My Lord Beaumont

by Unknown

  She shook her head. "Junta and I have been at pains to hide it for more than a month. I pretended I hadn't noticed, of course, since she wouldn't confide in me, but I knew." She forced a laugh that wasn't quite a laugh. "The amusing part of it was that I truly thought that, once I told you today, for I meant to, you would do right by her. That is amusing, isn't it?"

  Adrian's face hardened, his eyes narrowing. "If she was with child, which I take leave to doubt, then you mistake in thinking it mine."

  "You're certain it couldn't be?" Sophia asked coldly.

  "Reasonably certain."

  "Who's then?"

  "Perhaps you should ask our 'mutual friend'," Adrian snapped, looking away from her to stare stonily at the far wall.

  "Panther?" She saw his startled look but could feel no gratification. "Yes. She told me about him, all about him. He fathered no child on Danielle."

  Adrian lifted a brow. "You are ferocious in your defense of her, my dear. It does you credit. However, if she told you all, then you must allow that its a distinct possibility. A strong probability, in fact."

  "There is no possibility of it," Sophia said angrily.

  Both dark brows rose, and cynical amusement crept into his cold gray eyes. "How is it that you're so certain, I wonder?"

  "In the first place, guttersnipe or not, Danielle is a lady, and she would not have done that, not when she loved you, for she did. God only knows why, for you don't deserve it! In the second, Panther was—is--a friend, nothing more."

  Adrian looked away from her, studying his hands now, where they dangled between his knees, clenching and unclenching them in a methodical sort of way. "You had something else to add in her defense?"

  Sophia stomped her foot. "I won't defend her to you! You don't deserve her. At least this Panther seems to love her!"

  He looked at her then, and there was something in his eyes, despite the mask of indifference he wore, that plucked at her heart and drew her anger away. She realized then that he was a complete fraud. He was hurting, in such pain that he scarcely knew how to comprehend it and lashing out angrily, like a wounded bear, at every attempt to touch the wound. "When did you meet up with Panther? How long ago?" she asked quietly.

  He shrugged with a great show of indifference. "Three and a half, perhaps four months ago. What possible difference could that make? Regardless of what she told you, she was most taken with the savage. She gave it all away, you see, when he was wounded, defending her. You'll be amused to know, it took me completely by surprise. I hadn't realized what a faithless chit she was. If she is with child, as you suspect, then she has duped us both."

  Sophia gaped at him. "You haven't listened to a word I've said! And there's no mistaking her state! She's every bit of five months gone! Do you mean to accuse her now of sleeping with the captain and crew of the Lady Dorinda?"

  Adrian whirled to look at her, his expression so stunned it might have been ludicrous if the matter hadn't been so serious. "You mistake," he managed hoarsely.

  Sophia glared at him. "I mistake not! Junta has a great deal of knowledge about such things, as you might suppose! She told me Danielle would bear that child in the spring!"

  For several moments more, the look of stunned incredulity remained before a surge of such anger came to his face that Sophia felt a spurt of fear. "I'll kill her," he ground out furiously. "I'll wring her lovely, lying neck! I'll kill them both! That cheating, faithless, lying bitch! To take my child, mine, to be raised amongst the savages!"

  Sophia beat him to the door, barring his passage. She swallowed her fear with an effort. "What did you expect her to do, you great bloody fool! Did you think she would gift you with your bastard here? She didn't want to embarrass you! Where else did she have to go when she knew you didn't want her?"

  "Damn you!" he exploded. "I never stopped wanting her! Never! Get out of my way, Sophie!"

  "Lust!" Sophia exclaimed in disgust, refusing to budge.

  "What do you know of it?" he ground out and struck the door panel beside her head with such force that she was surprised the blow wasn't followed by the sound of splintering wood. "I loved her. God! I loved her!"

  Sophia studied him doubtfully a moment, but she saw the rage had receded and left only pain in its place. She reached for him tentatively, to offer what comfort she could, though she fully expected him to reject it. He surprised her by accepting the offer, hugging her tightly in return, burying his face against her neck. "I loved her."

  She reached up to stroke his hair, feeling the most peculiar maternal sense wash over her. She wondered if his mother had ever offered her son comfort. Somehow she doubted it. "You love her still," she said quietly.

  He pulled away from her and paced the room in agitation. After a moment, he seemed to collect himself. He made the attempt to retrieve his cold mask of indifference and failed miserably. "Foolish of me, was it not?" he asked wryly. "But I could not seem to help myself."

  "It wasn't foolish," Sophia contradicted quietly. "How could you fail to love her? She loves you, you know."

  He shook his head, attempting a derisive smile. "You mistake. Oh, she played at it. She's a very good actress, I'll grant you that. I think she even convinced herself for a time. But she's only a child, when all's said and done, a frightened, lonely child. She wanted to believe it, so she made it so in her mind." He made a sound of self-contempt. "I think she would not have wanted it if she'd known how very painful a thing it is. I think I liked it better when I didn't know what it was."

  Sophia didn't like the way he was talking. "What do you mean to do?"

  He shrugged. "Let her go. I think I've interfered in her life enough, don't you?"

  "I don't!" Sophia said emphatically. "She loves you! Worships you, more like. Don't hand me that balderdash about her not knowing what it is, about her being too young to know. She might very well be young, but she's as much a woman as she is a lady, born to the privilege or not. I see what it is! You think, because she'd left, that it was nothing. You are wrong! Wrong! She left because she loves you!"

  He smiled faintly. "I see my infant has corrupted you. You really should strike 'bloody' from your vocabulary, cousin. It isn't at all the thing." He was silent for several moments. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but let it lie. It's for the best. You would not be comfortable having her by now that you know. And, I confess, I'd long since come to realize I could not bear to wed her to another. I'm not mortally wounded, I assure you. I will set it aside. I'll be a good husband to you, I give you my word."

  Sophia stared at him blankly. "You can't mean to carry that bit of nonsense through! When you love Danielle? You may be fool enough to marry one woman when you love another, but I will not marry you when it's Thomas I love!"

  Such a look of hope came into his eyes then that she was severely put out with him. He didn't have to look quite so relieved! "You will reject my suit?"

  She glared at him. "And bring scandal down upon myself and my family for playing the jilt? No, thank you!"

  "Good God! You expect me to jilt you!" he shook his head. "Don't you see, you little dimwit, that you'd be as surely ruined then?"

  "Damn it! Adrian! Must you make it so complicated? No one knows." She saw his look of disbelief and bit her lip. "Well, hardly anyone, at any rate. Don't you see? If we went together, explained to my father . . . and both wrote to explain the matter to your family, they would have to see we simply aren't suited. Why should either of us bear the stigma? There might be the tiniest bit of a stir, but it could not be so bad as marrying each other and being miserable for the rest of our lives!"

  Adrian frowned thoughtfully for several moments. "It might serve," he said slowly, thoughtfully. "You're certain you're willing to risk it?"

  Sophia nodded, depressing sudden doubts. "I'm quite certain."

  He stood then and moved toward her, taking her into his arms for a brief embrace before he drew back and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll not agr
ee until I've spoken with Thomas."

  Sophia eyed him doubtfully. "If you mean to bully him into asking for me . . . ."

  "Do you love him?"

  She nodded.

  "And you're certain he loves you?"

  She gnawed her lip a moment. "He asked for me . . . before he heard you and I had become engaged. He wouldn't hear of going to father then. But, yes, I think he still does."

  "Then he needs a damned push. He's too slow by half. Don't worry. I won't call him out. I only mean to make certain he knows the field is clear, and that if he doesn't move in . . . and quickly . . . then I'll call him out."

  "You wouldn't!" Sophia gasped, but then she saw the amusement in his eyes. "All right! Bully him a little."

  "Done. I think, perhaps, he should be present when we speak to your father. But that must be soon, I warn you, as soon as they return from Charles Town, for I mean to be on my way today."

  "You're going after her then?" she asked, feeling immense relief.

  "Yes." He released her and turned away.

  "Do you mean to marry her?" she asked tentatively.

  Adrian whirled to look at her, his face a mask of anger. In a moment, however, he thrust it aside. "I suppose I deserved that. But, yes, if she'll have me."

  A sudden, horrible doubt seized her. "Adrian! I just realized. We don't know where she's gone! How will you find her?"

  "I'll find her," he said emphatically.

  "But how?"

  "Ian McDermont will know where they've gone. I feel quite certain that I can persuade him to show me the way."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Adrian paused, looking out over the cultivated fields in surprise. McDermont paused as well, searching for familiar faces among those who labored in the fields. He saw one he knew and called a greeting before he glanced over at Adrian. "Aye. I know what yer thinkin', but the Creeks are a civilized tribe. They farmed these lands long before they ever saw a white man."

  The Indian McDermont had called out to came up to them, eyeing Adrian curiously as he and McDermont greeted each other in the mixture of dialect and hand motions the Indians used. Adrian covertly studied the Indian with similar curiosity.

  He was darker than Panther, noticeably so, in all probability descended from a captured runaway slave considering his very dark coloring and his vaguely negroid features. Few of those Creeks Adrian had seen around Frederica were nearly so dark, ranging in color from a very light bronze to mahogany. Like them, however, he was taller than the average white man, being over six feet in height. He was also heavily tattooed, far more so than any Adrian had seen.

  After several moments in which Adrian had time to finish his cursory scrutiny and become aware to an uncomfortable degree of the interest he and McDermont were attracting, the man turned, gesturing towards a palisade wall in the distance. McDermont apparently thanked him, and, to Adrian's relief, they moved on.

  "Are they here?" Adrian asked when they were alone once more, voicing the question uppermost in his mind.

  "Aye, they're here." He was silent for several moments. "Ye'll not forget what I told ye? They've very rigid codes of behavior. It won't do to offend them. Just watch me if yer in doubt and we should come through this with our scalps in tact."

  "I agreed to those terms, did I not? But, I warn you, I'll not be leaving without Danielle."

  McDermont sent him a sour look. "As it happens, it seems you'll no' be havin' a problem with that. She sleeps now in the tcokofa, the town house, a place where visitors sleep."

  The palisade, Adrian saw without any real surprise, enclosed the Creek Town of Oconee. It might have been the frontier town of Frederica they were entering for all the difference he could discern in the palisade's construction. It had a moat, watch towers, and arrow slits, just as any self-respecting British fort would have.

  The town itself was far from British-like. It was constructed around a plaza. The households McDermont pointed out were not a single dwelling, but rather a cluster of two to four structures. The poorest, or most newly established, households owned two structures; a summer house which was little more than a raised floor with a thatched roof, and a winter house, made of sod. This structure was cylindrical in shape. The Creeks began by digging a circular 'well' into the earth approximately three feet deep and then building the walls upward with sod.

  As they reached the plaza, they came first upon the tcokofa. It was here that the tribe congregated for ceremonials and councils during the winter months or during inclement weather.

  Beyond the tcokofa lay the tcoko-thlako, or square ground. Here, four sheds had been constructed around a square, each placed upon a cardinal compass point, containing nothing more than beds, or benches, with a thatched roof above. These formed a rather rudimentary coliseum where the council of the chiefdom met when weather permitted.

  Beyond this was the chunkey yard. In this broad field, which had been lowered about a foot from the surrounding ground and edged by a short embankment, stood a pole some thirty to forty feet high that was used in several games played by the Creeks. Here the Indians gathered for games, dances, ritual, and public spectacle.

  It was to the square ground that McDermont led Adrian. They gathered the curious along the way. Adrian, looking neither right nor left, and giving every appearance of being completely oblivious, was nonetheless excruciatingly aware of their company. He felt the hair at the nape of his neck prickle in reaction and wondered, a little wryly, if it was already anticipating being removed from his head. He sincerely trusted that those gathering had come to greet them.

  Panther met them at the square ground. Adrian studied him impassively as he greeted McDermont, conversing with him in his native tongue for several minutes before he turned to Adrian. They exchanged a long, measuring stare before Panther extended his hand. "Welcome, friend Beaumont."

  After a fractional hesitation, Adrian grasped the Indian's hand in the gesture that was not quite a handshake. "I came for Danielle," he said evenly, without preamble.

  Panther nodded, giving away nothing of his thoughts. "This I know. I have awaited your coming."

  Adrian studied him a long moment. "And Danielle?"

  Panther shook his head. "Little Red Fox does not know you will come. I would not give up this woman, were she mine, so I know you will not. I know you will wish to take her back, friend Beaumont. For this reason, I do not take her to my huti. I say to her that she must have a time for grief so that she may come to me with whole heart. So I will wait. But I know when I come for her at the place you call Charles Town what is in her heart still. Even so, I bring her to Creek Town because she asks it of me and my heart has hope that this will pass. I accept now that it will not. This way is best for Little Red Fox. My heart is heavy with this, but I know it here," he struck his chest, "and here," he touched his head," and deny it no longer. She will go with you when you go, friend Beaumont."

  Adrian studied him for several moments in silence when he had finished, fighting his jealousy and distrust of the man. He knew, however, that Panther was an honest and honorable man. "I thank you, friend Panther, for caring for Danielle, though I know it is for her sake, and the friendship between you, that this was done."

  Panther inclined his head slightly, in a way that was very like a regal bow. "You will allow us to honor our friendship? Come. You must join us. We will share black drink and the pipe of peace."

  Fortunately, Adrian had been warned to expect it, and he made no demur, though he would have far preferred to simply take Danielle and go. He contained his impatience, therefore, and nodded acceptance, girding himself for the ordeal which McDermont had warned him might well last for hours.

  He greeted and was greeted in turn by the chief and members of the council and was seated in a place of honor. Around him, the men conversed with subdued dignity. Food was prepared, and they feasted. Hours passed sluggishly. He was treated to the ceremony of the black drink, which was served in huge conch
shells. Pipes and tobacco were produced and all smoked while they awaited their turn at the pipe of peace. Adrian drank the black drink reluctantly. It's name alone was enough, he thought wryly, to put anyone off.

  It wasn't like coffee or tea either except that it was similarly bitter in taste. It contained another property of those drinks, as well. It produced a similar feeling of clear-headedness and overall vitality, which only increased Adrian's impatience to be done.

  He found, however, that they were expected to stay the night, not surprising since they were feted until well nigh dusk. Adrian wasn't best pleased with this intelligence. Still, it was with a sense of inevitability that he joined Panther and McDermont and left the tcoko-thlako.

  Fresh air, away from the stench of stale tobacco smoke and vomit, had an immediate, beneficial effect, and he was able to look around him once more with some curiosity.

  They came at last to the huti of a prosperous Creek family, evident in the fact that it was made up of a large summer and winter house and two, two story storehouses. They stopped before the winter house, and Panther excused himself and McDermont and indicated that Adrian was to enter. He stared after them for several moments as they turned and walked away and finally, with a mental shrug, turned and followed the narrow, L-shaped corridor that protected the 'hot-house' entrance. He stopped again when he came upon the entrance, studying it dubiously, for it was no more than four feet high. He finally shrugged again mentally, ducked and entered, pausing on the threshold to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom within.

  He saw her then, seated cross-legged on a bench on the far side of the winter house, head bent as she studied something in her hands. She was not yet aware of his presence, for she was apparently deep in thought, and he took the time to study her in the dim light that filtered from the entrance and the small smoke hole at the point of the conical roof.

  The object she studied with such complete absorption, he realized finally with a surge of hope he hadn't allowed himself before, was the locket. He'd hoped to find that she had, in truth, missed him as Panther had indicated.