Scamp's Lady

by Jackie Walton

  Give him sympathy and stay away.

  Healing won, although common sense demanded she concede distance. “Are you all right?” You have to get that taken care of right away.”

  “Yes, I have to take care of it right now, but not the hand. It can wait.”

  He grimaced, and her common sense yielded the field. She rushed over to examine his burned hand. Heaving a sigh, he whispered, “Can you forgive me?” He used his free hand to retrieve the blackened buckles from his jacket pocket.

  She stared at the ruined metal for a moment. “I…I understand why you felt that way.” She touched the silver then withdrew her hand. “I’m not sure it can ever work, though.”

  “I think,” each word came slowly, “that, for the sake of my sanity, we have to make it work. If this morning was any indication of my future without you, I don’t want to be a part of it.”

  “The past few days have been…” she thought for a second and then chose one his words “…empty. But it was a wretched emptiness because I knew what it was like to be full of happiness.” There, she admitted it.

  He heaved a sigh and his chin dropped to his chest. Deborah watched his eyes close.

  “I do love you, you know. Even when I was furious, I couldn’t stop loving you.”

  “And I you.” She let go of him to wander over to another stack of boxes. A desultory swipe of her fingers picked up a layer of dust. “This isn’t going to be easy. Look at Tarleton.”

  He snorted, “Ban can be a pain in the arse, but you must admit, he was provoked.”

  “Yes, he was provoked. He was provoked because my father is a Continental general.”

  “A general who sent him flying off the field of battle with his tail between his legs, if reports are correct.” Kit sounded rueful.

  “You’re missing the point, here,” she stamped with frustration at his obtuseness. His grin didn’t help her annoyance. “My family is not only colonial, but rebel.”

  “And a most delightful rebel you are, my love, especially when you get angry.”

  “Kit, be serious! Do you think your family is going to be happy about me, a colonial nobody?” She planted her hands on her hips, “Will General Cornwallis question your loyalties? Look what Benedict Arnold did when he married a Loyalist! Are you going to be able to do your job knowing that the next Continental soldier you kill may be your brother-in-law?”

  He rubbed his mouth as he contemplated the dilemma. “There is a solution.” He hesitated; she could almost see the thoughts roiling in his head. “I’ll sell my commission.”

  “What! But this is your life!”

  “No, this is a position. There’s a difference. I wouldn’t object to selling out.” He grinned. “How would you like to be the wife of a small landowner in Lincolnshire rather than a British Army Colonel?”

  “Oh, Kit!” and hurled herself into his arms.

  “I’ll take that as acquiescence,” he laughed. “The banns have already been read, you remember.”

  She nodded and a smile blossomed on her face. “Let’s go tell Sarah. She’ll want to know.” She must have squeezed his hand because he flinched. “Oh my, I forgot. Let’s get that fixed first.”

  Arm in arm they left the room. They had only gone a few paces when a cacophony of booted feet and raised voices came up the stairwell. Scamp, deciding all was well, bounded after them.

  “…Dangerous, I tell you.” That was Sarah.

  “Gently, Mistress Kershaw, we’ll deal with him.” Deborah couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like the constable they’d dealt with when Penelope Brightman was murdered.

  The constable saw them as he reached the top of the stairs. “Stop! In the…,” his voice began to fade, “name of the King.” He cocked an eyebrow at Sarah. “Mayhem and murder, I believe you said, Mistress?”

  “It was,” she muttered and eyed Kit balefully.

  “Sarah, it’s all right. We have some wonderful news.”

  Sarah, stone-faced, said nothing.

  Chapter 17

  A messenger for Kit arrived shortly after she told Sarah the news. Cornwallis had arrived in camp and wanted to talk to Kit…now.

  “Yes, yes, I’ll explain everything to him,” he repeated. “There won’t be a problem.”

  “But what if he…”

  “He won’t, but if worse comes to worst, I can resign my commission right there and then.”

  It was the best she could hope for, since Kit couldn’t refuse a direct summons. He left promising to arrange for the ceremony at the house. Her job was to secure the minister for 5 o’clock that afternoon and be back in time to change clothes.

  **

  “Sarah, you can’t ‘not come.’ You’re my only friend! Please.”

  “And because I’m your friend I can say I think you’re making a major mistake. This marriage is an abomination. If I thought I could kidnap you to prevent it from happening, I would.”

  “How can you say such a thing? I want this more than anything.”

  “You’re being foolish, and you know it. He’s British, for pity’s sake!”

  “Yes, and he knows I’m not.”

  Sarah paced the length of her small office. Deborah sat in the visitor’s chair and watched her friend. Would Sarah ever understand?

  “At least postpone it! You barely know each other, and marriage is for a lifetime. ‘Marry in haste, repent at leisure’ is not just a saying.”

  Deborah wondered at the bitterness in Sarah’s voice, but didn’t feel she had the right to inquire as to its source. “Everything is arranged for this evening. If I don’t marry him, I know I will repent even more.”

  Sarah started to say something and closed her mouth with a snap. She glowered at Deborah. “Look, I’m old enough to be your mother.”

  “Sarah!” Deborah was getting annoyed.

  “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”

  “No, you’re not.”

  Sarah stared out the small window. Deborah could see the way her mouth pulled at the side. “All right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Oh, Sarah, be happy for me.” She jumped up to hug her friend. Sarah’s embrace came more slowly.

  **

  “I know Mr. Thomson is your friend, but rank has its privileges. He may stand as your witness, but you will go to your bridegroom on my arm.” Charles Cornwallis’s eyes twinkled, but Deborah knew enough of generals to know he meant every word of it. In truth, she was glad he didn’t raise any objections.

  She smiled, but the general sobered. “We need to talk. Before I start, let me say that I’m delighted that you two young people have found each other. I knew there was something between you even as you scratched and clawed at each other. I hope you are as happy as my wife and I were.

  “Did Marshall have a chance to talk to you before he went to tend to things?” He looked down at Scamp standing by his knee, excited and scruffy. Cornwallis raised his eyebrows and studied the little dog. “A Norfolk Terrier, excellent ratters.” A hand dropped down to pet Scamp.

  Deborah shook her head as she poured his tea in the library. Sally had commandeered the salon, being the largest room. On hearing the news, that worthy, ably abetted by a grinning Rogers, immediately set about rearranging and decorating for the ceremony. She had soldiers, servants, and camp followers working frantically.

  “I’m going to do two things that might make you angry, my dear.” Deborah froze in the act of pouring her tea and then gently put the pot down. “First, Kit cannot sell his commission immediately, at least not until he returns to England. I need his services and have convinced him not to resign immediately. He will, after all, need the proceeds from the sale. I will, however, endeavor to keep him out of the thick of the action, as far as I am able. That I can promise you. Even so, this is still war, and your family members are still combatants. At the earliest opportunity, I will release Kit to return to England and dispose of his commission. Is this acceptable to you?”

  Debor
ah nodded.

  “Second, I want to talk to you.” Cornwallis’s normally round, smooth face contorted and wrinkled as he pursed his mouth. “Have you two discussed the personal ramifications of this war?”

  “We have.”

  “I wonder. Your relationship seems to be able to survive war, but I question (with all affection and respect) whether it can survive peace.” Deborah looked quizzical. “One side of this conflict will have to lose. At this juncture, it appears that it will be yours. There may be consequences for your family as a result. Terrible consequences. I don’t wish them, God knows. I will do what I can to help, but they may happen none-the-less. Can you live with Kit if the worst happens?”

  “I believe that…”

  “Don’t answer immediately. This is something that requires thought. You have a small amount of time now. I want you to think carefully about how you would respond if the worst should befall. No one would be happier for you than I, but you must go into it with your eyes open.”

  Cornwallis studied her. “If you do decide to go forward with this marriage, I want your word, as the daughter of a man I know to be honorable, that you will take no action, overt or covert, against the British Crown while Marshall retains his commission.”

  “You have my word on that, sir. I will remain completely neutral.”

  “Very good.”

  She needed to clarify one thing. “Be aware, sir, that I will give medical attention to anyone who needs it…without betraying them.”

  “Fair enough.” He paused. “After he sells his commission, you’re his problem.”

  Deborah stared at him and then broke into giggles.

  Cornwallis smiled and then sobered. “Go, child, you have much to think about.”

  **

  Deborah knew she should give serious consideration to Cornwallis’s warning prediction. She knew she should find a quiet spot and think. The possibilities he presented frightened her out of her wits. The British government was not known for its easy tolerance of traitors and revolutionaries.

  But Sally wanted her opinion of the decorations in the parlor, Rogers wanted her approval of the refreshments, the Reverend Mr. Lorrimer wanted to give her instructions, and everyone she passed wanted to offer their sincerest congratulations. Except Sarah. Sarah sulked.

  Rose, allowed to come to the farm for the ceremony, shyly offered to assist Deborah with her dressing. The gold ball gown floated over the curls Rose had painstakingly fashioned. As Deborah’s head emerged from the gold froth, she saw Sarah standing just inside the door. For a moment, she stared at her friend. “I hope you can be happy for me.”

  “Of course, of course, love.” Sarah walked over and enfolded her in a careful hug. “You know I only want your happiness. I just don’t want you to make a mistake. Marriage is for a lifetime, you know.”

  “I know. The General pointed out some of the consequences to me earlier.”

  “And did you listen?” Sarah smiled ruefully.

  “I listened.” In a flash, Deborah realized that she had indeed listened, weighed the consequences, and come to a conclusion, all without conscious thought. “Cornwallis pointed out the consequences if we lose. Marrying Kit won’t affect the outcome of the war. If the Continental Army loses, and something happens to my family, I’d rather grieve with Kit at my side than by myself. I love him, Sarah, and he loves me. We know each other’s politics, so there are no surprises there. We’ll see it through together.”

  Sarah sighed and nodded.

  **

  The rumble of the crowd penetrated the house. As she walked down the curved staircase at the far end of the foyer, she saw people crowded around the double-door entry to the salon. They were all here for her wedding. She could recognize many of them by sight, if not by name. This one had taken a bullet, that one a catarrh, another a still-mending broken arm, and so they went. She didn’t know their names, but they were here because of friendship. The thought buoyed her.

  At the base of the stairs, Cornwallis waited, his round face smooth and composed, but his eyes shining. When she reached the bottom step, he proffered his hand. She took it, thinking that he meant to assist her, but he raised it. After he kissed it, he put his other hand on top and squeezed gently. Without saying a word he turned to escort her into the salon. Sarah watched from the doorway.

  Deborah could only see over the crowded heads in the room. Green boughs and candles hung down from the ceiling over the guests, interspersed with brightly colored streamers.

  Sarah entered the salon first and, from a corner, bagpipes started to play as joyfully as bagpipes can play. She carried a bouquet of holly berries against the emerald green of her gown. Deborah followed on the arm of General Cornwallis, and clutching a spray of pinecones and branches tied with a pink ribbon. Rose, happy tears in her eyes, had conjured it up as they left the bedroom. The crowd in the salon dissolved into a pathway before Sarah. At the end of that path, the Reverend Mr. Lorrimer stood in his white robes and stole. Deborah could see Kit with his back to her. He was fidgeting, his weight shifting from foot to foot, his hands never finding a place to rest. He’s nervous, she realized. Is he having second thoughts about the wisdom of marrying her? A frown wrinkled her brow.

  Then he turned.

  **

  Kit swore that his skin was going to, momentarily, get up and walk away without him. It itched, it tickled, it crawled. An agitation of the nerves—he snorted. Merdre, men don’t get agitation of the nerves. I’ve stood through more battles than I care to count. Damnation, it’s not like I’m facing a line of riflemen or risking my life in a battlefield sword duel. I’m not risking my life in…God’s teeth. A brief glance down the road of his life flashed before him. It could be heaven or hell. It all depended on his choices. By all that was holy, he was risking his life. No, worse. A bullet was quick. He was risking his lifetime.

  The bagpipe’s drone startled him. For a moment the sound made no sense to him. Then he wheeled around to see the crowd melting apart.

  Time slowed for him.

  With her arm held by one of the most powerful British generals of the time, there stood his bride. Beautiful, desirable, scared. She was all that, and more. But why scared?

  He watched her glance quickly at Cornwallis and then to himself. Why scared, indeed. It should have been her father’s arm she held. Instead it was an enemy’s. Saving Sarah, she didn’t have any family or friends around her to help and uphold her. She was marrying a foe without the advice, consent, or support of those who loved her. Then again, so was he. His mouth pulled at the wry symmetry.

  Inexplicably, her face lightened, and a smile grew slowly. As he watched, his world steadied. The smile spread, and whatever problems lay in the future shriveled to insignificance. When the light reached her eyes and the joy transfigured her face, he knew that however long God ordained his lifetime, his life would be held safely in two small hands.

  **

  Her senses still swam from his kiss. It had not been a formal, perfunctory peck. He hadn’t released her, either. His arms remained close around her, even as the assembled guests broke into cheers. The noise thundered, and she hid her head in his blouse front. From behind her, she heard Cornwallis’s voice boom, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor to present to you the Honorable Col. Christopher Marshall and Lady Christopher.”

  The roar waned and waxed even louder, much to Deborah’s amazement. People crowded around them. Something else caught her attention. She pulled her nose out of Kit’s chest. “The Honorable? Lady Christopher?”

  Lt. Harvey, beaming near Kit’s shoulder, offered two punch glasses more or less to their hands. “Blimey, madam, ‘course it’s ‘Honorable.’ ‘S always ‘Honorable’ when your fa…hic…ther’s an earl.” He paused a moment and his gaze turned inward. A strange, swelling look came over him. “’Scuse…don’ feel so goo…” He pushed his way through the crowd and out of the room.

  “I think he started the festivities a bit early,” Bradley
drawled. “He’s not properly fledged yet.” Laughter burst around them.

  Mr. Thomson pushed by a camp follower. “Glad ye two got things straightened out.” He addressed Kit, “Ye take good care of this little lady, mind you, sir.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Earl?” Deborah could hardly get the word out.

  “Umph.” Kit dismissed the whole thing with a shrug. He pulled his mouth up in an ironic grin. “M’mother’s going to have my ears with me denying her her baby’s wedding, but it’s worth it.” He grinned. “You’re going to love her. She’s been after Stephen and me to marry and get her grandbabies to spoil for years now.” He finally registered her shocked expression. “They’re just my parents. A title doesn’t mean they’re ogres. They will both adore you, trust me.”

  “I, I knew you must be well-connected, since you’re an officer, but I didn’t think you were that well connected.”

  “My little love. My father’s an earl, and I suppose I could take my place in the ton. The only problem is that I’m a second son and will, generally speaking, have to make my own way in the world. We’ll be going to London on occasion, of course, but I’m afraid if you wish to shine in the ton, you married the wrong man.”

  “Shine in the… Of all the absurdity!”

  Someone offered congratulations. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

  She turned back to Kit. “I don’t want that. I don’t have any ambition to be the daughter-in-law of an earl. What would I say to him?”

  Kit leaned over to whisper, “Well, I’m not particularly sure about my father, but Mother has always considered a hug and a kiss to be the proper form of greeting. Can’t say that I kiss m’father that often, but I’m certain he’ll find it acceptable from a pretty girl.”

  **

  “Congratulations!”

  “Ye’ll make himself a foine wife.”

  “Oh, I’m so happy for you!”

  The next guest engulfed her in a huge hug and dropped a smacking kiss somewhere between her cheek and her mouth. The embrace ended abruptly. Deborah looked up to find Mr. Thomson glowering at the bear-like grenadier.