by Jerri Hines
“Couldn’t have gone far, Georgie Boy !”
Another whack descended on the accomplice. “Told you not to call me by that name!”
A sudden realization of where he had heard that name from the past encompassed Jonathan and fear gripped him. He knew the name, if not recognizing the man: George Wicks, his cousin by marriage, his grandfather’s hired man, notorious for his inhuman cruelty and insatiable appetite for such. He knew only one thing. He had to get Rebekah out of there—now!
From behind him a hand lay on his shoulder. Abruptly turning, Jonathan relaxed for a moment. One of Rory’s men—Tobias, he thought he was called. Blood dripping in his eyes, he nodded to Jonathan to withdraw quietly.
Tobias led Jonathan down past the cellar to the woods where another stood. He grasped Jonathan’s arm and whispered. “Anthony betrayed us. Him and about three others. Figur’ we lost five. Luke I sent back to camp to get the rest. Only have Stevie here.”
“Cutler’s men?”
“All dead.”
“The baby?” Jonathan’s voice choked on the thought of what could have happened.
“Gone with the blackie and that damn screeching maid toward Fairmont. Rebekah caused a distraction. Told the blackie to take to the woods. I got him a horse and helped with the baby and maid while Rebekah ran to the back. It was all we could do to save the baby. She was adamant. The baby was screaming. But with all the noise no one seemed to notice. The last I saw, the two disappeared into the woods down the lane.”
Relief flooded him for a brief moment. That was what the fiend had been yelling about, but Rebekah… “We don’t have time for your men to return nor Cutler’s, if Jasper gets there. I know this animal.”
“I saw also,” Toby said in a low voice without emotion. “The Negro women, the old and the young wet nurse, even the dog… He’s holding only Rory and Rebekah for a more sinister plot.”
“Then we need to move. Obviously, we are outnumbered, but they think all dead. Probably in the mayhem we were overlooked, but we will use it to our advantage.”
“It is my thought. We can enter all three together or in three separate spots…”
“Or,” Jonathan said slowly, eyeing the house, dreading any noise coming from it. “We counter attack. Listen.”
Jonathan held tight to his knife in his mouth. His pistol was held tight in his belt. Ignoring his pounding head, he eased to the kitchen window. Glancing through the broken glass, the old frail body of Aunt Lettie lay drenched in blood, lifeless. Disregarding the scene with only the thought of a guard entering, Jonathan, as quietly as he could, took the edged glass out of its home. He slung up, cutting his arm as he ducked in.
He hadn’t much time, not for the plan to work, not to get out of the house alive, at any rate. The entrance way was clear. Words echoed out from the drawing room where all the attention lay. He would only have one opportunity.
“I am George Wicks! The gentleman from New York!” The cry echoed hauntingly in the room. Jonathan snuck around the corner, eyeing the assembly. Georgie Boy’s face was flushed crimson. Rage illuminated from his eyes. Irately he cried, “I wanted the babe! It won’t be complete without it.”
“We are looking. Can’t have gone far. Give us time!” Jonathan recognized the man, Anthony…the one who betrayed Rory.
“We have no more time, you imbecile!” Without warning, Georgie Boy walked behind the man and raised a knife he held in his hand. In one swift motion, he thrust the sharp blade over the man’s neck. Blood spurted everywhere.
Rebekah screeched. The man fell down dead with his eyes wide in disbelief near Rory, who lay emotionless, but his eye flamed as if fury built inside him. Georgie Boy walked gingerly to Rebekah’s side. She recoiled from his touch, screaming hysterically. “Oh, honey, you’re going to wish it was that quick. I had hoped to sacrifice your little one first, but rest assured she will follow you to your resting place.” His dark eyes flashed fire.
Jonathan watched in horror as Georgie Boy’s hand touched Rebekah’s neck, rounding down to her dress. Heedless of the danger, he had no more time. Without another thought, he lunged forward in the room, diving on the floor toward Rory. Taking all by surprise, he thrust the knife under Rory’s ropes binding his hands and with one swift jerk Rory’s hands were freed.
One man pounced forward. Jonathan drew his pistol and fired. He felt the pistol jump in his hand and saw the flash. The man fell. Suddenly, Rory stood in the mayhem, throwing off the remnants of the ropes that bound him. There would be no yielding; Rory unleashed his fury.
“Fucking bitch!” A hoarse screech twisted out from Georgie Boy’s mouth, even more incensed.
Jonathan wheeled around to see the monster lurch over his balls, where Rebekah had kicked him. Jonathan crawled to his feet, intent on Rebekah. From behind her, he saw the fiend lunge forward with a knife. His arms reached out, yanking her forward, but not completely out of Georgie Boy’s reach. The knife found its mark in her thigh. She shrieked. Wheeling around, she fell to the floor.
A sudden crackle of flames confirmed that Tobias set in motion their plan as well as the blaze. Smoke began to fill the room. Out front, shots rang out as men scattered. Coughing, Jonathan searched through the haze for his objective: Georgie Boy. Jonathan launched toward the man, who was unable to avoid the forceful assault.
With a bellow of rage, Georgie Boy’s arms flailed wildly. Jonathan’s fist slammed into his jaw and Georgie Boy drooped. Jonathan attacked as an enraged beast with no mercy; with every ounce of strength, he struck the insane tormentor. Waylaying him, his hands rounded the man’s throat. Rage filled him. Thoughts of his sister enduring hell at Georgie Boy’s hands; Rebekah; Eliza, just a babe—Jonathan’s hands tightened around the neck.
Weakened hands gripped his, but slowly ebbed off. Jonathan squeezed tighter and tighter.
“Doc! Doc!”
Through the haze, Jonathan searched. The smoke and flames immersed the back of the house. He could only make out movement.
“Rebekah! Doc! She’s bleeding bad.”
Jonathan gasped for air.
“Doc!”
Jonathan released his grip. Immediately he heard a gasp, but didn’t look back. He fought through the smoke to Rebekah’s side. Rory held her in his arms, but even through the haze he saw a dark red mark spreading rapidly through her gown. Blood flowed freely out of her.
He pounded Rory’s back. There was no time for words. Scorching flames encompassed the house. The smoke! Following quickly, he broke through the opening behind him.
Gagging for breath, he fell down next to Rebekah on the lawn. In reflex, she gasped for breath. With another effort, Rory helped move her out of the burning house’s heat. Laying her down by an old oak, Jonathan took measure of her wound. Choking weakly, she lay unconscious.
Jonathan took no note of Rory. His focus lay only on Rebekah. He tore off her skirt tail. The knife wound on her upper leg oozed blood without restraint, ebbing her life force out. Immediately his hands clamped off the flow, but the blood still ran. He looked frantically around.
“Tear off in long sheets!”
His trembling hands accepted the cloths. Wrapping as best and as swiftly as he could, he bandaged the wound. Once more, his hand pressured the wound. Don’t do this, Rebekah! Come back to me! Don’t bleed out!
Pale and listless, she lay. In the distance, Jonathan could hear horses rapidly approaching, but he remained fixed in his position. Watching her labored breathing, he sat there afraid to move, his hand forcing the blood to stay in her body.
Chapter Thirteen
Jonathan stood along the bank’s edge, helping push back the schooner. Two days had passed, two long sleepless nights. Rebekah lay helpless in a bed at Fairmont. Her bleeding stopped but she had yet to regain consciousness…Esther maintained vigilance by her bedside. Jonathan prayed desperately she didn’t develop a fever. She was so weak, she wouldn’t survive.
Esther begged Jonathan not to leave, but there was nothing
else he could do within those walls. A Doctor Taylor had been called if an emergency arose. Jonathan had a task to complete. First, though, he sat back and watched the schooner depart to Virginia. The discussion had been brief; a new wet nurse found. Jasper would accompany Daniel on his venture along with… one of Rory’s men—Tobias— as well as Rebekah’s maid, Sully. Rebekah would have wanted her to go, Jonathan reasoned.
“I have given Tobias a letter from me, if heaven forbid, the ship is stopped by a British vessel. It should pass unharmed for now,” Rory stated plainly. Comprehension slowly ebbed through Jonathan. This man—thief, rogue—loved his daughter. His one thought was her safety and as long as she resided in South Carolina she would not be, not being his daughter.
Glancing over his shoulder, he stared at the intimidating man, the devil on horseback. An unspoken pact had been formed that night as the fire burned. Soon it would be daylight and they had a lot of ground to make up. Tomorrow he would worry about how Rebekah would react to the knowledge her daughter was gone. Tomorrow he would deal with the aftereffects. Tomorrow…tonight they rode.
After a brief stop at Cutler’s residence, Jonathan waited in the shadows of King Street, across the street from the house Reed resided. Adam Reed’s house had been a flurry of activity. He had been entertaining, celebrating perchance. Jonathan watched the house until the last guest left.
The hour was late when Jonathan eased out to the street and walked briskly to the door. He straightened his waistcoat as the large door opened.
“Ah sorry, sir. Family down for the night…”
Jonathan’s hand stayed the door open. Ignoring the doorman, he walked inside. “Tell Mr. Reed it’s Dr. Jonathan Corbett. He will see me.” His voice echoed in the foyer, stern and grave. His eyes locked with the man.
Nervously, the blackie nodded and withdrew back after closing the door tightly. “Ah see. Ah see,” he repeated before disappearing down the foyer.
Only moments later, the butler reappeared. “Yes, sir, Doctor Corbett. Master Reed will see you now.”
His steps slowed, heavy pounding the marble tile beneath his boots. A houseboy hurriedly opened the door to the study, giving way to Jonathan’s entrance. Hastily Jonathan shut the door behind him.
A large fire blazed in the fireplace. The light illuminated in such a fashion that Reed seemed an apparition in his chair. The chair swiveled around.
“Ah, Dr. Corbett, I wish you had arrived earlier. We had a splendid party tonight. Shame!” Reed sat the glass he had in his hand down. “Please, make yourself at home. Pour yourself a glass of…”
“It’s not a social call.” The heat of his stare imparted the weight of seriousness to his call.
Immediately, Reed leaned back in the chair. The white-haired man sat as if prepared for news…news he already suspected. “As word of the victory at Beaufort has spread quickly, I take it has nothing to do with the war. Should I suppose my family in Beaufort? Do not tell me it’s bad news!”
Jonathan said nothing, but meandered to the side window. Pulling back the large velvet curtain, he lowered his voice as eyes turned to him curiously. “You don’t mind. Do you, Mr. Reed? I find I need fresh air.”
“Well, Dr. Corbett…it’s cool outside. We usually don’t…”
Jonathan quietly turned and walked back to a seat in front of Rebekah’s uncle . His eyes fastened on the man sitting in the realm of luxury in his leather-bound chair, the hand carved mahogany desk, the fine port and wine in the decanters, the imported French wallpaper, his waistcoat made only of the finest material. No, the man had denied himself nothing.
Sitting himself firmly in his seat, Jonathan smiled with raised eyebrows. “Are you cold, Mr. Reed? I find myself quite comfortable. I wasn’t the other night, quite the predicament I’m afraid.”
“You have me at quite a disadvantage, Dr. Corbett. Is there a purpose to your visit? Are you here to convey some news? Or—” Reed’s speech was precise and sharp, condemnation ringing in his tone—“has my niece sunk her teeth into another prize? I warn you, sir, she is not to be trusted…”
“Trusted?” Jonathan’s voice was mockingly incredulous. “Then I must warn you, sir. I know.”
Jonathan watched carefully as Reed touched the top right side drawer. Jonathan carefully opened his waistcoat wide enough for Reed to see the blunt end of his pistol. “I would think carefully before you make that move, Mr. Reed. I assure you I will be brief and then depart.”
Reed glanced up at the stern face and pursed his lips. Jonathan smiled, though there was little humor in it.
“Pray tell me, then, what you wish to say and get the hell out of my home.”
“Manners! Manners! You do have a reputation to protect, at least at the moment.”
“Why, you heathen devil!”
“No, sir!” Jonathan sprang up suddenly, banging the desk with his fist. “It is you who is the spawn of the devil himself! I had a grandfather myself who hated the ground my father walked on and enacted his revenge on him, hard and cruel. Brutal he may have been and may his soul rot in Hell, but he was no hypocrite! You, sir, are the worst of the worst!”
“How dare you! Out! Out I say!” Reed flung back his chair and stood. His hand pointed toward the door. “You have been seduced. It is plain. Jezebel!”
For a moment Jonathan thought he would lunge over the desk. Only sheer willpower held him back. He pointedly refrained himself. He opened his waistcoat once more, but instead of reaching for his pistol, he withdrew a journal: an old, roughly handled journal.
“Is this what you have been searching for, Reed?”
The old man’s eyes fixated on the book. He paused. “You have it?” he uttered in a half whisper. “Give it to me! I will give you whatever you want.”
“What I want you tried to destroy only a few nights ago.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Give it to me!” He reached over and grabbed it. Scanning it quickly, a look of immense relief flooded him. Instantly, he slung it in the vast fire behind him. A huge smile emerged on his face as he watched the book burn.
“Do you think the words on those pages hidden now?”
“Lies. All lies. To defame my name for so long. Now I no longer have to worry.” He looked back at Jonathan. “Unfortunately, now you have nothing to offer me.”
“I want nothing from you, sir. I came only to tell you this. The book destroyed doesn’t change the past. Your grandmother being a slave means to you you’re black,” Jonathan said simply and plainly. “Your grandfather must have been a lot like you, enjoying playing God. Taking a lover who had no chance of rebuffing his advances and then taking the child from her arms to ensure his lineage to survive. Did he force your grandmother to fake a pregnancy or did your father suddenly appear? However, your grandfather’s wife didn’t take kindly to it—to have kept such a detailed record of the event and hid it from your grandfather. No, I imagine your grandfather would have been a great deal like you. No conscience when his will was questioned. And you. I’m certain you can justify every move you have made.”
“You have no proof. If you dare…”
“There is no need to threaten me, Reed. I would never do anything to harm Rebekah. She lives, you realize. The niece, or could we say stepdaughter, you hated only because of her birth. Oh, what you must have felt when you discovered she had unearthed the secret journal! You knew she had when Layton appeared on your doorstep.
“Desperate, no doubt, she must have shown it to Ian. Probably not understanding its importance, but Layton discovered it when he rummaged through Ian’s papers. No, what bothers me most is that it wasn’t Layton that devised the deadly scheme to do away with Rebekah. It was you.”
“Again, Dr. Corbett—speculation at best. Layton was the one. He paid blackmail. He was the one wanting to benefit from his brother’s death. Not I!”
“No, but he came to you only to blackmail you to get her out of town. What? Did he want you to send her back to Philadelphia or
have her marry some poor man in the backwoods? Ian didn’t have much longer. He shouldn’t have lived as long as he had. Why would he need her dead? He didn’t. You did. She knew about your secret. She, the bastard child of your wife. The shame! With the shame, a swelling hatred for the daughter of your wife and lover until there was only one answer for you. She had to die.”
“You can speculate all you want now, Doctor. There is no proof, not even if Rebekah tries…”
“But you would never allow her the opportunity. Making a deal with the devil himself. In all, there might have been some measure to reconcile if you hadn’t hired Georgie Boy. Yes, Reed, I know of him and his atrocious acts. With your judgment, you wanted Rebekah to suffer. Not only Rebekah…you ordered the babe to die! Why? How could you?”
“The Lord, Doctor! The good Lord! My wife’s wanton behavior caused shame. I had to. To right the wrong and make all as it should be. To right the wrong…” Reed shouted his fury. The air crackled, his rage rambling incoherent thoughts. “God is a vengeful Lord! He demanded she die…the tainted child had to pay the price of unholy union! They had to die. Sacrifices had to be made to atone!”
Suddenly, the door burst open. Two strong well-armed men entered. “Is there a problem, Mr. Reed?”
The fire ebbed from Reed’s eyes. Gesturing to the two to help Jonathan on his way out of his house, he ordered, “Dr. Corbett is to leave. He is not allowed back within my doors.”
“Don’t worry, Reed. I’ll never make the attempt again.” Jonathan tilted his head to the side contemptuously and laughed. He shrugged off the hands that reached for his arm. “I’m going.”
The young houseboy held the door for his departure. The two goons took pleasure in grabbing his arms as he walked through the doorway and throwing him down the steps. Laughing heartily, the door slammed in Jonathan’s face. Picking himself off the ground, he wiped the dirt off his legs. No harm done. He couldn’t say that about Reed.
