by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Pamela Griffin, Lisa Harris
He took a deep breath, weighing his words. She waited, staring at him with tear-filled eyes, her breath rapid and shallow.
“Lucy, if it hadn’t been for your father, would you have married me four years ago?”
She waited so long his heart began to pound.
At last she whispered, “Yes, Jack, I would have.”
Relief swept through him. “Thank you.” At least he would have that assurance to savor through the night.
“But that was a long time ago,” she said softly. “I’ve put all that behind me.”
He sighed, his lingering hope and flame of desire for her squelched once more into a smoldering bit of ash. “You still have the school?”
She nodded. “I teach classes in the mornings. But that doesn’t mean I can’t do a few chores for you.”
Jack speculated that she was a pleasant tutor.
“I don’t think we could take your stock to our house,” she said with a frown. “The old fences are in terrible shape. We’ve let them go since Father died. You have oxen, don’t you?”
“It’s all right, Lucy. Don’t fret about that.”
“But what will happen to your cattle?” she whispered, her brow furrowed in anxiety.
He shrugged. “Dole said some of the neighbors can take them temporarily, but … well, it’s looking like I won’t get out of here, and …”
Her hand came timidly through the bars and rested lightly on his sleeve, ever so tentative, like a hovering butterfly alighting on a blossom, ready to take wing in an instant.
He stared at her slim fingers. “Lucy, this is the end for me.” He turned away, unable to face her, knowing she would see his fear.
“I don’t want to believe that.”
“You must. Will you pray for me?” He looked at her through the bars. A tear fell from her lashes and streaked down her cheek.
“Of course.” Her voice cracked.
Jack’s heart wrenched. He bit his lip as he gazed at her, trying to gauge the depth of her feelings for him. She still had faith in him. Of all the people who knew him, she was the only one who truly believed him innocent. He took a deep breath.
“Lucy, will you marry me?”
Chapter 5
Lucy gasped and stared at him in disbelief.
“What did you say?”
Jack felt his cheek muscles twitch. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I just … Lucy, we don’t have much time.”
“But …” Her gaze remained riveted on his face. “Jack, you just proposed marriage.”
“Yes.”
“But if what you say is true, there can be no marriage.”
“You’re right. We would never be able to share a life together. But the captain told me that if I were married, the officials would have to let my widow inherit my estate, or at least part of it. I don’t want them to take the farm, Lucy. If I’ve got to die tomorrow, I’d at least like to go knowing someone I care about has my property, not some greedy land grabber.”
Her lips quivered, and he wondered if this was a huge mistake. Had he destroyed his last shred of hope? No, he told himself. It’s impossible for things to be worse than they are. Still, a tiny voice told him that if Lucy rejected him now and walked away, his last hours would be spent in the worst mental anguish possible.
Her chin came up, and she sniffed. “Jack, I don’t need your farm.”
“I know you don’t. It’s just … I can’t stand the thought of Dole having it. I didn’t know widows could be heirs, but Captain Murray says they can.”
She nodded. “My brothers were my father’s heirs. They have to let Mother live on the farm as long as she wants to. But they took all the livestock and Father’s tools. We don’t have much, but as long as Mother’s alive, we have a roof over our heads.”
“Murray says there’s a way to make it legal to name you as my heir. You may not get everything, but if they force a sale of the farm, you would at least get a portion of the proceeds.”
“Jack—”
“Please. I want to do this.”
“Why? To thwart the constables? To pay them back in small measure for the way they’ve treated you today?” Her voice was steady now, and his heart ached with a longing for things to be normal so he could court her the proper way.
“Not that so much as … Lucy, I … I think about you a lot. About what passed between us earlier. I’ve always regretted …”
“What, Jack?” She leaned close, and he could smell the soap that she used on her clothing.
“Not standing up to your father.”
“Don’t feel that way. We did what was right in abiding by his wishes.”
He sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Still, I’ve always hoped I could make things up to you someday, and … Lucy, I want to make amends for any hurt I caused you, and this is the only chance I’ll have to do that.”
“Oh, Jack.” She bowed her head. The candlelight threw shadows from her long eyelashes across her cheek. “You don’t need to give me anything. I don’t regret loving you.”
She said it so low he barely caught her words, but his heart tripped. If only he’d acted sooner, perhaps the embers of their romance could have been fanned into flame once more. He longed to embrace her and try with his last bit of strength to give her comfort.
“I’ve worked hard over the years to make something of that sorry homestead my father left. I don’t want it to go to waste. Bequeathing it to someone is my only way to salvage some of that hard work. And I want to bequeath it to you. But unless we’re married, they won’t let you inherit from me. Please let me do this.”
She took a deep breath. “There’s no one else for an heir?”
“I’ve no family now that my mother and father are dead.”
“You know I wish it were otherwise for you.”
“Aye. The officials won’t like it, but this is what I want to do. Please grant me this as my last request, Lucy.”
She blinked up at him. “Will they let us get married with you in prison?”
She’s considering it! Thank You, Lord! “The captain thought so. He said he’d fetch the parson after you came, without telling him my purpose. If you say no, I’ll let him think I wanted him to come and pray for me. But if you say yes … Lucy, will you?”
Swallowing seemed to take great effort on her part. Her pupils were large, reflecting the candlelight. The door opened down the hall, and the flame fluttered in the breeze as booted feet tramped toward them.
Jack held his breath, and Lucy’s lips parted.
“Yes.”
Five men came—the jailer, the two constables, the minister, and Captain Murray—each bearing a lantern or a candlestick. Lucy looked them over quickly then lowered her eyes against the bright light and the open stares of the men.
“Your time is expired, Miss Hamblin,” Stoddard said, examining his bunch of keys as he walked.
“What news, Goodman Stoddard?” Jack called.
“My son says the magistrate will be here on the morrow. He gave instruction for the process to be carried out speedily.”
Jack cleared his throat. “I’d like to see the parson now.”
Dole’s smug smile showed the gap in his jaw where a tooth was missing. “So this miscreant wants to shrive his soul after all.”
The preacher, with his white hair tied at the nape of his neck, cut a grim figure in his black frock coat, breeches, and vest. He stepped close to the cell door, and Lucy moved aside, darting an anxious glance toward Jack.
“They tell me you stand before the gate of eternity, Hunter. Are you ready to meet God?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are?” Parson Catton appeared puzzled. He handed Dole his lantern and shifted his Bible from under his arm. “I assumed you had a confession to make.”
“No, sir, I’ve done that. The Lord and I are square.”
“Then why …?” The parson gazed at Murray, who had slouched onto the nearby bench. “You told me Hunter had
need of me, Captain. If he won’t hear my counsel—”
“He has a different sort of need, Pastor.” Murray stuffed the bowl of his pipe with tobacco.
Stoddard held up the key and said with a bit of impatience, “Miss Hamblin, you’ll have to leave now.”
Jack stood tall. “Miss Hamblin and I would like to be married, sir.”
The men all stared toward the barred window, then exchanged confused glances. The parson’s eyes widened. He looked at Lucy then at the captain. Lucy took a wobbly step toward the captain, and Murray stood.
“It’s the prisoner’s last request,” he said. “Surely it’s reasonable.”
The parson licked his thin lips. “I don’t know about this. I was told the prisoner was to be executed in the morning.”
“All the more reason to perform the ceremony,” Murray said. “It’s Hunter’s dying wish. Do it quick, before Dole or Rutledge makes up a new rule that says you can’t.”
The constables scowled at him but said nothing. Stoddard stood with the keys in his hand and his mouth hanging open.
Sorrow filled the parson’s features. “Miss Hamblin, does your mother know about this?”
Lucy straightened her shoulders, feeling suddenly proud and determined. “No, sir. She was not at home when I was summoned. But I am of age. This is my decision.”
“I see,” Catton murmured. He arched his eyebrows in Rutledge’s direction.
Lucy’s heart raced. She sent up a swift prayer. Lord, please don’t let them deny Jack this one consolation.
The constable shrugged. “It’s not customary, but I’m not aware that it’s illegal. If this young couple wants to be tied before Hunter meets his end …”
“There’s just one thing,” Murray said. Lucy caught her breath.
Murray reached inside his doublet and pulled out a sheet of parchment. “This contract will allow Jack Hunter’s widow to own and distribute his property after his death.”
The other men stared at him.
Dole was the first to react. “You can’t do that, Captain.”
“Why not?”
“He’s a murderer!” Dole sputtered.
“That has not yet been proven,” the captain bellowed.
“Let me see that.” Catton reached for the paper. “Is this an attempt to thwart the law?”
“Of course not.” The captain bristled with offense, and the parson withdrew his hand. Murray glared at the constables. “This is a legal process, and you both know it. The relict Chadbourne is now owner of a prime piece of property to dispose of as she pleases because John Chadbourne signed such a document before they were married. His ship went down, and now she is the richest woman in the province.”
Rutledge nodded. “That’s true.”
“This is mad.” Catton raised his hands. “For this young woman to bind herself to a murderer on the eve of his execution! I don’t know as I’ll allow it.”
Rutledge took the parchment from Murray and scanned it. “I’d say you’ve no choice.”
“I don’t have to marry a couple if there is question as to their piety.”
Murray frowned. “Surely you’re not questioning Miss Hamblin’s spiritual condition.”
The parson’s cheeks colored above his beard. “She’s always seemed a most demure and obedient young lady … until today. Hunter is another matter. He’s forsaken public worship.”
“He’s been in church every Sabbath these past four months,” Murray said.
Jack held the bars and leaned close to the window. “Pastor, it’s true I turned away from the Almighty for a time after my mother passed on, but I’ve sought God’s forgiveness for that and other waywardness. My conscience is clear.”
Catton hesitated.
“What about this little matter of killing your neighbor?” Dole muttered.
Jack sighed. “I’ll save my pleas for the magistrate.”
Murray cleared his throat. “Perhaps it’s time to open the cell door and sign this contract.”
“We can’t open the door of a felon’s cell with a lady present,” Stoddard argued.
Murray smiled. “She’s about to become his wife, Reuben, and I doubt he’ll try to escape his nuptials. But if it will ease your mind, I’ll stand between Hunter and the exit.”
Stoddard looked to Rutledge. The constable nodded.
The jailer unlocked the door and swung it open. “All right, Hunter, step out here.”
Jack complied, and Lucy caught her breath. His left cheekbone and eyelid were a deep purple, and his lower lip had cracked and bled.
Dole frowned. “Should you put irons on his feet?”
“I won’t run,” Jack said.
Lucy felt as if her heart would burst. His gaze rested on her for a long moment, and the intense gratitude in his eyes overwhelmed her. She would not cry before these men. As it was, she and Jack were giving them months’ worth of gossip to bandy about the village.
Rutledge handed the document to Jack. “Have you seen this?”
“No, sir, but I asked the captain to have it drawn up proper.”
Rutledge nodded. “Stoddard, we’ll need a quill and ink.”
“I’ll fetch it,” the jailer said.
“Perhaps we should move to the outer room, where the light is better,” Murray suggested.
Stoddard turned in the doorway. “There be plenty of light in here, and I’ll not take a chance of losing the prisoner before the magistrate comes.” He gave a brusque nod and hurried out of the room.
Murray advanced to stand at Jack’s side. “If you wish it, I’ll witness that contract for you, and the wedding, as well.”
“I’d be honored, Captain,” Jack said.
The jailer’s wife came in with him when he brought the pen and ink, and the contract was quickly signed.
Lucy slipped her hand through the crook of Jack’s arm, barely touching his sleeve. He laid his other hand on hers and pressed her fingers. When he looked down at her, she managed a smile, but her insides felt like pudding.
She straightened her shoulders and faced the dour minister. Goody Stoddard squeezed in beside her. “Your mother will want to know a woman stood by you,” she explained.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Lucy smoothed the skirt of her threadbare gray dress and wished she had stopped to put on her Sunday gown. This would have to do. It was the linsey she wore day after day around the house, at her loom, doing chores, teaching the children. Her wedding dress.
Pastor Catton rested his Bible on the bench and blinked at them. “Dearly beloved,” he began, and Lucy found it hard to breathe.
This is it, she thought. I’m going to be Jack Hunter’s wife. She refused to dwell on the fact that she would hold that position for only a few hours.
The minister’s words echoed in the passageway, leaving her befuddled. The flickering light, the smell of the tallow candles and oil lamps, the haze of smoke in the air, and the stench of unwashed bodies in the confined space combined to make her a bit dizzy. She glanced up at Jack, and he squeezed her hand.
This is real, she told herself. She thrust her shoulders back and took a deep breath. I won’t faint at my own wedding! By the time the parson called on her to state her commitment to the groom, her voice was steady.
“You may kiss your bride, Hunter,” Catton said.
Lucy looked up at Jack from beneath her lashes. She hadn’t thought about this. Their first and last kiss would be accomplished before these witnesses. He shot a glance at the constables then stooped toward her. She closed her eyes. Jack’s lips brushed hers for an instant, feather soft; then he straightened.
Her cheeks were crimson—she could tell from the heat of them—but no one seemed to care.
“There, now,” said Goody Stoddard. “Not an ostentatious wedding, but very nice.”
“Thank you,” Lucy choked.
“All right, Hunter,” said Rutledge. “Back inside.”
“Oh, really!” Captain Murray said. His deep, full voice startled Lu
cy. “Let’s have a piece of cake or something.”
“It’s not like this is a happy occasion.” The stiffness in Rutledge’s voice made Lucy blush even deeper, this time for shame. If only she’d had the courage to defy her father and marry Jack four years ago! But even as the thought came, she dismissed it. She had tried to live in obedience to God, which also meant obedience to her father while he lived, and she could not regret that, even though it meant giving up the time she might have had with Jack.
The jailer stroked his chin. “I seem to recall my wife was cooking something this evening.”
“Yes,” Goody Stoddard cried with a wide smile. “I’ve a gingerbread in the bake kettle. It’s just the thing to celebrate this union. I’ll be back in a trice.” She hurried down the passageway toward the jailer’s family quarters.
“I suggest we all move out to the main hall,” Murray said. “Give the happy couple a few moments alone.”
“We can’t—” Stoddard stopped and looked up at the captain, who towered over him with a menacing frown. The jailer gulped. “All right, but just a few moments. And, Hunter, you must give me your word. No tricks.”
“I give my pledge,” Jack said, looking into Stoddard’s eyes.
“Well then,” said Rutledge, “let us go get some cake.” He threw Jack a sharp glance.
Murray stepped toward Lucy and said in a low tone, “I shall wait for you, Goody Hunter, and see you home.”
She felt her cheeks warm as she savored her new title, and she realized the man cradling her hand in his was now her husband.
“Thank you,” Jack said to the captain.
The men all headed down the hallway, with Dole going last and casting an acrid glance over his shoulder.
Chapter 6
Jack watched the men go. They left behind two lanterns. When the door to the outer chamber closed, he turned and grasped Lucy’s hands. “I cannot thank you enough.”
She swallowed hard. “You’re welcome, Jack.”
His heart pounded as he looked down at her. At last he had his greatest longing fulfilled, only to be snatched away from him. “We’ve got to be realistic.”
“God can do a miracle.”
