A Whisper Of Destiny

by Monica Barrie

  “My father?” she echoed in astonishment, finally taking the glass from his hand. Chatham nodded in response. Kira looked from the mixture in the glass to Robert Chatham’s honest face. Knowing that whatever decision she made would affect the rest of her life, she tried to look past the flesh and bones of the man before her to peer into his soul. After another moment, she lifted the glass to her lips. Her eyes stayed locked to his as she drank the mixture.

  “Good,” said Chatham with a sigh of relief. “That was the right thing to do.” Chatham replaced the vial of laudanum in his medical bag and closed it with a snap. Then he turned back to her, deliberating how much more he should reveal.

  “There’s something else I must tell you,” he said at last. “Your uncle is sending you to England.” A sharp cry escaped Kira’s lips. Her head moved back and forth in denial.

  “That’s why he wants you sedated. Do not fight him. I promise, we will find a way to help you. Sean is on his way back to Charleston now.”

  “When?” she asked in a quavering voice, scarcely daring to hope.

  “He said tomorrow afternoon. Kira, do not despair,” admonished Chatham as he stepped closer to her. “I know Sean Rouger well. He is bound to you, even though he himself does not know that yet. He will move the earth for you—an ocean will be no barrier to him.”

  Kira turned away from him. She marshaled her thoughts and tried to gain control over her emotions. “You seem to know a great deal of my affairs and have many answers. You evoke my father’s name and then bring up a man I despise,” she said bitterly. As she spoke, she felt the fuzziness begin to overcome her. Chatham did not reply, but took her hands into his. Kira looked once more into the intense eyes and open face of the doctor, feeling the warmth and strength that flowed from his hands into hers, and she tried to accept the words he had spoken. Although her mind still doubted, she knew that she must trust someone…

  “My father?” she asked in a husky voice. The medication was now beginning to fog her brain. Chatham helped Kira to the bed and then assisted Ruth in settling Kira comfortably in it.

  “Your father was one of us. He helped us, but we could not help him before he died,” admitted Chatham. He was not sure that Kira heard him, for her eyes were closed and her breathing was now even and regular.

  “Watch over her,” he directed Ruth. “The effects will last only a few hours. Do not let her out of bed. Cornwall must not learn of this deception.”

  “Yes, suh.”

  “Abraham trusts me,” Chatham added quietly. “You should, too.” Ruth looked at him and nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. Chatham smiled warmly at her.

  “I’ve been so afraid for him. Even after Kira told me that you owned him. I’m glad he’s safe,” she said quietly.

  “You’ll join him soon, have no fear. In the meantime, watch over Kira. Do not let her do anything foolish.”

  “Doctor?” asked Ruth in a low voice. Then she paused.

  “What is it?”

  “About what Kira said. About Mr. Rouger.”

  “Yes?” he asked curiously.

  “I think they are a lot alike. What you said about him, his not knowing his feelings for Kira—she, too, loves him. She just won’t admit it.”

  “I don’t think I can handle two people like Sean Rouger!” Chatham laughed softly. “I must go downstairs now. Take care of her.”

  “Doctor?” asked Ruth again, and waited until Chatham turned back to her. “He’s really all right?”

  “Yes, Abraham is fine,” replied Chatham, as he left the room.

  In the hallway, Chatham stopped for a deep breath. Now he must ready himself for dinner, the most difficult part of this bizarre night. With all that he now knew, he would need all his strength and intelligence to face James Cornwall.

  “Thanks,” he muttered sarcastically to the figure of Sean Rouger he imagined smiling at him.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Report to Commodore Finch and then await my orders,” commanded Sean as he started down the sloop’s ramp to the dock. Dressed in ordinary seaman’s clothing, a dark shirt and loose britches, he covered his black and silver hair with a stocking cap. The voyage had been smooth and fast, and the time he’d spent aboard well used.

  It was nearing midnight and Sean was impatient to get to Chatham’s house. There were no hacks out, so Sean walked. As he followed the familiar streets, he braced himself for his confrontation with Chatham. He knew Robert would be furious with him when he told him he was using Francine again. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that Chatham was in love with her, which was the primary reason Chatham feared for her well-being. After all, Robert had seen Francine through several missions in similar disguises—as the wife of one man, the mistress of another. If he truly cared for her, naturally he would be eager for her to end her career as a spy…but would he be able to let go of her past?

  Sean walked briskly onward and turned the corner onto the doctor’s street. The white Georgian house stood a third of the way down the street, sandwiched between two others. Its narrow front recently whitewashed, the brass trim on the gateposts gleaming in the moonlight. Sean relaxed now, knowing that safety was only a few feet away. He opened the gate and proceeded up the stone steps to the large front door. Flickering candlelight came through the transom over the door. Sean gripped the brass door knocker and hit the plate three times.

  The door opened slowly and a black face peered out into the darkness at him. The eyes of the slave grew steely when he started to enter. Before Sean could get completely into the foyer, he was pulled to the floor and landed sharply on his shoulder. With a muffled cry, he tried to get up, but felt a piece of iron held tightly against his head. The man spoke softly, between gritted teeth.

  “If’n you moves, I gonna split you head open,” said the black slave. Then in a loud voice he began to shout for help. He let up the pressure on the iron bar and, fearing the worst had happened to Chatham in his absence, Sean moved swiftly. He rolled from under the bar and jumped up, spinning around fast, his leg extending as he rammed the toe of his boot into the black man’s stomach. The man doubled over, but quickly brought himself upright. He lifted the iron bar over his head, but before he could bring it crashing down a voice rang out.

  “No!” came the shout, as a blurry black figure flew from the hallway to land on Abraham’s back, knocking him to the floor. The other slave grabbed the iron bar from his hands.

  “You crazy? Dat man be de docta’s friend!” shouted Jeremy to Abraham, who was still struggling to get Jeremy off him. Suddenly, another voice broke into the fray.

  “Can’t I have any peace tonight?” inquired Robert Chatham, as he looked over the strange tableau. “What are you two trying to do?”

  “Dis man he be da one dat try and steal Miz Kira,” said Abraham, who had recognized Sean instantly from the hat he had worn the day he spirited Kira Cornwall away from her father’s offices.

  “Abraham, he’s one of us,” Chatham informed the slave, as he smiled at the men. “And Sean, kindly apologize to Abraham for knocking him off the carriage.”

  Chatham then turned his attention to Jeremy. “Get rid of that thing.” He pointed to the iron bar in Jeremy’s hand, and the slave walked away, shaking his head. As Jeremy passed around a corner, Chatham said to Abraham in a low voice, “Would you please speak English to Mr. Rouger?”

  Sean laughed, realizing who Abraham was. He smiled and extended his hand. Abraham looked at it, hesitating.

  “It was only a gentle shove,” said Sean with another friendly smile, “and you already know that Mistress Cornwall was unharmed.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the black slave, but the look of uncertainty was still on his face. “It’s not the shove, it’s just that I never shook a white man’s hand before,” he admitted.

  Sean walked closer to the man and took the darker hand into his own. “It won’t rub off.”

  “Too bad. Then we’d be in a better position. We could make the sl
aves white and their owners black, and then sit back and see how long slavery would last.” Chatham shook his head sadly.

  “Abraham, would you wake Bella and have her prepare the guest room for Sean?” When the slave left to do Chatham’s bidding, the doctor pulled Sean into his study and the two men quickly brought each other up to date on recent events.

  Chatham listened intently to every word. He was especially interested in what had happened in Washington. Then, when Sean paused for breath, he asked one question. “Francine is well?” When he said her name, his light blue eyes locked into Sean’s and Sean knew he could not lie to his friend.

  “She is fine. She’s completely recovered.”

  “And?”

  “And she’s back at work.” These last words were said in a lower tone.

  “You said you’d not use her again!” accused Chatham, angrily slamming his open palm on the end table. “Not after what happened to her. Do you want her dead?”

  “No, Robert, of course not.” Sean sighed and began to pace the room. “To begin with, I was fighting for all of us, so that what we had accomplished up to now would not be wasted. When I spoke with Francine and explained the situation, I told her to make up her own mind. I did not order her to go. Second, the information that the president wants is vital. It could mean the difference between a skirmish and a full-scale war.” Sean stopped in mid-stride as he looked at his friend. The anger that had been so evident on Robert Chatham’s face had subsided to a degree and it was obvious the doctor was trying to understand.

  “Robert, will this be your last assignment?” Sean asked intuitively.

  “I think it will be,” said Chatham in a low voice. “I think the time has come for me to become a real doctor again.”

  “As soon as this is over,” Sean nodded, “you’ll be able to set up a practice.” He looked intently at Robert; suddenly, he spoke his mind. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

  Denial formed on Chatham’s lips. The doctor shook it shook it away and nodded.

  “Why haven’t you told her?”

  “We both know her feelings on that,” stated Chatham.

  “Yes, we both know her feelings, but dammit man, if it was me, I would go after her, and I would not accept no for her answer. Try it!”

  “I know you would,” Chatham concurred, “but as I’ve told you many times before, I am not you.”

  “When this is over, will you tell her?”

  “Yes, but I still fear she won’t have me.”

  “You may be surprised.” Sean smiled, determined to do his best to find out how his sister felt. “Anyway, what have you been up to since I’ve been gone?”

  Accepting the change in subject gratefully, Chatham launched into a detailed account of his every movement since Sean had left, including all the information obtained from Abraham. At this point, Sean interrupted. “Then Kira’s maid is in even greater danger, if Cornwall finds out about her literacy. But perhaps that may be of help to us. If she can get into his private papers, she would be able to tell us much and she would not be suspect.”

  “Before you jump to any conclusions, there’s more. Cornwall wants me to go to work for him.”

  Sean laughed delightedly. “Wonderful!”

  “Perhaps, but I must tell you about Kira.”

  Sean’s eyes riveted Robert. “What?”

  “She overheard certain things—accused Cornwall of killing her father, then attacked him. He drugged her with morphine to keep her quiet and now plans to send her to relatives in England, where she will not interfere with his plans.”

  “When does her ship sail?” asked Sean, his voice filled with deep concern.

  “Supposedly today, if the winds prevail.”

  “Do you know the name of the ship?” Sean asked.

  “A quick inquiry and we’ll know. It has to be one of Cornwall’s ships, and there are not many in the harbor bound for England.”

  “Have Jeremy saddle a horse. I must get to the Commodore.” Sean decided that something must be done to delay Kira’s departure.

  After Chatham had summoned Jeremy and given him the instructions, Sean explained his plan. Commodore Finch would be able to detain the ship under one pretext or another until the following day. Sean desperately needed the time to see the man in Charleston of whom Uria Levy had spoken. He would deliver a message to Francine around the time that Kira would arrive in England. Finally, he was determined to see Kira before she left.

  “There’s no need to see her. She can be of no further use to us.” While Chatham talked, he studied his friend’s face, readying himself for disappointment, but hoping against it.

  Sean smiled broadly at Chatham. “I would be a fine specimen if, after lecturing you about my sister, I turned a deaf ear on my own feelings.” Sean lit another cigar as he thought about his admission.

  “Your feelings for her are obvious to anyone who knows you,” Chatham confided to his friend. “By the way, if you are successful in delaying the ship, Cornwall will have to get more medication for her. We’ll be able to get word to her to expect you.”

  “No!” admonished Sean. “We can’t take the chance of Cornwall learning of your deception.”

  “All right,” conceded Chatham, “but I’ll make the laudanum weak and instruct Cornwall that if he gives her more than I tell him to, she’ll not be able to walk to the ship. I doubt he’d like the gossip that would spark around town if she were carried.”

  “Fine, but do nothing else! I spent enough time at New Windsor, before the troubles, to find my way about.” Sean went to the door. “Make sure Abraham knows that I’m coming back—I don’t fancy having him trying to batter me again.”

  Chatham laughed at Sean’s parting remark. Then he sat back in his chair and thought about Sean’s words. Yes, his mind was made up. He would speak with Francine.

  <><><>

  Sean reined in his horse in front of the building. Its appearance was undistinguished, made to be seen only by those who sought it. Even the neighborhood was not well frequented. Sean went to the small doorway at the side of the building. Activity was beginning on the street as the merchants and vendors prepared for the day. While he waited for his knock to be answered, he thought about his coming night’s adventure. He had already settled things with Commodore Finch to his satisfaction, and the Commodore had a guarantee that none of Cornwall’s ships bound for England would leave that day. The Commodore also reiterated Commodore Levy’s orders. No matter what Sean might think personally, he assured him, these actions would be in the best interest of the country.

  A low, accented voice called out in response to Sean’s knock. He replied with the words that he had been given and the door opened. He found himself facing a man of about fifty, with gray, curly hair. On his head was the skullcap that told of both his religion and of his post.

  Sean told the man what was necessary. The old man nodded and asked if there was anything more, to which Sean replied that everything else seemed to be in order.

  “Will you return here?” asked the man.

  “Eventually, but if you need to get something to me, you must contact Dr. Robert Chatham.”

  “Chatham!” the man exclaimed. “We didn’t know he was one of your people.”

  “He is also a fine doctor,” replied Sean.

  “We know that, too. There are many who would not trust a Jew.” The man paused and eyed Sean speculatively. “Our own doctor died last year, and Dr. Chatham recently treated one of my people. If for no other reason, we would help you.”

  “Thank you,” said Sean, liking the honesty of this man. Sean stayed a few minutes longer to talk and then, before the first light of day, he returned to his waiting bed at Robert Chatham’s house.

  CHAPTER 17

  Kira sat up quickly and a wave of dizziness swept through her head. She placed her hands against her temples to steady herself. After a few seconds, the spinning sensation passed. This was the second time today that she’d woken fro
m the drugged sleep into which her uncle had forced her.

  She looked around the room and saw two trunks filled with her clothing, ready to be closed. The dressing table top was now cleared of her personal items—the miniatures of her mother and father and the small carousel clock that she’d owned since she was ten.

  Kira listened for any sounds in the outer room and the hallway before she got out of bed. The silence comforted her, and she walked to the dressing room and the basin of water. The cool water was like a balm on her hands and forehead. Without drying her face, she looked into the mirror above the washstand.

  She was terribly haggard, with dark half-moon circles beneath her eyes. The skin on the right side of her face was wrinkled from sleep, almost hiding the small crescent-shaped scar she’d had since childhood. She reached for a towel, giving a mental thanks to Robert Chatham for the laudanum and the instruction to her uncle for each dosage. Chatham had proven himself a friend.

  Kira picked up the brush Ruth had left out for her. She sat and pulled the wood-handled brush forcefully through the tangled red tresses. She twisted her hair back and secured it with a large tortoise shell comb. Then she went to her wardrobe and put on the loose-fitting puffy-sleeved blue day-dress that Ruth had left out for her. Suitably attired, she wandered back into her bedroom just as Ruth entered with a tray of food. Kira looked at it and a faint nausea overcame her.

  “No, I can’t eat.”

  “You have to, Kira. The cook made it especially for you.”

  “I have no appetite. And I do not wish to get sick on shipboard,” said Kira in a flat tone.

  “You’re not going today. I heard it in the kitchen. The ships have been detained.”

  Kira felt her hopes soar, wondering if perhaps Dr. Chatham might be responsible for this. “What did my uncle say?”

  “The cook said he flew into another rage and then ran from the house to find out what the problem was. He’ll be back soon, though.”