by Jody Hedlund
Or was her love similar to what she had for Tom? After all, she loved Tom and was willing to sacrifice herself for the slave, just as she was willing to do for him.
He reached for her, needing to pull her into his arms, to hear the declaration of love from her lips. But she took another quick step away, her body trembling with her effort to stand. She lifted her chin and pressed her lips together. Determination hardened the usual softness of her face.
“I have to do this, Ben,” she said. “I won’t be able to live with myself if I allow anyone else to take responsibility for what I’ve done.”
He knew the desperation she was feeling. It mirrored his own. Even so, he couldn’t let her hand herself over.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the movement of Reverend Smith coming down the aisle toward them, as well as Mrs. Smith descending the stairway from the gallery.
If he could capture Susanna before she blurted out her confession, then he could enlist their help in locking Susanna away until after the trial. They were as determined as he was to keep Susanna free from suffering at the hands of the lieutenant.
But Susanna shook her head—almost sadly. Then she glanced away from him to the front of the building, to the judge.
Even before she opened her mouth to speak again, Ben knew what she would say.
He lunged for her.
“Honorable Judge Niles,” she started loudly.
But that’s as far as she got. He captured her before she could escape, jerked her against him, and cut off her next words by covering her mouth with his.
She held herself stiff for only a moment before softening and sagging against him, giving in to his tender kiss.
It didn’t matter that the whole parish of Weymouth was witnessing his affection for her. He blocked out the eruption of their gasps and murmurings.
He needed to stop her from her foolishness. It didn’t matter that she might not be ready for his declaration of love. It didn’t matter anymore if he gave away how much he loved her.
As if from a distance, Mrs. Smith’s tense whispers urged him to stop, and Reverend Smith stood next to them clearing his throat.
He didn’t care what they thought anymore. In fact, he didn’t care what anyone thought. He was done living his life at the mercy of status and prestige.
Besides, it was his good-bye kiss to her. For after today, he doubted he would ever see her again.
With one last consuming press of his mouth to hers, he dragged his lips from hers and pushed them against her ear. “I love you, Susanna,” he whispered. “I love you with every fiber of my being. And I always will, until the day I die.”
She sucked in a sharp breath. Her body trembled against his. And when she leaned her head back so that she could look into his eyes, wonder spread over her face.
Could she return his love?
Mrs. Smith gripped Susanna’s arm and tugged at her. The woman’s eyes were hard and attempted to shame him with her haughtiness.
He pretended not to notice. He no longer cared if Mrs. Smith liked him. He didn’t need her approval or anyone else’s.
She wrenched Susanna away and slipped her arm around her daughter to keep her from falling. “I’m taking you home this instant.” She propelled Susanna toward the door. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Susanna allowed her mother to push her along.
With each step she took, agony tore at his heart. This was it. This was good-bye. Only when they neared the door did Susanna struggle against her mother. She glanced over her shoulder.
Something in her eyes spanned the distance and caressed him. It soothed the radiating pain into a dull ache. Her eyes spoke what her lips couldn’t. She cared about him. Truly and deeply. Perhaps not with the love he desired, but surely with the affection of the truest friend.
What more could he ask for in life than to have had a friend like her?
Lieutenant Wolfe had risen in his pew box. A smirk curled his lips. He’d obviously watched their display, knowing exactly what Ben would do and why.
Ben’s fists clenched at the need to swing them at the lieutenant and knock the grin from his face.
The lieutenant had won. And there was nothing Ben could do about it, except to feast his eyes upon Susanna one last time. He drank in her features, her eyes and slender cheeks, the curve of her lips, the raven waves of her hair.
“Come, Susanna.” Mrs. Smith began towing her.
But Susanna resisted and craned her head, as though unwilling to break the connection with him. She seemed to read the truth inside him and realize he was saying good-bye for the last time.
Panic darted across her face. “No!” she cried, trying to twist free from her mother’s grip.
“Reverend Smith,” Ben said to her father standing next to him, “I believe your wife is in need of your help in escorting Susanna home.”
The reverend nodded. His usual benevolent expression had turned grave.
“No!” Susanna cried again.
Ben spun away, her anguished call ripping his heart again. His shoulders slumped, and he shuffled away from her toward the lieutenant.
Her cries mingled with her father’s low murmurs of comfort interspersed with Mrs. Smith’s rebukes. Every muscle in his body demanded that he turn around, run to her, and crush her in his arms once more.
Before Ben could return to his pew, the door of the meetinghouse swung open, and the bitter winter air rushed down the aisle to nip him.
“The beadle is back,” a voice called.
Ben straightened his shoulders. It was time to give himself over to the lieutenant.
“Where are the prisoners?” Lieutenant Wolfe scowled.
The beadle pushed past the Smiths. His hat was askew, his face flushed, and his chest heaved, as if he’d run the distance from the tavern to the meetinghouse.
“The girl’s gone,” the beadle finally managed to choke out between breaths.
“You’re mistaken.” Lieutenant Wolfe exited his box pew. His eyes narrowed to slits. “She’s been under constant guard since she was apprehended.”
“She’s long gone,” the beadle insisted, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping at the perspiration on his forehead.
“You must go back and check again,” the lieutenant barked.
“I searched the entire building, the entire premises,” the beadle rushed to explain. “There is no sign of her anywhere. Not one.”
“You idiot.” Lieutenant Wolfe spat the words. “Where is my assistant? He will surely know where the prisoner is.”
“I didn’t see Sergeant Frazel anywhere either.”
“And what of the slave?”
“He’s still locked in his room.”
The lieutenant turned his glare from the beadle to Ben. The accusation in his eyes sent a ray of hope through Ben.
Had Dotty escaped?
“If the indentured servant has escaped, then apparently someone else is involved in helping her,” Ben called out above the murmurs. “It would appear you’ve accused the wrong people, Lieutenant.”
He strode to the pulpit and stood before the judge. “Honorable Justice, I ask for a dismissal of this case. The lieutenant has obviously brought charges against the wrong suspects.”
“You know I’m not wrong, Mr. Ross.” The lieutenant’s boots tapped the floor until he stood next to Ben. His eyes warned Ben to cooperate and follow their agreed-on plan.
But Ben focused his attention on the judge, knowing he had to act quickly and decisively or he’d lose his chance at making his case. “Honorable Justice, how could the slave be involved in helping the prisoner if he’s still locked in his room? The lieutenant has been mistaken about who’s responsible for the crime.”
“You’re right,” the lieutenant said, his voice hard. “I should have arrested Miss Smith. She’s the one who’s been sheltering the runaway.”
“I think you’re confused, Lieutenant,” Ben countered. “Miss Smith has been gravely ill with the inf
luenza. There is no way she could have ridden out to the Wayside Tavern and released the prisoner. She could hardly make it here to the meetinghouse from the parsonage without collapsing.”
He paused and turned to face Susanna, who had fallen to her knees at the back of the meetinghouse. Her pale face was streaked with tears.
His pointed stare at Susanna drew the attention of everyone else, the way he’d intended. “Honorable Justice, as you can see, it’s impossible that Miss Smith, in her condition, could have been involved with the escape of the prisoner. There is absolutely no way she could have overpowered a full-grown man on guard duty to free the runaway. And if she’d freed the runaway, why not free her innocent slave also?”
He didn’t know if Susanna had somehow managed to free Dotty. In fact, he didn’t really care how Dotty had escaped. All that mattered was casting enough doubt upon Tom’s and Susanna’s involvement.
From the increased murmurings of the crowd, Ben could sense he was winning their support. Most of them distrusted Lieutenant Wolfe anyway.
“I don’t know how the prisoner could have gotten out of her room,” the lieutenant said. “She was under guard at all times.”
“Exactly,” Ben said. “Since she was under your protection, then we must assume you decided to dispose of her in your own way, perhaps the same way you disposed of other pretty runaways?”
The lieutenant sent him a warning glare.
Ben pushed himself taller, letting the passion that burned inside him swell and find voice. “Lieutenant Wolfe, perhaps you decided you didn’t want Dotty to testify in court today because you were afraid she would incriminate you and link you with the two Braintree murders.”
“That’s not true.”
“Perhaps you had your assistant remove her so that she wouldn’t be able to divulge to this room of people the fact that you’d taken her shoes from her and then cruelly chased her until her feet were mangled and bleeding, which was what happened to the two murder victims found on the beach.”
“How dare you!” The lieutenant’s face had flushed. His hand went to the hilt of his saber.
But Ben didn’t care what the lieutenant decided to do to him. The words wouldn’t stop now that he’d started. “You obviously didn’t want her to show the scars on her feet because doing so would link you to the two murdered women.”
“I am no murderer!” the lieutenant shouted.
The low rumbling and gasps coming from the room only loosened Ben’s tongue further. “And I suppose you’d have us believe it coincidental that the murders happened after you were quartered in Braintree?”
The lieutenant glared at him. “You have no proof of anything, and I’m offended by your accusations. I shall see that you are punished for this defamation of my good name.”
Ben returned the stare, unwilling to back down. He’d cornered the lieutenant and he knew it. Ben could see it in his eyes.
The beadle stepped forward. “Mr. Ross, I don’t know if this will help, but it was sitting in front of the prisoner’s room.” The beadle held out a bulging haversack.
The lieutenant’s face paled at the sight of the bag.
The judge motioned the beadle forward, but Lieutenant Wolfe gave a growl of protest. “I object. The bag is from among my personal possessions. How dare this man presume to meddle in my belongings.”
“I didn’t know it was yours,” the beadle said quickly. “Honest. It was just sitting in the hallway outside the prisoner’s door. I figured it might be helpful in determining what happened to her.”
“Return it to my room in the tavern at once.”
“I agree with the beadle,” Ben said. “It may have valuable information that could help us solve the mystery behind Dotty’s disappearance. I suggest we investigate what’s inside. And if Lieutenant Wolfe has nothing to hide, then surely he won’t mind our checking.”
“I do mind,” the lieutenant said sharply.
But Ben ignored the man and instead nodded at the beadle, indicating that he should open the haversack.
“If you do not obey me,” the lieutenant called, “I shall report you for insubordination—”
But the lieutenant’s declaration was cut off by the alarmed cries of those gathered, as the beadle had already turned the haversack upside down and spilled its contents onto the floor.
For a moment, Ben could only stare in disgust. How many women had the man murdered? Obviously more than two.
The lieutenant pinched his lips together, his nostrils flaring with barely contained rage.
The judge was the first to speak. “Lieutenant Wolfe, would you care to explain why a bag you admitted was rightfully your own came to be full of women’s shoes?”
“I cannot explain it,” the lieutenant said. “Someone has obviously planted the shoes in my bag without my knowledge.”
The look he leveled at Ben, however, said that he knew how the shoes had ended up in his bag, but that Ben would never be able to prove it. Nevertheless, the shoes provided Ben with enough solid evidence to file a case of murder against the lieutenant.
“Honorable Justice,” Ben said, turning to speak to Judge Niles. “I request the case against the Smith slave be dropped and that Tom be set free. We have no reason to hold him any longer. ”
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Ross,” Judge Niles said, his voice booming through the building. “I hereby dismiss the case against the Smith family and their slave.”
Ben’s shoulders sagged with relief. The nods and choruses of approval echoed around him. He peered to the back of the meetinghouse in time to see Mrs. Smith assisting Susanna to her feet. He wanted to catch Susanna’s gaze and share the moment of victory. But Reverend Smith flanked one side and Mrs. Smith the other, giving Susanna little choice but to accompany them from the building.
Even though he longed to chase after her, he forced himself to stay. He had unfinished business with the lieutenant. And besides, Susanna needed to be back home in her bed as soon as possible.
“Judge Niles,” Ben said loudly and decisively, “I propose that if we do locate the runaway indentured servant, we bring her to the meetinghouse for questioning. I’m sure everyone here is curious to hear what she has to say about Lieutenant Wolfe.”
Again the crowd mumbled their assent.
The lieutenant squirmed.
“I’m quite certain she would be able to identify her shoes from among those found in the lieutenant’s satchel.” Ben could only hope that the lieutenant caught the threat behind his words. He wanted the man to stop chasing Dotty. If he knew that capturing the girl would only bring about further connection to the Braintree murders, then perhaps he’d leave her alone, wherever she was.
“I concur, Mr. Ross.” The judge folded his arms and gave Lieutenant Wolfe his most sober stare. “If she is able to help us solve the murder mysteries of Braintree, then I daresay we must thoroughly question her.”
A silent prayer of gratefulness whispered through Ben. He would file charges against Lieutenant Wolfe in Boston the first chance he had to ride there. And even though he wasn’t sure that he could actually win against one of the king’s officers, at the very least he prayed that Susanna would finally be out of danger.
His heart thudded with the need to go after her and wrap her in his arms again.
But as much as he wanted to be with her, he needed only to glance at Lieutenant Wolfe’s red coat to remind himself of the life of danger he’d charted for himself. If he continued to resist the British oppression, the coming years would be fraught with turmoil.
Now that he’d saved Susanna from one disaster, could he really drag her into more?
He let out a long tense breath. Deep inside he knew she would be much better off without him. But could he live without her?
Chapter
27
Susanna stared at the pages of The Odyssey. The book lay on her lap, opened to the same spot she’d turned to when Phoebe had helped her into the chair before the fireplace earlier that m
orning.
It had been two days since the trial, but Ben hadn’t visited her.
She grazed her fingers along the edge of the book, trying to ignore the ache in her heart. But with each passing hour she was having a difficult time overlooking the pain she felt inside.
Why hadn’t he come to see her yet?
The knit blanket slipped from her shoulders, and the chill of her bedchamber drifted around her.
He’d told her he loved her.
She’d mulled over his words a hundred times since the trial. The delight she had experienced the first day of his confession had slowly evaporated as she’d waited in vain for him to run to her and confirm his declaration.
Now confusion pulsed through her, leaving her restless and unable to focus on anything except the emptiness inside.
Why had he admitted his love if he hadn’t planned to come for her?
She’d asked herself that question over and over. And she didn’t want to face the obvious answer—that he’d kissed her and given her his love only because he’d been saying good-bye and going off to face imprisonment and death. He’d had nothing to lose by making his bold declaration.
But now . . . He was putting the distance back between them.
Perhaps he was honoring their friendship and erecting the boundaries of a platonic relationship.
She gave a woeful sigh and smoothed her hand over the page of his book, wishing she were running her fingers over the solidness of his face instead.
He likely had no excuse for visiting her. Why would he create one after she’d rejected him in the past? Why would he risk giving her his devotion now?
At the thump of Phoebe’s shoes on the floor in the next room and the murmur of voices, Susanna bowed her head and chided herself. She ought to be grateful. Tom was safely tucked into the guest-room bed, and Phoebe was seeing to his needs. Some of the men of the parish had delivered the old slave home, hungry but alive.
And while she didn’t know what had happened to Dotty or where she was, she knew she ought to be thankful the young woman had somehow managed to escape the clutches of Lieutenant Wolfe.
She indeed had much for which to be grateful, especially because Lieutenant Wolfe had returned to Boston in shame. He would likely be prosecuted for murder and then sent back to England and imprisoned.
