Ruse of Love

by Jerri Hines

  “Hyrne? At this time of the year?”

  Pierce Cutler entered the room. Pressing down the front of his waistcoat, he ignored the need to be announced. His normal immaculate appearance seemed slightly amiss. His shirt, bunched out over his waist, seemed to have been hastily tucked into his pants; his tie off center. Moreover, his forehead glistened with sweat.

  “It is not your concern, Pierce,” Reed stated heatedly. “Come, Rebekah.”

  “I’m not going, Uncle Adam. I’m afraid you have made an unnecessary trip,” she spoke, a determined gleam in her eyes. “You turned me out that day. You called me down to your business and told me I was no longer your concern. I will hold you to your own words. You threw me out on the streets without a penny. Within minutes, I was abducted. If not for you, I would have been married to Ian. He would have died happy.”

  Reed’s tempered flared. His eyes burned at her. “How dare you! I will wait no longer. You will stop with your lies. Whether by your inclination or by force, you will leave with me.”

  Reed’s forward progress was halted abruptly by Cutler. “Leave her alone if you value your reputation, Reed.”

  “Nothing changes legally, Mr. Cutler,” Deane stated. He walked to her uncle’s side. “Let’s not make matters worse than they have to be. Mr. Reed is prepared to be exceedingly generous to Mrs. Daventry.”

  “I don’t think there will be a need. I’m certain you can see what this might look like, Adam. Ian asked me to see to Miss Morse’s welfare, which I intend to do,” Pierce Cutler’s voice resonated in the small room. “Relent her guardianship and we’ll make it look as though as is as you wish it to be this way. Esther has offered to care for her without issue. Also, Mary Polly has also opened our home, if needed, to the girl. It will be known it was Ian’s wish. All can be contained in a positive light for everyone concerned…if it is as Ian set out in his will. Otherwise, I’m afraid, the investigation will continue, especially with the words the girl just spoke.”

  “How dare you insinuate I had anything to do with Layton’s plot? As you can plainly see, I, too, was used to get at Rebekah.”

  “Exactly,” Cutler uttered emphatically. “Your actions allowed Layton to execute his plan.”

  “Not acceptable! I will have all of you arrested…”

  “Stop, Uncle Adam. Stop,” Rebekah cried. “This will be settled today. You will understand I will never set foot in your home again.” She walked behind the desk. “Do you mind, Mr. Peterson?”

  Peterson rose and stood behind her while she sat in the chair. She pulled open the bottom drawer and placed the papers on top of the desk. She prayed she wasn’t wrong. At times Ian wrote poems and ballads for his enjoyment. He would share them with her when no one else was around. He would hide them in his desk in Charles Town.

  Had he done the same here? Ian would never have mentioned the book to Daniel if it didn’t hold something to hold against her uncle. If he said he would never relent it, it had to hold something… Please, God, let Ian have left it here. She lifted a strand of ribbon and a false bottom was exposed. Relief flooded her. He had brought it to Lyon’s Main.

  She picked up a small narrow book. She had no need to open it. She looked up at her uncle.

  Pierce Cutler maneuvered himself between Rebekah and her uncle. He reached for the book. “I believe I know what to do with this.”

  Averse to releasing the gift, Cutler bent down for her ears only. “Ian meant to give this to me, but unfortunately was unable to before his death. He told me that you would know where he kept it. This scene could have well been avoided if only you would have talked with me. I’m on your side, Miss Morse. I gave my word to protect and look after you.”

  Her fingers gripped tightly to the bound book. Hesitant, she whispered, “My siblings.”

  “Trust me,” he said and took the book from her hands. “Now, go to your room. I will send for you when all is complete.”

  Rebekah nodded. She walked hurriedly to the doorway. Pausing briefly, she glanced back at her uncle and met his eyes. She could not mistake the hate that illuminated from them. She picked up her skirt and raced up the stairs.

  * * * *

  Rebekah dismissed the young girl, but the house blackie hesitated, looking confused. Rebekah sighed heavily. A servant had no right to stay after being dismissed! Ignoring the girl, Rebekah turned back to the mirror and stared blankly at her reflection. She heard the door creak open. Glancing back, the girl had gone. Finally! She wanted only to be alone with her thoughts and memories; to remember a time when she had been happy.

  An all-encompassing grief engulfed her. Tomorrow had no hold on her nor roused any care whether the sun ever rose again. She had been happy once upon a time, long ago. If she closed her eyes tightly enough she could hear whispers, laughter of another time. The whispers of laughter faded, replaced with a vision of a man laughing—a harsh, horrifying laugh, taunting her.

  Oh, of all what she had done? How could she have given herself so freely to such a man? A man who had no qualms of selling her to the highest bidder! Ransom from Ian; blackmail from his brother. Revenge, Tobias had said plainly, had been all Black Rory had lived for.

  Revenge he obtained. For a transitory moment when she had woken, she had thought he had cared. He left her alive, but gradually she realized he wreaked his revenge again on his nemesis. He had to have known.

  She had served as a pawn, an unwitting pawn, against a man who held her in contempt. In her uncle’s eyes, she could not help but know what he would think of her. She could hear his words before he spoke them. No better than a whore! She had no defense for her actions…her desires.

  Faces appeared before her. Ian, poor sweet Ian. He thought she better than what she was. Wanting to save her, to make a difference in her life, to give his meaning. Her siblings, Daniel, Paul, Ruby, Peter...she had failed them all, including her beloved father, who she failed above all else. It would have been better if she had never survived.

  At least now all was set. As her guardian, Mr. Cutler had set the estate the way Ian had requested. Ian’s wishes had been honored. The plantations fell to the Ian’s nephews and Esther. She herself had little to worry about; she had been well-taken care of. Mr. Cutler told her she was now an heiress. An heiress…

  In the candlelight, her reflection stared back at her. Her lower lip trembled; tears burned in her eyes. She could still feel his hands running through her hair; hear him whispering how beautiful she was; how he loved her hair, her beautiful, thick hair. How he loved to brush it out as she lay in bed with him.

  She remembered the time when she wanted nothing more than to be thought pretty. How she envied Katy dressed so prettily in the most gorgeous of gowns, so soft, smooth to the touch. Her hair swept up in the most becoming of manners. But now she wanted only to disappear. To her side, Barney nudged her, but to no avail. Taking her hair in one hand, she raised her other with shears…

  “Rebekah! Oh, my God!” A hand halted her progression, quickly withdrawing the shears from her hand. Swirling Rebekah around swiftly, Esther gathered her in her arms. "It's all right. It’s going to be."

  For a moment, Rebekah’s eyes didn’t focus. Barney barked frantically. From the corner of her eye, someone grabbed her dog and led him out.

  Suddenly, she recoiled from Esther's arms and cried, "Oh, no, no." She backed away until she hit the wall. Slipping slowly down, she ended up on the floor. "No, I don't deserve this. Can't you see? I will only embarrass you and you have done too much. I thought I was well forgotten. He told me so. He said I was abandoned and alone. It would be better if I was…you don’t understand…”

  “Rebekah.” Esther leaned next to her. Her arm rounded her shoulder. “What is wrong?” she asked gently, calmly. “We can't help you if we don't know.”

  “You will hate me,” she uttered.

  “I could never hate you, Rebekah.”

  She gripped tightly to Esther's hands as if gasping for air. She whispered, “You will. Ever
yone will. Oh, God, Esther. Help me.”

  Esther pulled Rebekah affectionately into her arms. Esther’s voice soothed the disturbed girl. “Tell me, Rebekah."

  Rebekah’s lips pursed shut. Water flowed freely down her cheeks. Then as quickly as falling over a cliff, she uttered, “Oh, Esther. I…” Her breathing became rapid. She felt faint. Finally she drew in and cried, “I’m with child. I’m going to have Black Rory’s child.”

  Her spoken words echoed in the chamber. For a seeming eternity, the stiffened silence swallowed the room. Feeling Esther's hands stroking her head, Rebekah sobbed uncontrollably. Slowly, the water flowing down her cheeks ceased. Wiped dry by her trembling hands, Rebekah broke from the comforting arms.

  Candlelight illuminated the room, throwing light on the two women sitting in it. The door was shut tight, the curtains drawn. Rebekah glanced back at Esther, who sat quietly staring at her. Her eyes reflected pain, compassion, pity...Rebekah wasn't certain. All she knew in that moment was an insuppressible desire to run, but a hand reached out.

  Caressing Rebekah's face gently, Esther spoke softly, "Don't do this to yourself, Rebekah. This isn't yours. It is where my guilt lies."

  "No," Rebekah's voice uttered in a low, despondent tone. "I...only...Oh, I don't know what to do." Her voice quivered with tears welling once more.

  "Let's have none of this." The older woman's hand took hold of Rebekah's. "There's so much, so much you don't know." Her other hand dried stray tears. "It is time to make all right. My husband created this mess. If not for me, you would not be here now."

  Doubts languished in Rebekah's eyes. "You don't have to say that. It is something I will have to deal with..."

  "But not alone, Rebekah. Not alone. Listen for only a moment. I should have told you sooner. God knows all should have been said long before now. Oh, my dear, you are so much like..." She paused and breathed in deeply. "Ian cared so much for you. I wish all had turned out as it should have, but it will work out. You will see. It was I who invited you over, or should I say your new aunt. In truth, only to see you. I was so taken aback by the way you were treated when you came, when I talked to your aunt, I had to do something. So I struck up a friendship with Constance.

  "Striking up the friendship with Ian was quite by accident. I loved Ian as if he was my own. When you met him, life came back in him. It was as if his life had purpose again. My heart sang, for I imagined all would work out." A slight smile appeared as she remembered. "He became a willing accomplice in this conspiracy. He loved you. You can take comfort with that knowledge. It is important to know you are in life no matter where you go."

  "I know he did," Rebekah whispered and leaned to Esther once more. Esther pulled her back in her arms.

  "I was so happy, especially when Katie joined your little group. I confess I wasn't fond of Constance...your aunt, but it eased my conscience watching you. Until Layton...I have no delusions about my husband. Twenty years ago he was a different man, but time changed him. He became obsessed with another mistress…gambling. I didn’t recognize it for a long time. He lost everything, as is evident. I stand here today living on your goodwill, knowing I have only my husband to blame. Blame for all, Rebekah. He suspected, but it wasn't until he found the papers Peterson sent back to Ian. I didn't even know what Ian had planned until then.

  "Layton was beyond reason, but I never thought he would do as he did. It is as if I never knew him. To try to harm such an innocent as you. And now you have taken on all this guilt."

  "Why? Why would you do all this for me?"

  “Because there is much you don’t know. So much,” Esther pulled Rebekah back to look into her eyes. Her face softened. “You have his eyes. Davie’s eyes.”

  “Davie?”

  “My brother. Davie—David. I’m afraid he is the reason for your uncle’s hatred toward you. His name was David Montgomery. He was your father.”

  Rebekah pushed back from Esther. “Father? No, you make no sense. My father was Rodger Morse. My mother…”

  “Oh, my sweet! It was a tale never meant to be told.” Esther shook her head. Water welled in her eyes. “Your mother was Priscilla’s sister, Helen. Helen was your mother. Davie wanted nothing more in the world than to marry her. They loved each other greatly, but your mother was already engaged to Adam Reed. Helen tried to break off the engagement, but Davie drowned coming back from New York when his ship went down off the coastline.

  “Helen didn’t discover she carried you until after she married Adam. He would have nothing to do with you. Priscilla offered to take you upon your birth. It was a necessity. Adam hated you all the more when Helen bore him no children of his own. She suffered greatly, Rebekah, but took solace in the fact that you were with Priscilla and happy.

  “When…when you were sent here after the death of Priscilla and Rodger, Helen was under no illusions of what it would mean to you. We plotted for your welfare. Then Helen herself succumbed to the sickness. Then all fell on my shoulders. But fate intervened. Ian took to you. If only Layton hadn’t…Ian would have married you, taking you away from that monster.

  “When you disappeared, I was frantic. You can’t imagine my relief, seeing you walk into Lyon’s Main. I can’t take back what you endured. I can’t imagine…Black Rory…but we will see to you and the child…”

  Rebekah sat in confused silence. Her eyes searched the woman, desperately trying to make sense of all she had told her. She uttered under her breath, “You think he raped me? Is that what you think?”

  “My sweet,” Esther said solicitously. “He did. No gentleman would have treated you in that fashion.”

  “Did he?” Rebekah asked, confusion reigning in her voice. Suddenly, her hand swept over her mouth. “I don’t know. I didn’t stop him. I never told him no. He seemed to think it payment for saving me.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Rory saved me. I thought he cared. I cared. Layton’s men…they planned…I would have been dead.”

  “I know, Rebekah. And I also saw well your bruises the night you were brought back. It is mine to live with that Layton planned to use your death to inflict pain on Ian with hopes of ending his life, but love isn’t a reward, Rebekah.

  “I have seen you, held you since all happened. You wake with dreams. You cry out in the dark.”

  Rebekah, as if in a trance, shook her head. “No, he was gentle. He didn’t want to hurt me. He protected me. I had nothing else.”

  “Rebekah, he used you,” Esther stated plainly. “In time you will accept all, but it will take time. Now although I have no intent to be harsh, you need to comprehend that Black Rory used you for money. You need to realize he sold you out to the highest bidder.”

  Unconsciously, Rebekah nodded, pressing her lips together tightly. She found breathing difficult, as if a stone was upon her chest. “Oh, my God, what am I to do?”

  Collapsing into Esther’s arms, Rebekah wept. Esther rocked her. “You are not alone, Rebekah. Pierce is a dear family friend. He was Davie’s best friend as well as with Ian’s father. We are going to take care of you and see you through everything so that you can have the life you deserve after this. And you will, Rebekah. You will.”

  Chapter Seven

  Word filtered down through the ranks that the Southern Army was in bad need of leadership. Jonathan spent no better than a week to discover the truth within the rumors. The whole of the last week had been nothing less than chaotic. Major-General Robert Howe, the commander of the Southern Division of the Continental Army, seemed to be beating to a different drum than the South Carolina militia. Colonel Percy assumed the militia had jurisdiction and the Charles Town council dictated their opinions freely. Jonathan began to understand the difficulties that Howe faced.

  In his years in the army he dealt with many a personality. Egos ran high. But this! This was beyond the point of endurance. Everyone thought they were in charge. Maneuvering with political overtones was abundant. His head pounded; his eyes hurt. He knew only one thing for certain. He would never
be able to get the inoculation system in place in this atmosphere. He would risk an epidemic if he didn't have full cooperation.

  The highlight of his trip had been the brief stopover in Williamsburg. For one night, he enjoyed a warm meal and family: Lydia, Lanson, and the bright cheery face of his son—a fleeting remembrance of why he fought this fight. He needed to etch his son’s face into his heart. Without it, he would be encompassed by the finality of the price his family had paid for this freedom.

  Death. The depressing reality of the loss suffered for the greater good of all...He hoped and prayed that his father and brother had not died in vain. Their ghosts walked the streets of Williamsburg amid the echoes of the cry Give me liberty or give me death! He, too, had once held the cry to the fervor of freedom.

  The words his father spoke the night the magazine had been raided resounded in him. “Our dream of freedom isn’t going to disappear as our guns have. It will only grow stronger. With each action they take, we will only get stronger.”

  Jonathan clung to those words and hoped that in the end they would ring true. At times, if he was honest with himself, he questioned whether the price would be worth the cost. Perhaps that was the reason he pressed onward—so he would not think. Because the loss was so painful that the only choice he had was not to stop, for he would not survive if he contemplated the pain.

  Jonathan talked to Lanson into the wee hours of the morning the day he left Williamsburg. At least guilt did not follow him over his father’s shop. The silversmith shop once more prospered with thanks to Lanson and his keen sense of detail that he had once used when he worked for the network.

  Seeing little William happy and jovial reminded Jonathan of the debt he owed both Lydia and Lanson. The little mite had grown in leaps and bounds since Christmas. If the absence of his father bothered the young lad, it wasn’t evident in his manner. A familiar pain surged through his heart when his son smiled up at him. The boy had his mother’s smile and her eyes. Here he thought himself well over Catherine’s betrayal and death.