassie. He watched as Emily swallowed hard and blinked back her own tears. Yet, in the midst of the emotional tumult, she still managed to be sure the babe was in no danger of falling out of his mama’s lap. How many problems can this one small woman juggle? How many burdens can she carry?

  “We’ll make it through, our Anna. Aye, we will,” Emily promised in a voice thick with tears.

  John stood over them and waited a moment. Surely, after the new mother had a few moments, she’d regain her composure. He’d heard women often did considerable crying in the weeks following a birth. He’d give Anna a chance to calm down. With Emily’s tender ministrations, he felt certain she’d regain her composure. Minutes stretched. John realized he’d made a grave miscalculation.

  Emily looked at him. Her eyes held fathomless sorrow. Deep inside, John felt something shift. At that moment he’d give all he owned to take away the ache in her heart.

  In a soft, despairing tone, she said, “It would be best if you left us now, sir.”

  John paced away. For a moment he tried to tamp down his emotions. The practical side of him argued with his involvement in this whole mess. He’d done his best by them—providing shelter, warmth, food, and medical care. What more could he do?

  Then he glanced back. Every logical excuse sank like an anchor. Anna, tiny little Anna—still thin as could be, so weak she couldn’t even walk on her own. She was barely more than a child. She’d been swindled out of her innocence, robbed of the simple joys a young bride usually enjoyed. No matter who had fathered her babe, she didn’t deserve to endure this.

  Even more, he looked at Emily. Originally the woman had acted as prickly as a currycomb, but they’d worked past that. Day after day she’d welcomed him into the cottage, invited him to share their meals, and listened to his comments about work. He’d never before found a woman who was blind to his windblown hair, calloused hands, and rumpled, end-of-the-workday clothes. He’d given them a dwelling, but she’d turned it into a home—and warmly opened the door to him. He knew she was grateful, but her reception went beyond that. She didn’t look at him and see wealth or power; she saw the sometimes lonely man who split his life between polished society and coarse seamen, and she accepted both aspects without reservation.

  He watched as she used that same unconditional love with her sister. Finally Anna calmed down. Emily gave her a gentle squeeze.

  Emily normally wore an odd, plain muslin apron that looked like a length of cloth with small ties at the sides and a hole in it for her head. She pulled it off and tied it to form a sash, then carefully tucked the babe in it. John sucked in a sharp breath. He’d never seen the condition of her gown. It was several sizes too big, and even careful stitching couldn’t hide the fact that the bodice had been torn badly.

  He watched her rise and oh so carefully lift Anna upright. One arm held the babe securely as the other wound about Anna’s feeble form. Each step they took was an effort. Finally he could bear it no longer. The gravel of the path grated beneath his boots as he strode back to them.

  He silently nodded to her, then presumed to stoop and gather Anna into his keeping. He said nothing but took her around the house, across the lawn, up the stairs, and back to her bedchamber. All of her weeping had left little Anna docile and limp. John felt an odd flash of gratitude that in such a state, she wouldn’t realize how desperately she’d needed this basic assistance.

  John stopped at the bedchamber door for a moment and stared at the bed. The blankets and sheets looked smooth, crisp—folded with military precision so one side lay open to give welcome to a weary woman. Practical, efficient little Emily must have done it when she came in for those few seconds to fetch the babe.

  John paced to the bedside. His boots made a ringing noise on the plank floor. Emily followed on his heels. Her silent tread surprised him until he realized she was barefoot. At that realization he wanted to roar. Had he ever seen her wear shoes? He strained to remember, and he seemed to recall a battered pair of boots. Emily continued to wrap the babe in her cut-down blankets, too. He’d been a fool not to consider that they all desperately needed clothing.

  Emily paused at the drawer for a moment and settled Timothy in it. She drew a blanket over him, then briskly tugged the hem of Anna’s threadbare gown down before whisking the covers over her. John stepped to the side and watched as Emily’s rough hand sweetly smoothed back Anna’s hair. Softly she crooned, “Sleep now, our Anna.”

  Anna fell asleep with the speed only a child or an invalid might. Timothy started to fuss, so Emily took him from his makeshift bassinet and carried him into the kitchen. John watched in silence as she managed to warm some milk, add molasses, and slowly spoon it into her nephew. She displayed no awkwardness with the task. Clearly she’d been doing this for days.

  “I’ll hire a wet nurse.”

  She looked at him and shook her head adamantly. “No. Anna still has some milk. I’m able to fill in the rest by doing this. ‘Twould break Anna’s tender heart to know another woman took over suckling her babe, and I cannot do that to her.”

  “Emily, blame me for not letting you leave. As for the Cormorant … she’ll not return for several months. Anna won’t …” He cleared his throat.

  Grief streaked across her face. She sighed deeply. “She won’t have to face him again.”

  “You will though.”

  “That’s a bridge I’ll cross later. If I catch that rogue, I’m not sure what I’ll do.”

  A wry smile twisted John’s mouth. “You’re too moral to commit mayhem or murder. If you catch that scoundrel, you’ll probably serve him a hefty slice of your mind, then dash straight off to church to pray for his pitch-black soul.”

  She brushed a few errant curls away from her forehead with the back of her wrist. “A blacker soul there never was.”

  John watched her shift the infant a bit. The prominent seams taken to repair the rip in her clothing no longer lay hidden by the babe’s blanketed form. Though he dreaded hearing the answer, John still demanded, “How did your gown get torn?”

  “’Twas torn when I got it.”

  “I’m not sure whether to be relieved or angry about that.”

  Emily shrugged. “It doesn’t much matter. I’m handy with a needle. Do you know any of the local dressmakers or milliners who might need a worker?”

  “If you appear wearing that, they’re not going to hire you. What else do you own?”

  A bright blush stained her cheeks.

  His brows furrowed as he strained to recall the night he’d demanded they pack and come away with him. “Duncan has a change of clothes. Anna’s always in her nightdress. I’ve seen her in two different—” He paused midsentence as he realized Emily probably wasn’t sleeping in a night rail. She’d given hers to Anna!

  Emily turned away and busily twitched an imaginary wrinkle from the corner of Timothy’s blanket.

  “How many day gowns does Anna own?” Just as surely as he knew his own name, John knew Emily would have the same number or fewer than her sister. He waited grimly for an answer.

  “Two.” Emily lifted her chin as she answered.

  “I trust they’re in better condition than the one you’re wearing.”

  Emily’s lips thinned into a straig
ht line. She spooned another bit of milk into the babe and gave no reply.

  “Answer me.”

  She continued to feed the babe. Her voice went brittle. “You asked no question.”

  John pulled out a chair and sat across from her. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so defensive if he didn’t tower over her. Certainly, this matter needed to be discussed so he could determine their needs. He should have done so from the start. John waited a moment to let her get accustomed to his nearness, then softened his tone considerably. “Emily, I meant you no offense, and out there—I wasn’t trying to be cruel to Anna.”

  “I know.” She shot him a fleeting glance. “You spoke the truth, and as much as it shames me, I’m just as glad you did so I didn’t have to.” She said nothing more.

  John let silence hover and hoped she’d hearken back to their conversation. She didn’t. He finally pressed. “I didn’t mean to upset you just now, either—asking about your clothing.”

  She continued to feed the child in silence, carefully drizzling milk from the spoon into little Timothy’s tiny pink mouth. Precious little dribbles, patiently given, marked the passage of tense moments. Finally she spoke, but she didn’t look at him. “If I’m embarrassed, it’s my own fault. This whole mess is my fault.”

  “How could any of this possibly be your fault?”

  “Because I was a fool to allow my sister to be beguiled by that monster. I hold myself to blame. Aye, I do. Edward Newcomb was a handsome man. Too handsome. Smooth, his charm was. Silver-tongued, too. I listened to him and fell for his lies as much as Anna did. Never did I suspect he would tell us a pack of lies.”

  She looked up at him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. “The Edward Newcomb who courted and ruined my Anna isn’t so broad across the shoulders as you, and his dark hair defies discipline instead of obeying a comb as does yours, but he shares your strong chin. Then, too, his eyes are the same shade as yours—one I’ve not seen before or since. ’tis like the color of tea left to steep fully.”

  John listened without interrupting. That description lined up too closely with Edward’s character and appearance to leave him comfortable.

  “He didn’t wear clothes so fine as yours.” She dipped her head and resumed feeding the babe. Her hand shook as she manipulated the spoon to coax the little one to take more nourishment. “He had quite a few garments though. Once, when he tore a shirt, he cast it to the corner. We cut it down for Duncan and got a shirt and a few handkerchiefs from it.”

  John stayed silent. He sensed she wasn’t finished speaking yet, but he couldn’t understand where the conversation was going. He’d asked about her clothing, not about the rogue who ruined her sister. He bided his time and let Emily control the conversation. Her hands stayed busy, spooning in the milk, wiping the baby’s chin.

  “Edward made promises. He brought our Anna a ring and produced a man of God—one in vestments who carried a Bible and a missal. Anna’s eyes were bright with love light, so I stood there and let her pledge her heart to that rascal. Only then we likened him to one of those princes in a fairy tale. We never suspected the truth.

  “Looking back, I know I should have guarded my sister better.

  ’Twasn’t a church wedding, but I overlooked that because we were both wedging the ceremony in the few minutes betwixt our shifts of work.

  “Edward told us he had no family—none a’tall. His da perished at sea, and the rest of them died when their house caught fire. He said he’d missed being part of a family. He’d supposedly sold all he had in the whole world to buy the Cormorant, so he was living aboard the vessel in the captain’s cabin. He said ‘twas bad fortune to have a woman aboard a sailing vessel. Because of that, Anna stayed with Duncan and me.

  “Edward brought fish for supper often enough. Proud she was of him, our Anna was. Her man could put food on the table. Each time he docked, he brought coal—but only enough to last for the nights when I went to work and Duncan got shoved over to our neighbor’s. There never seemed to be sufficient money to buy us wood or coal, but Edward gave Anna a pretty little trinket every now and again.

  “He had grand plans, he did. Promised Anna a fine home of her own—one with stairs and a maid and gowns aplenty—all of them beautiful enough for a princess.”

  Her voice shook as she added, “But he never so much as gave her a dress length of fabric or a bit of yarn so she could knit herself anything at all. He might have put a bit on our table, but he didn’t keep a roof over our Anna’s head for a single night or put a stitch of clothing on her back.

  “He’d be gone for a voyage and return, and she’d be so happy to fall into his arms. We all prayed for each voyage to be successful, for him to be safe, and for the Lord to bless the business so he’d become a good provider for our Anna.

  “Fish we’d eat—and he’d mourn that the voyage hadn’t brought him enough profit to do more than pay back a little more of the hefty loan the bank held on the Cormorant. Even so, we kept faith in God and in Edward’s best efforts.”

  John sat back in his chair and listened grimly.

  Emily drew in a shaky breath. “That last time, I stuck my nose into their marriage. Getting sick most every sunrise, our Anna was, and we were sure of the reason. I got home early in the morning, and Edward sat there, staring at her like she’d told him his boat had run aground. She didn’t even have to speak the words. He’d guessed it right quick.”

  John dreaded what she’d say next, but he held his tongue and let Emily finish the heartbreaking tale. She needed to unburden her heart, if only for a moment.

  “Edward didn’t seem happy in the least about becoming a father, and Anna cried over his sour attitude. But he told her ‘twas only because he’d hoped to have that splendid house for her before they started in on having babes.

  “I nosed in then. I told him Anna didn’t need a palace; she needed a warm cabin. He needed to stop dreaming up grand schemes for a day far into the future and care for his bride here and now. They could always change up to something better, but in the meantime he needed to start providing for her.” Her voice dropped to a chagrined whisper as she confessed, “I told him he’d been having all the pleasures of a husband without assuming the responsibilities.”

  “You spoke nothing other than the truth, Emily. How long had this been going on?”

  “The end of autumn and all of last winter.”

  “Four months!” John couldn’t bear to sit through the tale any longer. He had to hear the rest, but he stood and paced over to the window. He shoved his hands in his pockets and clenched his jaw. He’d been to their shanty—in autumn, not winter—and the cold had been unbearable.

  Emily fell silent. He stared at her faint reflection in the window. “You needn’t fear me, Emily. I’m not judging you as a shrew at all. I don’t know how you tolerated him that long. The circumstances were desperate, and you did what any sensible woman would.”

  “I’m not so sure of that,” she confessed thickly. “Edward brought coal that night and set sail the next day. He’d told Anna earlier that he planned to be home for a whole week. I drove him away with my bitter words.”

  John wheeled back around. “No, Emily. I won’t have you saying such a thing. Your words made no difference—this Edward was a blackguard. The minute a man of his ilk discovers his woman is with child, he decamps. If you’d have never said a thing, he’d still have abandoned her.”

  “We prayed for him and his ship every day. Aye, we did, and all of us worried the Cormorant might have gotten damaged or run aground—or worse. So many months passed without a word.”

  “And that’s common enough, so you waited patiently,” he filled in.

  Emily nodded. “After he’d been gone a long while and things were getting bad, Anna acted so very brave when she parted with the wee gifts he’d given her. Every last one ended up at the pawnshop. She said ‘twas like Edward had given her a way to take care of the babe she carried.
”

  He groaned. Anna’s love had let her hope and dream that her husband would come back. Emily’s guilt made her assume she’d driven the man away. Neither of these innocents understood in all of those months that they’d been deceived, betrayed, and abandoned.

  Emily swallowed hard. Her lips quivered as she said, “My sister had nothing left at all, John Newcomb—not a thing but a wedding ring and empty promises. I needed to make every last cent count. ‘Twas more important to buy milk and coal than it was for me to have another gown. So you see, I deserve no more than I have.”

  “I deserve no more than I have.” Her words echoed in his head. John wanted in the worst way to quiet that aching confession. It kept repeating over and over, haunting him. She’d said she was coming up on nineteen. It sounded older and more responsible that way—but that meant she was eighteen. She’d been seventeen and Anna had been sixteen when a dashing sea captain took unpardonable advantage of their naiveté. Emily shouldn’t punish herself for not knowing better.

  Ah, but she would. She’d feel responsible; she’d hold herself accountable for anything that tainted the lives and hearts of those she loved. Under her crusty, brave front, she hid a heart too tender to believe. The sacrifices she’d made defied words.

  John gently cupped her nape and thumbed delicate spiraling wisps of her beautiful, fiery hair. “Emily, you’re worthy of a wardrobe full of fine gowns and a box full of jewels. You cannot punish yourself for what happened. The blackguard had a tainted soul and took sore advantage. Life brings tragedies, and this surely rates among them; but stop faulting yourself and chart a new course in life that will bring some happiness back into your heart.”

  She set aside the spoon, lifted wee Timothy to her shoulder, and patted his back. Without sparing an upward glance, she whispered, “You ask me to look past today. I cannot. The future holds too much heartache.”

  “Oh Em,” he said softly. He watched her shudder and gulp back a sob. He tilted her face up to his. “We’ll make sure Anna is happy and comfortable.”