Officers cleared their throats, some shifted awkwardly looking over their shoulders.
“I did,” said Captain Sunderland. “In appreciation for his heroic efforts in rescuing Lady Faulkner as I am sure you are so inclined with the gratitude we owe him.”
Faulkner glowered. At the head of the table, he fluttered his flaccid fingers in unconcerned consent for Sunderland to sit opposite Juliet. Joshua gritted his teeth, his immediate contempt of Captain Sunderland filled him with loathing.
As an afterthought, the colonel signaled Joshua to the far end of the table next to the scarecrow sergeant, who smiled, making his cadaverous face seem thinner and longer.
To his other flank stood the lieutenant who performed his vocation wiping drool.
Colonel Faulkner was seated by his adjutant and the rest followed.
“Missives have come in across the lake? Any word of rebel attacks?” said the pox-faced scarecrow sergeant oblivious to his breech. Joshua couldn’t blame the man. Any news from home was prized.
The colonel flicked his eyes over his inferior’s indiscretion. “My son will be coming for a visit.”
“Edmund is coming?” Juliet’s eyes shone. “When?”
“Any day now,” said the colonel and his mouth tightened, his version of a sardonic smile. He shook out his napkin, leaned over the table to give a personal tone to the watchful eyes and said. “Of worthy note, War Chief Thayendanegea has sent strings of wampum to me.”
Joshua tucked the information away. The woven shell beads signified a certificate of Thayendanegea’s office, passing on the truth and importance of the message. The meaning was powerful and further declaration of the unification of the Iroquois in backing the British against the Patriots.
“As long as the sun shines upon the earth, as long as the water flows, as long as the grass grows, and as long as the Mother Earth is still in motion, the agreement shall be forever binding. Can’t get any better assurances from the savages.” The colonel laughed at his own joke, his tresses, powdered and glossed with flowery pomatum dusted the air. Joshua had read a tale of mice who ran up a man’s back to eat the powder and pomatum off a man’s hair.
“How will you deal with Washington if he dares to flounder into the wilderness with his troops?” Joshua goaded.
There was a faint trembling at the corners of the colonel’s mouth followed by a flush of anger on his cheeks. “General Washington is a stupid, arrogant blunderer, trying to crush the proud spirit of a mighty people. He will fall beneath the boot heel of the empire.”
Hubris hung in the air.
Joshua could remind him of the Patriot successes…Fort Ticonderoga, the retaking of Boston, Trenton, and Saratoga.
He said nothing, his attention caught by the expression on the captain’s face. The man stared at Juliet, transfigured like a man in love or caught in a religious trance. Joshua’s fingers gripped his flagon and if it were not metal might have broken.
The colonel hoisted his flagon, held it aloft where the lights shot beams of reflection off it. “As commander of Fort Oswego, I give a toast to my dear cousin, Juliet and to her safe return to civilization.”
Joshua raised his flagon with the others, all eyes focused on the colonel. In the sudden stillness, the candlelight flickered by a breeze coming in the window and threw shadows across his flabby face.
There was an abortive movement of flagons toward mouths—stopped as the colonel lifted his flagon higher. “The die is cast. These inferior colonial traitors must submit, the criminal enterprise of their rebellion must be crushed. We cannot allow America to be ruled by the usurpers.”
He threw back the contents of his flagon, and then slammed the vessel on the table to be refilled by an attentive soldier who stood against the side and doubled as a servant. The others at the table joined him.
At the colonel’s nod, soldier-servants brought plates of food for the table. Succulent roast venison, crispy meat pies, baked beans with molasses, stuffed turkey, rounds of oatbread, even caviar taken from sturgeon of the Great Lake of Ontario.
“The gifts to the Indians are cultivating their favor,” said Joshua, leaning back in his chair—anything to feint a response from the colonel.
The colonel frowned as a bishop hearing a bawdy joke. “A mistaken philanthropy. The guns, knives, kettles, and food given them have created a never-ending demand for more. They have become lazy and do not hunt for their food or grow their corn. Like maggots they feast on their host.”
Joshua lifted his hands, palms up. “But is it not a useful way to encourage an ally?”
There was a silence broken by the snuffling of a horse and the sharp song of a grackle strutting on the sill, a long-tailed version of an English blackbird, insolent and unconcerned.
“Whatever is necessary.” The colonel’s hard blue eyes peered across the table, as if studying his prey.
Necessary? Burning down the homes of innocent families and murdering them?
Joshua cultivated a pose of well-bred indifference and pinned his gaze on the colonel. “May I compliment you on securing the northern border and continuing the commerce of trading. No doubt your brilliant action will be recommended to His Majesty’s favor,” said Joshua, grudgingly politic and disgusted.
The colonel’s conspiratorial grin seemed to spread over his body, and drawing in everyone to share the news. “Of course, greatness is an earned experience. For me, it appears to be consistent. I suppose it depends in part upon the myth-making creativity of humanity. The person who experiences greatness must have a feeling for the myth he is in. He must reflect what is thrust on him.”
Joshua caught the exaggerated roll of Juliet’s eyes before she pasted on a benign expression. “What are your reflections, dear cousin?”
All eyes turned upon her, and then to the colonel. No doubt, fired in her belly was the insult her cousin made to her upon arrival. Joshua’s appraisal of Juliet raised another notch. The colonel had unwittingly released a cougar and the wildcat was setting her sharp claws into his arrogance.
The colonel waved to his servant to fill his glass with more wine. “My reflections? I bask in the knowledge people do not aspire to become extraordinary. Admittedly, happenstance and burning desire has made me extraordinary.”
Juliet pressed her palm against her heart. “I remain overwhelmed, Cousin. To think fate has blessed you.”
“With certainty.” The colonel remained oblivious to her mockery.
She turned her attention to Sunderland. “Captain, how have you come to hold a military position in the Colonies?”
“I am the second son of Viscount Sunderland and serving His Majesty stretched before me. Of late, I have received word my older brother is quite ill and the doctors have said he will not make the summer.” He looked at the colonel. “I will be returning to England as soon as possible.”
Joshua tamped down a bark of laughter. So, he was to be a viscount. Joshua had gone to Oxford with the captain’s older brother. Sad to hear he was ill. The Sunderlands were a wealthy and fine family. As the wife of a viscount, Juliet’s status would increase. No wonder the colonel was pushing Juliet onto him. Faulkner himself would gain respectability by being a relative.
Joshua weighed the pros and cons. Sunderland was fair to look upon. He overlooked her tragic history in the Colonies and would protect her from any spurning of his class. Juliet marrying Sunderland?
A vein throbbed in Joshua’s neck. After seeing her bedecked in the alluring gown tonight, he decided he must encourage the relationship between Juliet and Sunderland. The frontier was no place for a woman of her stature. To make promises on his part would be selfish and too dangerous for her. She must be sent to live in England with all the refinements and good things life might afford her. Most importantly, she’d be protected, safe.
Joshua let the rum burn down his throat. Why was he not happy with the turn of events? He pictured her in fine silks and satins coming down the stairs at Belvior. His fantasy swung beneath the
boughs of a great oak, on soft sweet grass to where he milked the essence of her feminine passion. More images emerged. Holding her naked in his arms and releasing a potent lovemaking this siren simmered with; her long hair loose and making a soft shawl over his shoulders, her breasts melting into him and a white leg flung over his thigh so that he did not know when his body ended and hers began.
She glanced at him, and she colored. Was it with the remembrance of what he did to her? He smiled. She straightened, quickly shifted her concentration to Sunderland.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. The gods were not inclined to let him be, leaving the red-haired witch to weave her enchantment.
No. Do not touch her again.
Juliet cleared her throat. “Captain Sunderland, have you read Locke or Spinoza?”
Like an overeager puppy, the captain was quite taken Juliet had singled him out. “I am acquainted with them, Lady Faulkner.”
“Have you given any thought to the old idea where absolute authority is given to the King and his ‘Divine Right’ is an illusory power and will continually be in direct conflict to where men should be governed by officials they have chosen?”
The colonel pounded his fist on the table. The dinnerware jumped. “Such talk is treasonous and will not be heard.”
Bestowing a demure expression on her cousin, she said, “I am only repeating the philosophers’ claims. As Locke and Spinoza have purported, the age-old concepts of monarchy and aristocracy are to crack. The riveting tide sweeping across Europe will not be stopped.”
Joshua’s muscles tensed. Hold your tongue, Juliet. To argue with a man who likened himself to a heavenly body was useless. Yet he held her in secret admiration as she met her cousin’s glare unflinchingly.
“Bah,” Faulkner scoffed. “The promiscuous association between the classes must not once be tolerated. The nobility knows what is better for the lower classes and should rule over their ignorance.”
Juliet pressed home her advantage. “What of Saratoga? The colonials won. Are not the Americans an example?”
“An accident. Rabble winning their rudderless war.”
“There.” She dabbed her linen napkin on her lip and glanced down the table. “For someone who usually has something usually to say, I’d say you are fairly quiet, Mr. Hansford. After living these years in the Colonies, do you have an opinion?”
Joshua inhaled. He avoided unwanted attention. He must not be suspect. Hanging existed the punishment of a spy. “If I may speak, Lady Juliet. Correcting legend is a very different and freakish pastime of making saints out of satyrs and satyrs out of saints, by which certain easy reputations have been won.”
Juliet sniffed at his condescension. “I could point out your opinion could be viewed by both Patriot and Loyalists.
“Joshua is obviously loyal in his contention and his opinion is intelligent,” the colonel said. “I agree with him. In time, the legend of General Washington will reveal the man’s faults and frailties along with his mislead followers,” said Colonel Faulkner, breathing heavily from the exertion of his speech.
Joshua smiled without mirth. “That is to flatter me beyond all I deserve.”
“What does it mean that the French have entered the war?” Juliet asked.
An uneasy silence settled over the room. The yellow-faced scarecrow of a sergeant smacked his lips with Juliet’s sacrilegious comment while the lieutenant gasped for air. The rest of the officers gave her a patronizing smirk.
The colonel brushed at a nonexistent piece of lint on his shoulder but his voice cut across the room like a whiplash. “Politics are not for your sex. Women are far too delicate.”
The colonel used a roll to maneuver food on his plate to sop up the gravy. “Captain Sunderland, I think it would be gracious of you to invite my cousin for a tour of the fort, maybe even a picnic on the lake. She has gone through an ordeal, reducing her to feminine vapors. The exercise will help refresh rational thought.”
Joshua shook his head to warn her to remain quiet. She tossed her head and sipped her wine. No doubt, it rolled sour over her tongue.
The colonel narrowed his eyes. “What do you think, Joshua? You have been with my…cousin.”
Faulkner circled like a dog tormenting sheep, a master at casting doubt by endeavoring to entrap Joshua and besmirch Juliet. To place a well-aimed fist through the colonel’s drooping face would satisfy immensely. The sooner he put Juliet out of harm’s way the better. By Sunderland’s veneration of her, she would live well with a devoted husband. The captain’s fervor cemented Joshua’s decision.
“Captain Sunderland, hosting a picnic for Lady Faulkner might be the thing to clarify her thoughts.”
He didn’t look at Juliet. He had to give up the greatest gift of his life. He’d stay with her forever if he could…wrapped in her arms. He dreamed his best when she slept with him, curling up to him close and dear. Sometimes he’d lie there watching her. She’d wake for the briefest moment, gaze at him, smile and go back to sleep…and he was home.
Maybe all that was a dream too. He was a man stuck with the nightmare of his Sarah Thacker. He didn’t want to see the hurt or the fury in Juliet. He cursed. Never should he have touched her.
Whatever his feelings were toward Juliet he didn’t not live up to the principles ingrained in him since birth—to protect those for whom he was responsible. His shameful neglect left him flawed and undeserving. If he’d been closer to Sarah, not left her alone and vulnerable, perhaps he might have prevented her death. And therein lay the problem…if he wasn’t away at war.
Chapter Nineteen
The next day, numb and emotionless, Juliet stopped beneath an alcove in the courtyard near the officers’ quarters and pulled in her billowing skirts. How stiff and confining the dress felt compared to the soft doeskin. She placed her palm on the coarse hand-hewed log wall. Patches of splintery bark abraded her fingertips, and she shifted them across the cool rough chinking, still irked by Joshua’s callous dismissal of her.
She watched him as he leaned indolently against the corner. A warm land breeze ruffled his dark hair and, for a moment the thick waves rippled as if tousled by the fingers of an invisible lover. How she yearned to run her fingers through his hair…to keep on touching him.
No. She couldn’t afford to care or indulge herself in emotions that would lead to nowhere. Keep the relationship on an impersonal level. That was the best way to deal with matters.
Unaware of her presence, he stood alone looking up at the fort’s parapets, the frontiersman whose fame and marksmanship garnered respect across the Colonies. How strange his observant activity. Things didn’t add up. The questions he asked at dinner the evening before were carefully constructed. An offer in sympathy to the Loyalist cause? Or was it?
She tapped a finger on her lips. Was his friendly chatter and worthless information used to worm-out secrets under the guise of conversation? How his questions probed yet didn’t probe and how he seemingly hung back in the shadows.
For encouraging Captain Sunderland, she took a step toward him to give him a piece of her mind, but stopped. Held herself back. Aphrodite, Joshua had called her, now that unfettered creature, imprisoned in a dark cell like a butterfly pinned under glass. It was pathetic, appalling—and she held thoughts of retaliation against the man who had reduced her to this dreadful feeling. He had made clear his intentions. Or had he? She saw how his eyes followed her during the dinner when he thought she wasn’t looking. How his hands fisted and unfisted when other men paid attention.
A soldier came up to Joshua, bowed formally and addressed him, practically genuflecting. Why such reverence? Juliet did not hear what he had to say, but Joshua looked around worried. He placed his hand on the soldier’s shoulder, and faintly she overheard him say, “Keep quiet.”
Keep quiet? Regarding what? How peculiar.
Joshua stepped off the porch and joined Two Eagles where he had set up their furs amidst a knot of raw, uncouth traders, haggling over their pelts. She l
ifted her nose with the smell of them. How long had it been since they bathed? A month? A year?
A trader moved into a familiar bartering pose—shoulders hunched forward, hands held out, palms upward. Joshua shook his head and pushed the man’s hand away. This was Joshua’s means of support? This is what he lived for?
If she stayed with him, she’d live a life alone for many months in a log cabin while he was roaming the wilderness making a livelihood. Her musings scattered. Festering occurrences of the past tore open old wounds. She was alien, did not belong.
But wouldn’t those seldom moments together yield a lifetime of happiness?
Joshua turned to the other dealers. “What price?”
A hatchet-faced trader crushed the brim on his hat in agitation. “I might go as high as four pounds for the whole lot.”
Three pairs of eyes glinted their approval. The price was too low. The negotiating continued while Joshua pitched a higher price. The traders pitched a sigh which seemed to start in their boots.
“What a nice surprise, Lady Faulkner. Have you come to find me?”
Juliet turned sharply at Captain Sunderland’s voice.
Young and handsome in his white wig and bright uniform with its polished brass buttons and bronze gorget, Captain Sunderland might have captured Juliet’s fancy if she’d met him back in England. But now he seemed a mere boy compared to the big, brooding frontiersman.
At the sound of her name, Joshua looked up from what he was doing, his deep blue eyes flashed upon her, fierce and possessive. As if she were his property. Everyone followed his stare. A murmur of interest rippled through the fast-swelling crowd.
Recalling how Joshua had carelessly thrown her to Captain Sunderland the evening before, she smiled up at the captain, giving her full attention. Yes, she’d use her feminine wiles on the captain and seize the moment.
“Why-why, of course. You promised me a picnic and I wondered if now might be a good time.” Juliet breathed a most captivating smile for Captain Sunderland’s benefit, as if her approval were the most important mission he could attain in life.
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