When the party arrived at the plantation in the late morning, Frederick ordered a carriage to take her home. As a servant drove them toward town, she and Papa had little energy to talk, but she did find comfort in learning that Frederick had apprehended the man who started the fire.
Once home, they placed themselves in the capable hands of Mr. Patch and Inez. Rachel fell into bed and blissful rest.
She awakened to find the sun still up, only to realize by its morning position that Wednesday had arrived. She’d slept more than sixteen hours. Quickly washed and dressed, she hastened downstairs to the store. There Papa waited on customers as if he had never been away.
“There ye are at last.” His light tone bespoke good humor. “Run along to the kitchen house, girl. I know ye’re hungry.”
“Have you eaten, Papa?”
“Enough for a horse, girl.” His booming voice filled the store, to the amusement of the tanner’s wife and another woman examining bolts of dress fabric. “Now, get ye along.”
As she hurried to obey, Rachel shook her head, enjoying Papa’s high spirits. Perhaps he and Mrs. Winthrop had come to an agreement and would soon announce their betrothal, too.
Crossing the backyard, she inhaled the aroma of cooking chicken, and her empty stomach cried out for satisfaction. Surprised to find the kitchen house door closed in such hot weather, she opened it cautiously in case Inez was bathing Sadie. Inside she found her servant at work and a young man seated beside Sadie on her bed. Dressed in rough brown breeches and a well-worn calico shirt, he had not shaved in some time, and his auburn hair needed to be combed.
Fear shot through Rachel. “Who are you?”
He jumped up, terror streaking across his face. With a quick glance about the room, he started toward the window.
“Rob, no,” cried Sadie. “Don’t leave us.” She swung her legs to the floor and struggled to stand but fell back, wincing and crying out in pain.
“Sadie girl.” The man hurried back to pull her into his arms. “Don’t harm yourself, love.” He stared at Rachel, fear widening his eyes. “I’m Sadie’s husband, come to care for her.”
Hoping to set Rob at ease, Rachel lifted little Robby. The child put his tiny arms around her neck and giggled as she kissed his forehead and nuzzled into his neck.
“You have nothing to fear. I’m merely surprised to find you here.” She eyed the pot bubbling over the hearth fire, and her mouth watered at the aroma of the savory chicken. “Inez, I’m famished.” Releasing the child to his play, she sat at the table. Although this could not be considered proper manners, she must eat something soon or risk becoming faint.
“Sí, señorita.” Inez produced a crockery bowl and served meat, rice and bread.
“Does Mr. Folger know you are here, Rob?” Rachel spooned in a mouthful, endeavoring to appear detached. If he did know, surely he would have told her before she came out.
Rob and Sadie exchanged a look.
“No, ma’am,” Sadie answered for her husband.
“Hmm.” Rachel ate slowly. When Robby leaned against her, she fed him a bite of bread.
“Here, boy, don’t annoy the lady.” Rob pulled his son away.
“He is no annoyance.” Rachel noticed that the others continued to watch her. “Have you eaten?”
“Sí, señorita, I feed them.” Inez poured coffee for Rachel. “I know you are generous and would not mind.”
“Very good.” Rachel sent up a prayer for wisdom. Clearly Rob had deserted his soldiering duties, which would make him a criminal to some people. But unlike the horrid soldier who had set the fire, this one deserted for an honorable purpose—to care for his family.
After several minutes, Sadie and Rob seemed to relax. They whispered endearments to one another and talked about what they had done while separated. Rachel tried not to listen, but the room was too small to keep their conversation private.
“The boy’s strong.” Rob eyed his son with pride. “You’ve done a good job, love.”
Sadie leaned against him. “He needs his pa, he does.” Tears covered her cheeks. “Ya did good to come.”
Rob kissed her forehead, but his eyes held concern, while Sadie’s eyes radiated her love.
Their mutual tenderness moved Rachel. This was the depth of love she felt for Frederick. What would she do if they were forced apart? How could she bear it?
For Sadie’s and Robby’s sakes, Rachel must hide Rob, must help him avoid detection by the British soldiers who patrolled the settlement randomly day and night.
She finished her meal and stood. “Thank you, Inez.”
“De nada, señorita.” Inez came to clear the table, while Rachel walked toward the door.
“Beggin’ your pardon, miss.” Rob approached her. “Could you find it in your heart not to report that I’ve come here?”
Her heart welled up with sympathy. “Of course I’ll not report you. But you cannot hide here for long. Do you have a plan?”
Rob glanced back at Sadie, and she nodded.
“We’re going to Cuba.”
Rachel stared at him. “Cuba? But why? And with Sadie’s injuries, how will you travel?”
“Travel where?” Frederick appeared in the open doorway, his eyebrows arched with curiosity. He looked at Rob, then Rachel, then Sadie, and back to Rachel. “My dear, your father told me you were here. Who is this?” He stared at Rob, and his tone, while not forceful, rang with authority. His magistrate voice.
Dizzy with shock and a remnant of exhaustion, Rachel swayed, almost losing her balance. “Frederick.”
Rob’s face grew pale around the edges of his sunburn, and he began to tremble.
Rachel felt herself blanching, too. How tempting to lie about this situation, especially since she had promised not to betray Rob. But conviction blocked that wicked thought.
“This is Sadie’s husband.”
Frederick straightened and frowned. He stared hard at Rob. “Are you not in His Majesty’s service?”
Rob gulped. “Yes, sir. That is, I was.”
Sadie began to sob, and Rob hurried to her side. “It’s all right, Sadie girl. I knew what I would face. But I had to come. I had to know about you and the boy.”
A painful knot filled her chest, and Rachel could not contain her own tears. “Frederick, please, can we not let them go?” She grasped his arm and gazed up at him. “Please. Give this to me as a wedding gift, and I shall never ask anything else of you.”
“Do you know what you’re saying?” Frederick shook his head. “It would be treason.”
She wiped a sleeve across her damp face. “Treason against whom? An unjust king who cares nothing for the suffering of common people?” If he did not help them, she wondered whether she would be able to forgive him. She stared into his eyes, wishing, praying for him to relent. “They will hang him,” she whispered, “merely for loving his wife and child.”
He looked across the room again, his struggle evident in his grinding jaw and deep frown. Anger stormed across his eyes. He stared at the floor, and his lips formed a thin line. At last, he slapped his hat back on and pointed at Rob. “Do not be here when I come back.” Then he strode out the door, slamming it on his way.
Gulping back tears, Rachel refused to think of all this meant for their future. “You must have help. I’ll go to my father.” She opened the door.
“Oh, miss, what if he won’t help?” Sadie began to sob again.
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know.” Lord, have mercy. Please soften Papa’s heart and make him help us.
She ran to the store and remained behind the burlap curtain until Papa’s customer left. Driven by urgency, she rushed into the room and locked the door.
Papa stared at her with a bewildered expression. “What’re ye doing, girl? ’Tis not yet closing time.”
“Sadie’s husband deserted and came here to see her. He’s out in the kitchen house right now. Please, Papa, no matter how you feel about it, I beg you to help them get away from he
re. They want to go to Cuba and—”
“Hold on a minute.” Papa held up his hands. “I’m getting yer meaning clear.” He scratched his chin. “Go fetch Mr. Patch. He should be at the livery stable. I’ll see what I can do.”
Rachel reached up to kiss his stubbly face. “Thank you, Papa. I knew you would help.”
He grunted. “Go on, girl. Don’t waste time.”
All the way to the stable, Rachel forced herself to walk instead of run, for she must not draw attention to herself. Now this was an adventure. This was something grand to do for someone else. Something so right that she risked displeasing Frederick, perhaps even losing him.
Dear Lord, please make him understand.
If he did not, she had no idea what she would do.
Frederick dug his heels into Essex’s sides and bent forward in the saddle. The stallion leapt into a gallop and thundered along the road to the plantation. A good, hard ride would clear Frederick’s mind and give the horse some much needed exercise.
He had come into town to make certain Rachel and Mr. Folger had recovered from their ordeal. He also wanted to deliver the news that Buckner had been brought to the fort and would face the ultimate punishment for his crimes, which included not only arson and murder but desertion. And now Rachel wanted him to help another man desert His Majesty’s service.
How could she have put him in this position? From her disparaging remark about His Majesty, she appeared not to have changed her mind about becoming a loyal British subject. He had been foolish to think she would alter her allegiance merely because they were in love.
Love.
The word struck into his soul, and he reined Essex to a walk that he might have more time to ponder its meaning.
Indeed, he did love her, and all the more for her courageous generosity in helping the poor, unfortunate little family at the expense of her own happiness. Frederick had no doubt she would carry that same courage into their marriage and into their lives in this wilderness. Was this not the reason he had fallen in love with her in the first place?
An ironic chuckle broke through the knot in his chest, and some of his tension dissolved. His little darling would ask nothing but the soldier’s freedom. Frederick recalled Mother asking something similar of Father, risking his wrath to acquire freedom for a mistreated slave. Mother and his beloved were much alike, a similarity that pleased him exceedingly.
He should have stayed to help her. Perhaps he should go back now. But this morning Oliver had requested an audience, and Frederick’s every instinct required him to tend to that matter first.
He would return tomorrow morning, and they would talk about the disagreements that threatened their happiness, not the least of which was their conflicting loyalties. He must help her to understand that their lives would not be in danger here in East Florida, for the rebellion would not reach these shores. As for her other concern, he would convince her that the plantation slaves would always be treated with fairness. She herself could see to it.
Kicking Essex into a gallop again, Frederick whispered a prayer into the wind. “Lord, You know how much I love her. Please help us to work out our differences.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Frederick crumpled the letter and flung it toward the hearth. How tired he was of receiving nothing but condemnation from Father. The earl barely mentioned last spring’s abundant shipment of indigo and rice. Instead, he harped on the expense of reinforcing the slave quarters and providing occasional meat for the plantation workers. Frederick wondered if it would be worth the effort to tell Father how well the quarters had withstood the recent storm or how the slaves worked harder in appreciation for his generous provision. No doubt the old man would still find some reason to call it wastefulness.
Leaning back in his chair, Frederick put his feet on the desk and toyed with the marble horse figurine Mother had given him before he left home. If not for her, he would have little trouble asking Father to replace him as the plantation manager.
No, that was foolishness. The people here thought well of him as magistrate, and in that position he had to answer to His Majesty, not Father. Furthermore, he would soon have a wife to care for, a fact that precluded any impulsive decisions such as leaving the plantation.
He sat up and retrieved the letter. It had been written over six weeks ago, before Templeton had a chance to reach London. Perhaps now Father’s opinion of Frederick had been improved by that worthy captain’s recommendations. But what bitter medicine to swallow that the earl would listen to anyone but his own son.
The sound of labored breathing outside the library window interrupted his thoughts.
“No, sir, I won’t do it.”
Frederick recognized the voice of Betty, the housemaid. She sounded as if she had been running.
“I saved your life, you stupid little wench.”
Oliver! What was the man up to now?
“Ow,” Betty whined. “Twist me arm all you like, I’ll not steal the—” Her words were cut off with a gasping cry.
Rage burned through Frederick’s chest, but he managed to move quietly to the hearth and remove the crossed rapiers from their brackets.
“Shall I feed you to those alligators?” Oliver’s voice held cruel amusement. “Ow. You little—” Had she stuck him? Bit him?
The unmistakable sound of a slap. A girlish whimper.
Frederick dashed from the library, down the hall, and then out the back door. There on the back lawn Betty knelt weeping with her hands to her face. Several slaves watched wide-eyed from the corner of the house. Oliver stood over Betty and drew back his foot.
“Kick her, and you are a dead man.” Frederick raised one rapier and pointed it at Oliver.
The face his former friend turned to him resembled nothing Frederick could recognize—a dark, wild-eyed frown, an ugly grimace, cheeks contorted with hatred. He hurled out a blasphemous curse, words Frederick never permitted at the plantation.
“So you’re home after all.” Oliver’s expression eased into a scornful scowl. “And playing with swords. My, my, Freddy, aren’t we brave.”
Frederick swallowed his fury and tossed the second weapon toward Oliver. It landed at his feet.
“Pick it up.” Lord, help me. Perhaps this was not the best way to handle the situation.
Without removing his angry stare from Frederick, Oliver reached down to retrieve the foil. “You know, of course, that I am your better.” He emitted an odd snicker. “At fencing, I mean.” He bowed the blade slightly and swished it through the air.
Frederick looked beyond Oliver to see little Caddy helping the frightened housemaid to her feet. “What did he want you to do, Betty?”
“Keep your mouth shut, girl.” Oliver kept his gaze on Frederick.
“For me to steal the keys from Mrs. Winthrop is what he wanted.” Tears streaked her face. “But I wouldn’t do it, no sir, not for him nor nobody.”
“Good girl.” Frederick felt a presence behind him and glanced back to see Summerlin, Cousin Lydie, Dr. Wellsey and several grooms. Old Ben held a pitchfork, and determination filled his black eyes as he glared at Oliver.
“Ah, me.” Gratitude filled Frederick, followed by a twinge of disappointment. He truly longed to take Oliver on and prove him wrong about his swordsmanship. “Too much help for a fair fight. Shall we call it a draw?”
“Coward.” Oliver flung down the sword and strode toward the stable.
Frederick stopped Oliver with the side of his blade. “We will talk in the library now.”
Oliver jerked away and moved toward the house.
“Oh, dear, Frederick.” Cousin Lydie touched his arm. “What if he—”
“It will be all right, dear.” Frederick patted her hand. “You see to Betty.” He motioned to Summerlin and Wellsey.
Inside, Dr. Wellsey closed the library door, and Summerlin leaned out the window and shooed away curious servants. Seated behind his desk, Frederick watched Oliver crumple into a chair and stare at the
floor.
“Well, Oliver, out with it.” Frederick had difficulty keeping a stern tone, for he would prefer to entreat his lifelong friend to explain his behavior. “Why did you need the keys?”
“Now, really, Freddy, if you had not taken my set of keys, none of this would have happened.” Oliver rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I did not plan to take all of your money. Just enough for passage to Brazil. Oh, and a little food along the way.” He brushed a bit of dirt from his shirtsleeve. “My needs are modest.”
Frederick felt his jaw go slack. “Why did you not simply ask me?”
“I should not have to ask for what I have earned.” His hands clenched, Oliver fidgeted, as if ready to take flight. “Simply put, I am leaving. I have depended upon your father’s generosity for too long. It is time to make my own way in the world.”
Frederick caught Oliver’s emphasis on your. “What happened to prompt this decision?”
Oliver’s face pinched into a grimace. “Your man Summerlin here has been with your family since he was fourteen.” He glanced over his shoulder. “An excellent fellow, the epitome of uprightness. He, eh, informed me of certain happenings in the year before my birth that precluded some, uh, suspicions I have carried since boyhood.”
Wellsey grunted, but Summerlin’s neutral expression did not change.
“Ah.” Both dismay and relief flooded Frederick. “Whatever the issue may be, I pray you will find peace in its regard.”
“Peace? Ha.” Oliver leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs. “Lord Bennington has always treated me as a…treated me kindly and praised my business acumen. I thought to manage this plantation in your stead. But I could do that only if you failed.” His eyes narrowed. “What do you think of that?”
At the affirmation of his worst suspicions, Frederick could hardly speak past the lump in his throat. “Did you plan that before we came here? No, I know you didn’t. On our voyage over, we were friends as we always have been.” He exhaled a labored sigh that hurt clear down to his belly.
Love Thine Enemy Page 20
