“It can only help the country,” commented Sean.
“What else did you come here for?” asked his father abruptly, as his wise old eyes looked deeply into his son’s.
“Else?” Sean asked innocently.
“Enough!” declared his father. “You did not come from Washington only to tell me of your European exploits!”
“Perhaps one day you’ll allow me to do things in my own time.” Sean smiled to hide his annoyance. As usual, his father had second-guessed him, and this never failed to irritate him. Ever since he was a child, he had tried to do things on his own because his father was not around to push him along. However, even when he succeeded, his father always seemed to know what he’d done or was going to do—this robbed Sean of his delight in surprising him.
“Perhaps,” agreed his father, with a serious nod of his head. “If I live that long.”
Sean took a deep breath. “I would like you to dine with me tonight,” he said. “Francine and I are staying at Mother’s house.” His father replaced his spectacles slowly and peered over them at his son.
“All right, dammit!” exclaimed Sean, as he left the daybed and began pacing around the room. He stopped by the tall, narrow window and looked into the garden. After a moment, he dropped his hand from the wooden shutter. “There is a lady I would like you to meet. I plan on marrying her.” He turned back to face his father.
“Indeed? And who is the lady?”
“I should have thought you might know,” Sean answered with a smile. “After all, you were the one who taught me the basics of gathering information from everywhere, no matter how trivial.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t a clue. I haven’t had a reliable word on you since you sailed for France.”
“Will you come for dinner?”
“Yes,” replied his father, “I’ll be there.”
<><><>
When Kira had finished refreshing herself, Ruth escorted her to the gardens where Francine and Sean were waiting. She wore one of the new gowns that she and Francine had picked out in Annapolis, one that she knew was particularly becoming. Deep crimson color, it flowed softly from her shoulders to her just beneath her breasts, where the material drew together and was held in place by a large cameo before falling in wide folds to her ankles. Her hair was swept up on her head, with a profusion of curls framing her forehead and cheeks.
Francine was dressed in a similarly styled gown of deep purple. Her raven hair pulled to one side, a white silken ribbon woven through it. When Sean seated Kira, he poured three of the four glasses set before him on a small table from a decanter of yellow-gold liquor and handed one to each of the women. Then he sat again and looked at both of them.
“To the future,” he said raising his glass in toast, “and to the two most beautiful women I know.” Kira and Francine lifted their glasses and sipped, smiling behind their glasses.
“To happiness for you both,” Francine murmured softly, a faraway look on her face.
“And to you,” said Kira warmly. Then suddenly she saw Francine’s eyes fill with tears. “Francine?” she asked gently.
“It’s nothing. I always feel emotional when I see two people as happy as you are.”
“She doesn’t believe in happiness for herself,” cut in Sean bluntly. “She’s afraid of it!”
“That’s not true,” Francine retorted angrily. Kira looked questioningly at them.
“There is someone deeply in love with her,” explained Sean. “But she refuses to either believe it or accept it.”
“I can’t!” declared Francine in a tight voice. “I’ve told you often enough why.”
“He loves you. He wants you.”
“He wants children, too!” she countered fiercely.
“Wait,” Kira cut in, “what are you two going on about?”
“Nothing,” cried Francine, turning to run from the wooden veranda into the gardens. Sean looked helplessly at Kira.
“Please, help her.” Kira nodded slowly and went after Francine. She caught up to her near the large stand of trees bordering the drive.
“Francine?” she called tentatively.
Francine turned to Kira, and the younger woman saw the tears spilling from her eyes, her lovely face contorted with grief. Kira opened her arms and pulled Francine to her. When Francine was calm again, she told Kira everything—about her marriage, her miscarriage and her feelings for Robert Chatham. Kira listened for a long while before she spoke, and when she did it was to offer sympathy, not advice.
“It is sad that you cannot bear children. But does that give you the right to deny yourself happiness? And to deny happiness to another? Because you can’t have a family, does that mean he would love you less? Have you at least given him the chance to tell you what he wants and needs of you? Perhaps,” she added, “you should try.”
“Kira, please. No man would have me, or if he would, what treatment could I expect? I’m a whore!” she hissed angrily. “I’ve sold my body. Not for money, it’s true, but it’s the same as if I had.”
“Your body was your weapon,” Kira lashed back. “You used it when you had to. What man could have possibly done what you did? You saved lives! Sean told me that information you’ve obtained has aided our country more than once. You used what you had, not wantonly, but for a cause you believe in… That,” said Kira, her voice softening as she gazed compassionately at Francine, “has nothing in common with being a whore.”
“But—” began Francine.
“No,” interrupted Kira fiercely. “You use your mind and your ability as a woman, which is the one thing no man can do! Why should you feel that because you are a woman you are lessened by your acts?” Kira paused, debating the wisdom of continuing, but could not stop herself.
“If that is the case, Francine, then you should never leave this house. You should hide your shame behind shuttered doors and windows.” Had she stepped too far past the boundaries of their newly formed friendship? She stared at Francine and waited. Francine nodded silently and wiped her eyes, the barest hint of a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.
“Sean’s met his match,” she said simply, pulling Kira close and kissing her cheek. “Thank you.”
Kira noticed, over Francine’s shoulder, that someone had joined Sean on the veranda. She stiffened slightly as she recognized him.
“Oh...” she whispered. Francine looked back to see who it was.
“You know him?” she asked. Kira nodded.
“When I was eleven or so he was in Charleston. A friend of my father’s—Henry Middleton, the Governor—brought him to Haven for a visit. My father always admired Thomas Jefferson.”
“Many people do. Monticello is only a few miles from here, you see,” she said with a mysterious smile on her face. “He visits us sometimes at strange hours. Come.” She took Kira’s hand, leading her back to the men. When they returned to the veranda, Sean and Thomas Jefferson broke off their conversation.
“Kira,” Sean said with a broad smile, “I’d like you to meet my father.”
<><><>
“Bastard!” she shouted, as she threw whatever was nearest. “Bastard! You could have told me!” Sean ducked the crystal perfume bottle, then watched it crash against the wall.
“Kira. Please,” he said ineffectually, holding his hands in front of him defensively, slowly approaching her. She looked around wildly, trying to find something else to throw, but all her ammunition was spent.
She backed away from him cautiously, trying to outmaneuver him. But the high bed was directly behind her and she fell backwards onto it. Sean fairly flew across the room to jump on her, pinning her arms against the mattress. She twisted her head from side to side to avoid his lips, but he trapped her mouth with his and pressed against her with a passionate kiss.
“Let me go!” she cried, trying to break his hold on her.
“Tell me what is wrong.”
“I can’t believe you don’t know! I can’t believe you would embarrass
me like that!”
“When?” he asked, puzzled.
“Oh!” she cried in exasperation. “You’re so innocent. You know everything about war, but you don’t know anything about women.” She found it impossible to remain angry with him for long. He looked at her and nodded. Then he kissed her tenderly, letting the kiss build with their mutual passion. He stood and looked down at her, watching the quick rise and fall of her breasts as she lay on the bed.
The invitation in his eyes was clear and she extended her hand so that he could pull her up. Their eyes devoured each other. Kira lifted his hand to her mouth, lovingly nuzzling the soft skin of the back of his hand. She smiled and then bit him.
“Damn!” he cursed, yanking his hand from hers.
“Don’t ever do that to me again!”
“All right,” he agreed. “I apologize. No more surprises.”
“Thank you,” she said sweetly, and this time she went to him. After a long kiss, they strolled onto the terrace outside of Kira’s room to enjoy the cool night air. They held each other, watching the stars as they began unfolding their splendor to the night.
“We leave the day after tomorrow,” said Sean softly.
“I’ll be ready,” she responded. “You have everything that you need to deal with my uncle?”
“The final papers returning Jonathan Cornwall Shipping to you, and indicating the full reversal of his will, which was shown to be fraudulent, will be waiting for us when we board the ship in Annapolis.” Sean turned to Kira, his face as serious as his voice. “Your uncle’s shipping company will be taken by the government. Most likely it will eventually be turned over to you.”
“No!” she declared. “Let it rot! I want nothing of Uncle James’. I wish I could rid myself of even the memory of him.”
“Lesson one,” Sean said to her, tilting her face up with his hand. “If you’re to be a successful businesswoman, you must utilize what’s there. James Cornwall’s company has many ships, and those ships and warehouses, combined with your father’s fleet, will make you a rich woman.”
“Lesson two,” she countered. “What my father had, he was happy with. What I had, I was happy with. What I have now, I am happy with. I have no need for more.”
“As you wish,” said Sean, with another of his secret smiles.
“Sean?” asked Kira, her voice suddenly a whisper in the night. “After we’re married, what will you do? Will you still work for the president? Will you travel again? Will you leave me alone, to spy again?”
He stared at her. He knew her question deserved a truthful response. “I don’t know, my love—I’ve thought about it many times, and I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“I don’t want my children to grow up fatherless,” she said in another husky whisper, as she put her arms around his back, pulling herself against his warmth. “It would not be fair to them.”
“I know. Come, love, it’s time for bed.”
The next day, Abraham came to Sean while he was working in his study to ask permission for Ruth and for himself to return with Sean and Kira to Charleston. At first Sean refused, but Abraham was both stubborn and persuasive. And Sean saw something behind Abraham’s eyes that told Sean of his need to go back. In the end, Sean agreed, and Abraham understood there would be no returning to Virginia.
By nightfall, Sean had completed everything he’d felt was necessary, and after dinner he ordered Francine and Kira to an early bed. They would be leaving before dawn, traveling straight through to the port.
The usual two-day journey was made in a single day and night, and early the morning after they’d left Virginia, they found themselves aboard the same sloop that had taken Sean and Francine to Annapolis for his appointment with the president. Lieutenant Lawrence gave the orders to get his ship under way and Sean took the women below deck. After he made sure that Abraham and Ruth were also settled, he joined the lieutenant on the foredeck.
“How is the Commodore?” he asked Lawrence.
“Chafing at the bit, sir,” said the lieutenant with a smile. “Doctor Chatham has been sending detailed reports about the operation of Cornwall’s new supply depot at the plantation, but he has refused to allow the old man to close it up.”
“Good,” nodded Sean. “When we get there, I want it to be a very big surprise to Cornwall.” He pictured the man in his mind’s eye and his eyes were vacant for a moment. He despised Cornwall more than any enemy he’d ever known.
“Chatham knows that if the Commodore moves too soon it will only give the British warning, and they have contingency plans set up. I want more than a single ship when we take Cornwall.”
The lieutenant nodded, then sent one of his men after Sean’s papers. The sailor returned with three envelopes. “These were delivered for you,” said Lawrence, as Sean opened and read them. The lieutenant was obviously impressed with the presidential seal that graced two of them.
Sean looked up at last, folding the letters and tucking them inside his jacket. “How long this time, Lieutenant?”
“We should dock by late morning if the winds stay up,” he said, squinting up at the almost full sails.
“It would be better if we arrive before daybreak,” Sean replied.
“I can’t control the wind,” shrugged Lawrence with a half-smile.
“I know that, man, but we have a problem. Our arrival in Charleston must go unnoticed. Miss Cornwall, as far as anyone there knows, is dead.” The lieutenant’s eyebrows raised in surprise at this news. “Hopefully, word has reached James Cornwall that his niece was killed in England. It would be a pity if someone should see her before she is resurrected in front of his eyes.”
“I understand, sir. I’ll do what I can,” nodded Lawrence, who shouted orders to the men. Sean felt the ship tremble under him as more yards of sail were unfurled. They were heading further out in the ocean to find stronger, more advantageous winds. As the ship began to move more swiftly, pushed by the full, billowing sails, Sean went below to the cabin that Francine and Kira shared.
CHAPTER 30
For all of Lieutenant Lawrence’s efforts, they had not arrived on time. A storm far off the coast of North Carolina pitted its strength against the small sloop and almost five hours had been lost in the battle with nature. It was late afternoon when they sighted Charleston harbor, and the lieutenant, acting under Sean’s orders, took the sloop directly to the Commodore’s base rather than into port. Its passengers were escorted, behind a cloak of marines, to the Commodore’s office. There they ate in privacy while awaiting the darkness of night.
When dark settled completely over Charleston, the commodore had the small group transported in two carriages. They went directly to Chatham’s house.
Jeremy and Bella were surprised to see them, but they found that Chatham was not at home and would not be returning until very late. He was attending another of James Cornwall’s parties.
Bella, after hugging both Francine and Ruth, prepared baths for Kira and Francine. Abraham joined Jeremy to help move the women’s trunks.
After their baths, Francine and Kira joined Sean in Chatham’s study. Both women looked greatly refreshed, as they sat drinking the hot, strong peppermint tea Bella had prepared. Sean was at Chatham’s desk when they came in, going over several sheets of paper that Chatham had secreted in a hiding place known only to him and Sean. When he finished, he turned to Kira with a smile.
“How does it feel to be home?”
“I’ll tell you when I’m at Haven.” Although Sean’s words were spoken lightly, Kira’s reply was serious.
“And you, Francine—what about Robert?”
“That will be between him and myself.” Her soft response and serious look were warning enough to probe no deeper.
“I have some things to attend to,” Sean said to the women as he stood up. “I’ll return within the hour.” He had been feeling uneasy ever since he had set foot in the house and was anxious to complete his unfinished business. He had to deliver
a letter and pay a debt.
Jeremy asked if he wanted a horse, but Sean declined, wanting the exercise and the release that walking would give him. When he reached the section of town he needed, he turned off King Street onto the smaller Hossall Street and walked another half block. Approaching a familiar entrance, he knocked gently on the door. After a short wait, the same man Sean had seen before leaving for France answered. When Sean identified himself, the door was opened and Sean was admitted.
“Shalom,” said Sean.
“Shalom,” replied the man. “I see you’ve learned much since your last visit,” he commented.
“I have. Has your son returned?”
“A month after you left. He found Washington much to his liking. He accepted a commission in the Navy.” Sean nodded at the older man’s words as he removed the letter from inside his jacket. The older man took it, quickly slitting the sealed envelope. He read the letter carefully before he returned his gaze to Sean.
“He is such a great man. Why do they belittle him?”
“Lafitte would have it that way. Most great men are belittled by those who have not achieved as much. Is this agreement he made to your satisfaction?” asked Sean.
The man continued to stare into Sean’s eyes.
“Even saving the life of one person would give me satisfaction. That we can now save untold numbers is a fact that I greet with joy!” The man averted his face, so filled with emotion that he could not continue. But presently he turned back to Sean. “Thank you.”
“I must thank you, in return, for your help in my own personal problem. Is there something else I can do for you?” asked Sean.
“Yes!” he exclaimed as he clapped his hands together. “Come inside. Have tea and meet my son and my wife!”
“It would be a pleasure.”
<><><>
“Anything else, Miz Francine?” asked Bella, before closing the study’s door.
“No thank you, Bella—I’d like to be alone now.” Francine knew Bella understood what she was saying. Before the black woman closed the door, she stopped once more.
A Whisper Of Destiny Page 27
