by Jerri Hines
A surge of hope swelled as she walked quietly down the backstairs into the kitchen. She glanced once more back over her shoulder, pushing open the door to her freedom. She paused only a moment, praying never to see this house again. Jasper, Ian’s man, waited for her.
Bounding down the garden lane, she halted. She froze on the sight. Jasper, a large elderly black man, was restrained by a couple of houseboys. Jasper’s eyes were enraged. Fear flooded her.
“Miss Morse.” Angus, a grizzled black man dressed in livery, stood by a carriage with the door open wide. “Your uncle has requested your presence down at Reed and Sandler without delay.”
Rebekah looked at Jasper and back at Angus. “Release him,” she said in a low voice. “Release him and I will go.”
Angus nodded to the two who detained Ian’s servant. Jasper fell forward. Rebekah met his eyes and shook her head. Her eyes beseeched Jasper. Go back. No good will come from resistance.
With reluctance, Jasper backed up a few feet. Rebekah turned back to the carriage and stepped in it.
Coming to an abrupt stop in front of a brick building untouched by the fire, Rebekah exited the carriage. Her nose wrinkled with the foul stench about the place. Low tide. She glanced up at the sign above the door, Reed & Sandler. One quick glance behind her told of the extensive damage of the fire with the smoky ruins of buildings, leaving only blackened crumbling walls with burnt chimneys. She turned her attention back to the door in front of her. Bells tolled in the distance as her hand twisted the handle, allowing entrance into the establishment.
Rebekah swallowed hard, trying desperately to build up her resolution confronting her from Uncle Adam’s request for her presence. Although she had made the trip several times before, she had never gone unescorted down to the area and especially at this time of day. The sun would be setting soon, but if Rebekah had learned anything in almost three years she lived in Charles Town, one did not question her uncle.
She closed the door tightly behind her. She dreaded this meeting her uncle requested beyond words. She hadn't a clue how he could have discovered Ian’s plan for her, but she had never been summoned down to his place of work before. That alone scared her.
Rebekah heard footsteps down the hall. Startled momentarily, Rebekah touched a hand to her throat. Her breathing eased seeing it was only Ralph Deane, her uncle's clerk, a relatively young man from Boston who was apprenticing under her uncle. A short man, already with a receding hairline, he gave her a tentative smile, closing the open ledger in his hands.
"Saints above, girl! What are you doing down here by yourself?"
"Uncle Adam sent for me," she replied.
"Truly? At this time of day? Wasn't expecting you. He didn’t say anything," he said simply, nervously looking over his shoulder. "Are you certain he wanted to see you down here?"
"He sent the carriage for me," Rebekah said, pushing back her cloak’s hood. She wanted to ask why would she have come if he hadn't demanded it. She leaned over slightly. "So you haven't an idea of why he sent for me?"
He shook his head slightly, but was unable to respond before her uncle entered the room.
"Rebekah, don't tarry. Come. I want to get this over with. I have so much to do this night."
“Yes, Uncle Adam," she said dutifully. She followed him silently down the dark hall. Her stomach turned. Whatever it is—don't cry, she told herself. She patted her hair, making sure it was in place. He had insisted she keep it drawn back tightly from her brow and plaited in an unwieldy knob at her nape. She dressed in her normal manner, drab and dowdy, wearing a plain dove gray twill dress as her uncle had dictated to her. Yet, trepidation overwhelmed her. He had not called her down this day for her appearance.
“Rebekah?”
Her uncle gestured for her to enter his office, closing the door soundly behind her. “Sit.”
She did as he commanded and sank into the open chair without a word. Her eyes widened, tentatively meeting her uncle’s eyes. An intimidating sight, he was a big man, but it was his manner that instilled fear in Rebekah. Her dearly loved father had been larger, but never, never had he once scared her or threatened her.
Her uncle stared at her as though there was something distasteful about her. He bit his bottom lip and grimaced as if he was in pain. “I have prayed about you, Rebekah. I had been afraid, given your advanced age upon your arrival. It seems my concerns were justified. I believe I had warned you what would happen if you didn’t follow my rules, Rebekah.”
Her face fell. “Uncle Adam, I don’t know what you are talking about. I have held to our agreement. I have cared for Aunt Constance as you asked. I have kept up the household. I have cared for my brothers and sisters. I have dressed in the manner you requested. I haven’t gone nor have I asked to participate in your social events. What have I done that has gone against what you wanted me to do?”
He sat quietly. His dark eyes were crystal clear, but absolutely furious. “As I had feared upon your appearance, I have had a complaint about your wanton behavior. You have broken our agreement. You are to leave my house and Charles Town immediately.”
His fuming anger burst forth on her. His hand clenched around a letter and it crunched in his fist. “You have insulted me for the last time. I abhor that you have made me come to this decision.”
Stunned, Rebekah sat in shock, unable to utter a defense. She gripped the arm of the chair. “Uncle Adam, I have done nothing…”
He ignored her. “I have apologized to God for your ingratitude. It is my hope one day for you to find forgiveness…”
Suddenly, anger raged in her. She exploded. “For what? What have I done? I have waited upon your wife as if I was a house servant. I have not broken my word…you can’t separate us. You can’t, Uncle Adam. I have done everything to keep us together. It was what Father…”
He banged his fist on his desk, shaking it so hard that papers fell to the floor. He snapped, “You will not raise your voice to me. I ignored the first two gentlemen who asked to call on you, probably believing that your connection to me was the reason behind the request, but when a man of the integrity of Layton Daventry comes reluctantly and relays the information that my niece has thrown herself at his brother, trying desperately to compromise him, I can take no more! I had tried to let you have friends, but I now see…”
“Ian Cahill! This is about Ian,” Rebekah cried, raking her mind. “He is an invalid. I have only shown him the greatest concern when Aunt Constance visited Mrs. Daventry . I have never…”
“Then why do I hold a paper in my hand?” He breathed in deeply, but the rage spewed out of his eyes. The paper crunched in his hand before her. “To try to use a poor boy such as Ian in this manner is unforgivable and will not happen in my house!”
He ran his hand across his chin, composing himself somewhat. “As I cautioned you in the beginning, because of your actions, I could have chosen to cast the lot of you out and with good reason. But I have decided not to punish the innocent for your behavior, but let me make my position clear. I do so only with the understanding that you will have nothing more to do with my family. You are gone. You are no longer part of this family. Do not try to make contact. Your name will no longer be mentioned in our house. If you try to make contact, your siblings will join you. I assure you I will hold to my word.”
He stood and walked silently around his desk to a back door. He opened it.
“I will allot you one last service. I have seen you have passage on the next ship out of port, which will be leaving in the morn for Boston. Where you stay this night is your choice, but you will be gone with the morning tide. Heed my warning well, Rebekah. Do not come back or go anywhere my name will be smeared by your behavior.” He called out, “Jemmy, can you show her out?”
Without ceremony, her uncle turned his back on her. The whole of the conversation was over. She would not have the chance to defend herself. She was turned out.
Chapter Three
Stunned, Rebekah walked out
the door in a daze. The slamming of the door echoed in the back alley.
Her wicker valise sat at the door. The man, Jemmy, reached down and slung it into her arms. She felt rough hands grab her. She frantically pushed back toward the door.
“No, no,” she screamed. “Uncle Adam, please. Don’t do this! Where am I to go? Uncle Adam!”
No verbal response came from her uncle. The slamming of the door echoed in the back alley. Rebekah stared blankly at the closed entry way.
“Come on, ma’am. Git a move on.”
Rebekah glanced back at the man. Her heart pounded wildly. The filthy man pushed her away from the building.
“Mr. Reed wants ya off. Said to make s’re ya left. Guess ya kin say I’m yo’ escort.”
He laughed a horrible laugh, which resounded in her ear. She swallowed hard.
“Leave me alone and don’t touch me.” Immediately, her arm recoiled as he reached for it. “I can walk by myself.”
She turned, clutching tightly to her case. She shuddered, unable to move or breathe the suddenly oppressive air. Her legs trembled beneath her. Oh, my Lord, what am I going to do? Never had she felt such fear. The darkening light held shadows in the alleyway. The day was at its end and she was alone on the docks.
Her mind raced. She had to get to Ian. He would take her in. Was it not his plan? But would he feel the same knowing she had been disowned and thrown into the streets…disgraced?
Brushing back the wisps of fallen hair from her face, she began to walk toward the street. She looked up, hearing a whip on a horse’s back. In the next breath, horses’ hoofs pounded on the stone street in front of her. She ran to the corner. To her horror, she watched in disbelief as her uncle’s carriage rode down the street, turned the corner, and disappeared from sight. Any thought of her uncle relenting dissipated. Her uncle had left her alone on the docks.
Her hands tightened her hold on the bag, grasping tightly to anything. She had to get a grip on her hysteria. She had only to walk to Ian’s; it was not a long walk. Had she not walked it many times? But with others and in the daylight!
Looking over her shoulder, she saw that man, Jemmy, walked toward her. She took off up the street. Disregarding a comment from a large brawny sailor, she hastened her steps. She had only one thought—to get to Ian’s. Her mind rambled with millions of thoughts, trying frantically to make sense of this day.
Engrossed in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the sound of a wagon pulling to a stop not far from her or the rapid footsteps racing toward her. Abruptly, a hand clamped down on her mouth. Unable to scream, she fought. Dropping the bag, she kicked and clawed at her assailant. The next moment, she felt a rope bind her hands and the sensation of being dragged down the back alley. For a brief instant, the hand freed her mouth.
She screamed, but this time a hand slapped her back down. Immediately, a gag rounded her mouth and was tied tightly so no noise would be heard. She couldn’t see what was going on around her, but she felt hands go around her and throw her in the back of a wagon. Her head hit the side of the wagon. Someone had a hold of her feet and bound them tightly. The last thing she remembered before the wagon moved was a blanket, a throw of some sort, being thrown over her.
She could hear the sounds of the streets of Charles Town as the wheels of the wagon rolled slowly through the city. Try as she might, she couldn’t move or make a noise. Her mind reeled. Oh, God! What was happening?
Rebekah traveled for hours it seemed. Her head hurt; her muscles cramped. She was going to be badly battered and bruised. Anger burned inside her by the time she felt the rhythm of the wagon slow to a stop. She felt a jar of the wagon and then a swish as the blanket was removed.
A hand grasped her feet and jerked her to the edge of the wagon. She twisted and squirmed wildly.
“Ah, t’ere’s she is. She ain’t gonna be so feisty now!”
Panic gripped Rebekah. Taking a moment for her eyes to adjust, she stared up at her two accosters. Oh, my God, they were hoodlums. Was it the man from her uncle’s…that Jemmy?
“Be careful, Louie,” Jemmy uttered behind his companion. Fidgeting with his hat, he took it off and squeezed it nervously in his hands. Looking over his shoulder, he jumped at an owl hooting. “Don’t feel right and all. She’s a lady and what if they show up?”
Tall and lanky, his companion laughed. In the moonlight, Rebekah could see the clear dark eyes flared hotly at his associate. His pox-scarred face sneered contempt at the attempt to spoil his fun.
“We agreed to meet in the morning. Got a few hours. Ain’t gonna care how I entertain myself til then. Ain’t gonna matter none anyhow.” He laughed again. “Oh, come on, little lady. We ’ust wanna have a little fun before we finish our job.”
Louie began to untie the bonds of her legs. She felt his hand run over her calves. She squirmed and tried to recoil.
“Ain’t gonna do no good. No body here.” He pulled the gag from her mouth. “Go ’head scream all ya want. I lak it w’en ya do.”
Louie pulled her from the wagon, letting her fall to the ground. Rebekah screamed. Jemmy pushed Louie.
“Let’s ’ust git it dun. Don’t lak it one bit. Bad ’nough to have to do her in. Don’t understand why he wants to see it.”
“He wants it done a certain way. Ain’t for us to say. We’re getting paid real well.” Louie snarled, baring his teeth in an expression few would have mistaken for a smile. “We got thangs set as ordered. We got time. Now don’t go spoiling my fun!”
Louie reached down for Rebekah. She kicked him.
“Gawd almighty!” He lurched at her. She scrambled to her feet, trying to stay balanced with her hands tied in front of her. He jerked her back, but she kneed him between his legs.
“Bitch!” Louie doubled over in pain. “Now it’s gonna hurt!”
Unbalanced, Rebekah tried to run. Her cloak and skirt tangled her feet and sent her sprawling on the ground. Scrambling back on her feet, she grabbed the front of her skirt and poised for flight. Louie lunged at her, knocking her hard against the ground. He turned her over. Ripping the clasp to her cloak, he grabbed at the bodice of her dress. She heard a rip and felt hands groping at her. She screamed wildly.
A sudden vibration beneath her warned her that riders were coming. She screamed again, hoping someone would hear her…rescue her. The sound of horses’ hooves rapidly descended on them. Her head twisted to the side to see a sight of men on horses jumping a ditch, landing in their stead.
Louie stood. Immediately, a shot rang out. Louie’s blood-drenched body fell face down next to her. Rebekah recoiled in shock, watching blood ooze freely over the ground. Frantically, she tried to hold the tatters of her dress against her with her bound hands. Her legs unconsciously pushed against the ground backwards. Horses tethered around her. Voices surrounded her as terror flooded her.
Demands illuminated around her, but she couldn’t comprehend any of them. Her eyes remained frozen on Louie’s dead body. Suddenly, a horse nudged her, breaking her from her trance.
“Girl, have you no voice?”
In the shadow of the night, she felt eyes survey her. She swirled around to the rider who spoke. He moved his horse in front of her. She had never seen him before, but she knew immediately who he was. His reputation preceded him.
Tall and menacing, his long dark hair was pulled back in a queue. His brimmed hat covered half his face, with a patch over his right eye. A large scar cut through his cheek on that side, adding to the implacable-looking man’s appearance of strong resolution and set purpose. Only one man fit the infamous description she now saw in the flesh: Rory Ellis—Black Rory, the notorious Tory raider. And she had thought the day couldn’t have gotten any worse!
Suddenly, a screeched resounded. Rebekah jerked around to see Jemmy fall to his knees. The whole of his body shook; his eyes shone with stark fear. He flung up his shaking hand toward her. His voice faded to a faintness that was pitiable and dreadful.
“She’s Old Man Reed’s niece. Sh
e is. Think of the ransom ya could get. I’ll help ya. I can.”
Rebekah watched in contempt Jemmy’s effort to sell her out to try to save his skin! She laughed a hysterical laugh.
“Shut up, you idiot! A niece that he turned out!” she cried. With all the day’s events compressed within her, suddenly a rage emerged. She exploded, “Turned out right into your hands! Are you in your right mind that he would pay a ransom when he obviously was trying to rid himself of me!”
Hair hung in her eyes, but she was unable to push it back out of her face. She turned back to the one-eyed raider. He flashed a wry smile.
She needed no warning. She realized plainly she still was in dire straits, fraught with danger. No, don’t become panic-stricken. He has no interest in you. Think.
“Thank you for your appearance. Obviously…” she spoke to the man whose attention lay upon her. Her voice quivered. “I don’t want to impose on your goodness, but if only you could untie the ropes, I could be on my way…maybe tell me which way is Charles Town…”
His horse scooted over in her way. “What is your name?” he asked. No, demanded.
She hesitated. But to what end? The scoundrel that had abducted her would soon tell them, she thought. “Rebekah, Rebekah Morse,” she repeated the words in the same tone, but sunk to a whisper. She tilted her head back in an attempt to regain some sort of dignity, but her fingers clutched tightly to her torn bodice.
To her dismay, he chuckled. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Tobias, who did the braggart say she is?”
From her vantage point she couldn’t see who he was talking to, but his voice echoed behind her. “Adam Reed’s niece…”
“I can help ya’. I can. I told Louie not to touch her. She’s a lady and all. ’ust had a job to do. That’s all…,” Jemmy interrupted.
Rory rode to the cowering man. “You are telling me she’s Adam Reed’s niece. And he hired you to do what exactly…?”
