Honor Redeemed

by Christine Johnson

  That miscalculation led to the inexcusable blunder. She had every right to walk away. He’d been consumed with his own agonies and never once thought of the bold grace she’d extended before women who would flay her reputation. What a cursed idiot he was!

  The hostess, a dark-haired, arrogant woman, stopped Prosperity for a word. The woman’s glance in his direction and satisfied expression suggested she’d congratulated Prosperity for walking away from him. Deserved humiliation heated his neck.

  He straightened his spine and walked back toward Captain Dutton, who looked annoyed that he’d been left alone with the mayor. Yet another miscalculation. The captain had counted on him to calm the mayor, but how could David calm anyone when he couldn’t manage a simple conversation with the woman he loved?

  He passed a group of ladies huddled together in deep conversation.

  “. . . a colored baby,” one lady whispered none too softly. “Scandalous, but what can one expect when marrying that type of woman?”

  The insult struck with the force of a musket ball. Anger flared like lit gunpowder. David clenched his fists, but responding would only bring worse condemnation. Turn the other cheek, Jesus had instructed, but David’s every instinct urged him to defend his honor. Yes, he had made a bad choice, but he had done so with honorable intentions. He did not know of her duplicity. Though he longed to explain, honor forbade sullying the reputation of the dead.

  So he focused straight ahead and passed the group with haste. Still, he could feel their pitying gazes upon his back. He stood a bit taller. Like any good soldier, he had learned to build walls between his personal life and work. Emotion had no place in the life of a soldier. Reckless emotion ensured death. David must not fall to the enemy today. He focused on joining his commanding officer.

  Captain Dutton broke off his conversation with the mayor long enough to cast an urgent look at David. It was not a plea for rescue but instead hinted that something serious had happened. David’s thoughts immediately leapt to the fort.

  Upon his arrival, the mayor was asking what additional problems to expect. David wasn’t aware of any problems that impacted the civil authorities.

  “As I stated earlier,” the captain addressed the mayor, “Lieutenant Latham is in charge of the day-to-day details of the construction. He will answer your question. Lieutenant, meet me in front of the house as soon as you finish. We have business to address.” He then bowed out of the conversation.

  David fought back his curiosity and did his best to concentrate on the question, but Prosperity stood directly in his line of sight. She did not lift her gaze to him. Instead she placed her hand on the doctor’s arm. A twinge of regret hit his already battered heart. His idiotic responses had driven her to the man. The doctor led her onto the same paths David had just walked.

  “Pretty girl,” the mayor mused, his gaze following Prosperity, “if plainly dressed.”

  David hadn’t noticed her gown. Even if she wore sackcloth she would shine brighter than any other woman. Prosperity’s beauty did not lie on the surface but shone from deep inside. He had never seen another woman who could compare. Yet the mayor did draw his attention to the fact that she was wearing gray instead of mourning black. Had she already transitioned from full mourning? He tried to calculate the weeks and failed. “She lost her mother in April.”

  “You know each other?”

  David would never reveal the depth of the attachment to a stranger. “We are both from Nantucket.”

  “Ah. An islander, then. It must resemble our fair isle in some respects.”

  “Yes, sir.” To direct the conversation away from Prosperity, David asked the mayor what concerned him about the progress at the fort.

  “I understand you ran into some construction problems,” the mayor said. “Will you need additional labor?”

  That was all? At first glance, Captain Dutton’s discomfort made no sense. Then David considered the ramifications of bringing in more men from outside the island. Many in Key West hired out their slaves to the public project. In return, they received their men’s wages. An influx of hired labor from the mainland might displace those Negroes, especially during times when supplies dwindled and work slacked.

  “I haven’t received any word that additional men are required,” David said delicately. “The current labor force is keeping up quite well.”

  “What do you say about the rumors that men will be sent here from Fort Jefferson now that funding has dried up for that project?”

  David was woefully unprepared to debate appropriations or the movement of men. He’d been so preoccupied the past few weeks that he hadn’t heard about the stoppage at Fort Jefferson. He glanced toward the house, where Captain Dutton paced on the rear veranda.

  “I shouldn’t keep the captain waiting.” It was the only excuse he could muster.

  The mayor looked displeased. “You can’t tell me what will happen, then?”

  “If Captain Dutton does not know, then I certainly do not. I’m sure that he will keep you apprised of any changes in the quantity of laborers needed for the project.”

  The man’s mouth ticked. “Well then, I suppose we must leave it at that.”

  “Yes, sir.” David bowed and departed before the man could think of another unanswerable question.

  By that time, the captain had made his way through the house to the street. Judging by his pacing and furrowed brow, whatever had happened was of grave importance.

  At David’s approach, he halted. “We return to the garrison.” He took off at a brisk walk.

  David followed, doing his best to match the captain’s strides. Though he longed to ask what had happened, he must wait. The captain would speak when he was ready.

  When they reached a quiet street, the captain slowed his pace. “Command suggests you find other lodging for your infant.”

  The statement slapped David with the force of an anvil. What had happened? Had the colonel or captain overheard the whispered slurs and decided to act? That wasn’t like his commanding officer. No, this decision sounded like Colonel Stormant’s doing. His wife had acted much more aloof since the birth. “Are you suggesting I live outside the garrison?” He had no idea how he could afford to let a house or rooms that would allow for an infant.

  “You might consider settling the child with its nurse for the time being.”

  David’s insides knotted. “May I ask why, sir?”

  This time the captain looked him in the eye. “Fever. I received a report this afternoon that Ambleton’s wife has taken ill. Fever. Possibly yellow jack. The surgeon wants to take all precautions.”

  David felt sick. Georgina Ambleton had been among the wives who visited his quarters the night Aileen died. “Shouldn’t the baby be under the surgeon’s care?”

  “Dr. Rangler has no experience with infants. You would do better with a local physician, should the need arise. Moreover, there is the problem of nursing the child. The army hospital is not equipped to deal with that, especially if this incident turns contagious.”

  “Others in the garrison are ill?”

  Captain Dutton’s expression was grim. “We are attempting to prevent this from spreading to the men, but you know how easily the fever touches newcomers.”

  David caught his breath. Prosperity. She too had spent time at his quarters the night Aileen died. If the contagion had gotten into the air there, she might fall ill. Since this was her first time in the tropics, she was particularly susceptible.

  Someone needed to warn her. David’s gut clenched. Would she listen to him?

  Clayton basked in the satisfaction that Prosperity had not only left her unfaithful fiancé but that she had accepted his own offer to show her the flora on the same garden path. At first her attention drifted, but once the lieutenant left the garden, she listened to his description of each plant and tree with great interest.

  “What is poisonwood?” she asked when he commented on the use of gumbo-limbo bark to counter its rash.


  “A tree that is very similar to your poison sumac. Every part is poisonous to the touch, but rest assured that there are none in town.” He noted with pleasure the lightness of her touch on his elbow. “They may be found in the wild parts of the island and on the other Keys.”

  “Then I shall not go there.”

  He smiled at her practical if overly cautious solution. “I could show you how to discern them should you ever find yourself exploring the wilderness.”

  She laughed then, her light hazel eyes sparkling in the sun. “You need have no fear of that. I prefer the town.”

  “Not a quiet shore?”

  The idea must have tantalized her, for she hesitated. “Would you show me that quiet shore?”

  His pulse beat faster than it had in many years. “Of course. We shall plan a picnic and make a day of it.”

  She nibbled her lower lip, a sure sign something had vexed her. “But would it . . . that is, I wouldn’t want to feed the gossips.”

  “We shall invite a group of friends. Perhaps the O’Malleys and the Cunninghams.”

  Naming her friends and acquaintances wiped away the concern. “Then do plan this picnic.”

  “Perhaps Captain O’Malley might take us to a neighboring Key,” he mused, “such as the Marquesas. The Dry Tortugas would be too far.”

  “Tortugas?”

  “Named for the turtles that nest there. Dry because there is no source of water other than rain. If not for the building of Fort Jefferson and the lighthouse, no one would live there.”

  She puzzled over that a moment. “If there is no water, then how can anyone survive?”

  “Cisterns, my dear, the same as they have here. Have you not noticed how rainwater is collected and funneled off roofs into deep cisterns?”

  “Broken cisterns,” she mused.

  “I would hope not.”

  She smiled softly. “That is from the book of Jeremiah.”

  “Ah.” He looked away, uncomfortable with her mention of the Bible. He had not opened one since his wife’s passing. He could not believe in a God that let the good and the innocent die. Science gave solid answers. Science would succeed where religion failed. “I am not familiar with that passage.”

  She gasped. For a moment he thought his response had distressed her, but then he noticed that her attention had flitted to the street.

  “I wonder where he is going in such a hurry.”

  Clayton spotted the lieutenant. Annoyance floated to the surface. Would she never give up this fruitless pursuit of a man who did not deserve her? “Doubtless duty calls.”

  His dismissal did not appear to ease her concern. First a frown settled. Then she slipped her hand from his arm. “I should inquire if something has happened. Perhaps there is trouble with his son.”

  She stepped away, but he caught her arm to save her from a grave mistake.

  “Please take care, Miss Jones.” He released her arm, since many eyes had turned toward them. “Rushing after a young man will fuel gossip.”

  He pointedly glanced to their left, where Mrs. Cunningham watched their every move. She followed his gaze and, as he’d predicted, flushed that lovely shade of rose, delicate as the petals of the roses his late wife had planted back home many years ago. Even now, twelve years later, the thought of her brought a wave of sorrow, though not as crippling as it had once been.

  Prosperity brought him back from that lonely place. Her innocence and faith reminded him of Sarah and better days.

  She bowed her head. “I’m sorry. I did not think.”

  “It’s all right. No harm done.” He longed to console her, to take her in his arms and hold her close as he had once held Sarah, but sense won out over longing. “Might I offer a word to the wise, gleaned over many years of life?”

  She nodded.

  Oh, how sweet the trusting of youth. She had not yet suffered the indignities that a lifetime would hand her.

  He offered a soothing smile to brace against the harsh words. “The lieutenant is capable of caring for his own family.”

  The pointed remark had the desired effect, though he regretted causing the slump of her shoulders.

  “I suppose you are right,” she murmured.

  He held out his arm, and she returned her hand to it. How gentle her touch. He quaked at the thought of all he’d lost. Could fate bring it back? For a moment he could almost believe in such an unscientific idea, but providence had shown itself a devouring beast. It took and took until the giver had nothing left. Survival required a strong will and the cunning to seize opportunity when it arrived.

  “Come with me, Prosperity,” he whispered with the gentle smile she seemed to enjoy, “and I will show you the world.”

  “The world?”

  She did not understand. Perhaps he had spoken in haste, caught up in the moment. He glanced toward the guests. No one watched them now, and the realization made him rush where perhaps he ought to take his time. Was it too early to declare his feelings? Perhaps not, given she had walked away from her former beloved. Yet he must tread carefully.

  “I would give you the world if I could.”

  Her smile set his heart pounding. She understood! She knew what he wished and had seconded it with that single gesture.

  He took her hand in his. “Dearest Prosperity—and you are dear to me—I will not promise more than I can conceivably deliver. As you know, I am a simple physician. What you see is who I am.” He ought to look in her eyes, but he could not risk losing his composure, not now when so much was at stake. “I would strive to make you happy, my dear Prosperity.”

  He felt the tremble of her hand but dismissed it as his own. He had gone this far. He could not stop now.

  Romantic notions called for gentlemen to drop to one knee. He could not and would not do such a thing in front of those who would disparage the moment with gossip. No, this was best stated purely and simply.

  He cleared his throat, gathering his nerve. Amputating an injured leg was easy compared to this. His life hinged on the answer to this question, but her clear, hazel eyes looked up at him with such trust.

  “What is it?”

  Those eyes spurred him to spill the question in a single rush. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her gasp told him he’d made a mistake.

  16

  What?” Prosperity choked out.

  How had a pleasant afternoon stroll turned into a declaration so stifling that she could not draw a breath? She stared at Dr. Goodenow, not believing what she had just heard. Surely her ears had deceived her. He could not have proposed marriage. She had given him no cause to do so. He was a kind man who insisted on escorting her to the hospital and back whenever possible, but marriage?

  They were not even courting. He had never suggested they should. Not in so many words. True, he had suggested familiarity by using her given name, but she had never called him anything but Doctor. He was a deserving gentleman and would make a fine husband, but she could not think of him in that manner.

  She did not long to see him. Her thoughts did not linger on him after they parted. His presence was generally pleasant except when he prodded her to step outside the bounds of her position at the hospital. That had made her worry over his intentions, but never with any thought toward personal attachment. He did not plague her dreams like David did. She could not draw a breath without thinking of David. Even though she must move on, she could not step away from him one moment and fall into the arms of another man the next.

  “I’ve startled you,” he said.

  “No. No.” She slipped her hand from his and tried to settle her thoughts. “You are a good man, a fine man . . .” She could not look at him.

  “But not a suitor. Is it the difference in our ages?”

  “No! Not at all.” How could she explain without crushing his feelings and ending the fellowship between them? She swallowed. “Your respect and friendship mean a great deal to me.”

  “But that is not enough.�
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  She backed away. “I—I’m sorry.”

  His crestfallen expression raised such regret within her. She did not wish to hurt him.

  He swiped his mouth with the back of his hand, as if to erase the disappointment. “The fault is mine, Miss Jones. I thought . . . well, I assumed incorrectly that you shared my affection.”

  “I had no idea.”

  His smile was wry. “Again, the fault is mine for misinterpreting your words and actions.”

  “My words?” What had she ever said to encourage such a thought? “I could not consider marriage, not now.” Not so soon after leaving her hope of a life with David.

  He nodded ever so slowly. “You are in mourning still. I ought to have waited, but I thought the change of gown meant you were coming out of deep mourning.”

  “No, that is—” She couldn’t explain what had never occurred to her. She simply couldn’t abide the black dress in the heat.

  “There is no need for you to explain. I was mistaken. We shall not speak of it again.”

  The stoic manner in which he bore his defeat touched her. “I’m sorry, Doctor. You are a good man. I’m simply not ready for marriage.”

  “I should have realized that, considering the betrayal you recently endured.”

  That stung, and she instinctively stiffened.

  “Pardon me for mentioning a sore subject,” the doctor hastened to add. “After watching you with the young lieutenant earlier this afternoon, I assumed you had resolved matters between you.”

  Prosperity stared at her clasped hands. The doctor spoke of heartache as if it could be treated in the same way one treated a cold. “Does a broken heart ever heal?”

  He must have heard her whisper. “Never entirely. After twelve years, I still miss my late wife, but I have learned that one must carry on.”

  “March on,” she murmured, thinking of David on his way back to the garrison. Is that what he was doing, trying to continue on after losing so much?

  “That is one way to think of it. Look at me, Prosperity.”

  She could not.

  He continued anyway. “Though you are not yet ready, my offer still stands. If at any time in the future you change your mind, you only need tell me.”