A World Apart (The Hands of Time: Book 3) (30 page)

Charles poured himself a large brandy, nearly spilling it as he raised the glass to his lips.  His hand was shaking, making it hard to hold the glass.  The fire in the hearth had been smoored for the night, leaving the room gloomy and cold, but Charles had no desire to try and coax the flame back to life.  He had his fury to keep him warm.  He pulled the dressing gown tighter around his waist and slumped into a chair, drink in hand.  This was the second time he hadn’t been able to make love to Annabel.  Things started off well, but then his cock went limp.  It was like trying to pick a lock with a wet herring.  Annabel pretended it didn’t matter, which made him feel even worse.  Didn’t it matter to her if her husband proved unable to satisfy her?  For the prim and proper image Annabel presented to the world, she was quite a passionate woman behind closed doors, and Charles had given no thought to any other woman since their wedding night. 

He took an angry sip of brandy, trying to understand what was happening to him.  The answer wasn’t very difficult to come by.  He was worried and scared – two emotions that were normally foreign to him.  It had been nearly
eight weeks since Alec, Valerie and Finn had vanished so mysteriously.  There had been no word from them in all that time, making Charles fear that something terrible had befallen them.  He had to admit that the thought of losing his brother, as well as the rest of the family, was terrifying. 

Despite their differences, he loved Alec with all his heart, even if he was too proud to admit it.  Alec had been his older brother and mentor ever since he came to Virginia in 1606.  Charles no longer harbored any
resentment regarding Finlay’s death, and wished he had the bollocks to tell Alec the truth and beg for his forgiveness.  He’d apologized to Alec after accusing him of Cora’s death two years ago, but they never actually discussed Charles’ feelings about Finlay’s death.  Charles wasn’t sure if Valerie ever told Alec that Charles blamed him for killing Finn in order to get to his wife.  All that was in the past now.  What mattered was rebuilding his relationship with Alec, if Alec ever came back.  Charles sighed, suddenly feeling cold. 
Where are you, Alec?
he thought. 
Please come back in one piece.
 
I need you here
.

Things at the plantation were not going well.  Little Louisa barely spoke to Charles or looked him in the face, but that was the least of his problems.  Winter was fast approaching
, and no ships had come from England with supplies.  The
Morning Star
was moored in the harbor, waiting for spring to sail to England again, and the
Misty Dawn
had come in from the West Indies with supplies, only to be looted as soon as the crates and barrels hit the dock.  These were desperate times, and people who would normally never consider theft were now more concerned with survival. 

Despite careful planning, their stores would not last through the winter.  The strange old man
who was staying with them until Alec’s return had proven to be unexpectedly helpful, but they would still not make it.  With twenty grown men to feed, besides the immediate family and servants, they would need ten times more than what they had now.  The hunting supplemented their provisions so far, but it would be harder once snow fell and the animals retreated deeper into the forest, forcing the hunters to go closer to Indian territory.  It wasn’t safe to go that far, not after what happened in March.  Charles wished Finn was there.  The boy was so clever with setting his traps.  Charles had never been much of a hunter, but Finn turned tracking and trapping into an art.  Any additional meat he could bring in would be very welcome.  Charles wasn’t a good enough shot to take down a rabbit, but Finn managed to catch them by the dozen, disguising his traps so cleverly that the animals didn’t know what hit them until they were caught. 

Charles finished his drink and set the glass down on the table.  He was tired and needed to go to bed.  He was sure his sexual prowess would return once Alec showed up and helped him shoulder some of the responsibility for the estate.  Charles had always wanted to inherit the plantation, but he never realized quite what a
burden it was until he was suddenly left in charge.

Abbie curled into a fetal position, her hands over her stomach.  She hoped she wasn’t going to be sick.  Martha was fast asleep, snoring lightly, oblivious to Abbie’s discomfort.  The cramps were terrible, forcing her to pull her legs closer to her belly to try and ease the pain.  She wished she could call her mother, but then she would have to explain about her and Finn, and she wasn’t about to do that.  Abbie wished that Finn would come back.  He’d been gone for over two weeks now, and she was worried sick.  They’d just heard about the sacking of the British fort a few days ago. 

British
patrols were all over the area, questioning folk and confiscating anything they labeled as “military supplies”.  Over one hundred soldiers had survived the explosion at the fort, but none of them could provide any information about the attack.  No one had seen or heard anything.  It’s as if the fort had been attacked by ghosts.  Abbie wasn’t sure exactly where Finn was supposed to be, but she thought it might have been somewhere in the vicinity of the fort.  What if he’d been hurt? 

Another cramp twisted inside Abbie’s stomach, a moan forcing itself past her lips.  She didn’t want anyone to hear.  She had to bear this alone.  Abbie sat up in bed, pulled her knees up to her chest and began to rock back and forth.  The motion seemed to ease the pain, finally allowing her to catch her breath.  She was so tired.  She had to feel better by morning.  Martha’s wedding was three days away
, and preparations had to be made.  Dozens of people would be arriving for the celebration, so they would begin cooking tomorrow.  Some things could be made in advance, while others would need to be prepared the day before.  Their mother had prepared a list with tasks for each of them, even the younger children.  They would be in charge of decorating the house with colorful leaves and ribbons. 

Abbie’s task was to help with the
baking and the barbeque.  A pit had been prepared at the back of the house where the pig would be roasted.  Abbie’s task was to baste it periodically with sauce and juice and turn the spit to make sure that the meat was cooked evenly.   The pig would take about twelve hours to cook through, so her father would light the pit several hours before dawn to make sure it was ready in time for the feast.  The pig would be left in the hot pit over glowing coals while the family went to church for the ceremony.   While Abbie was minding the pig, she’d also be helping with making apple tarts and baking biscuits on the morning of the wedding. 

Despite the chilly weather, trestle tables and benches would be set up outside for the guests, since there was no room in the house for so many people.  Abbie, her mother, and Sarah would have to bring dishes from the house as soon as they were ready to be served. 

Tomorrow they would be making a large vat of pumpkin soup and preparing cranberry sauce to go with the meat.  Abbie didn’t care much for the soup, but she’d always loved the tart cranberry sauce, and snuck a couple of spoonfuls into her mouth before covering the bowl with a cloth to keep the flies away.  She had to admit that she was looking forward to the wedding.  It’d been a long time since there’d been a party.  She hoped Sam would come home, but things could change at a moment’s notice, like the attack on the fort.  Her mother didn’t complain, but Abbie knew that having Sam back with them would make all the difference. 

Abbie lay back down on the bed as the cramps finally eased. 
She closed her eyes, hoping tomorrow would be a better day.

The afternoon shadows were just beginning to lengthen as the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon.  The gutters were choked with fallen leaves, and the smell of approaching winter and burning wood was in the air.  Valerie shivered in her cloak, unable to close it all the way due to the sling for her arm.  She wished she had brought a woolen gown and thicker stockings with her.  She might have to buy some.  Alec walked next to her, his face ruddy with the cold of the approaching evening.  They’d spent another day walking around town in the hope of finding Finn, but their search proved fruitless.  Valerie snuck a peak at Alec.  He looked tired and worn.  His bruises had faded, but his ribs were still sore, especially when he got out of bed or tried to pull on his boots.  These things took a long time to heal.  Alec seemed lost in thought as they bypassed a laughing couple walking with their children.  Something about the boy reminded Valerie of Finn when he was small, and she noticed Alec following the boy with his eyes.  He must have thought the same.

“Valerie, I think it’s time we went home,” he said suddenly. 

“I’m not leaving without Finn, Alec.  We must find him.”  Valerie stopped walking and turned to face Alec.  “We will find him.  I know it.”  Her words sounded hollow even to herself.  She knew Alec was right.  They’d plastered the town with broadsheets, and walked around endlessly in the hope of running into Finn, but it had all been in vain.  No one had come forward since Mr. Clements and Bessie.  Valerie felt frustrated and helpless.  Finn could literally be anywhere by now, perhaps even in a different colony.  Maybe whoever he’d been with was only passing through.  Alec’s eyes slid away from her face as he tried to argue his case.  He couldn’t bear to see her pain.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been here for
nearly two months.  The trail has gone cold weeks ago.” 

“Alec, we can’t leave.  You can go back if you wish
, but I’m staying.  Besides, people had seen him,” Valerie retorted stubbornly.  She began walking again, needing to do something in her agitation.

“
Valerie, those people must have been mistaken.  No one has seen him since, and it’s been weeks.  Clearly, he’s not here.  And I won’t leave you here alone, you know that.” He began to walk faster to keep pace with her, but Valerie suddenly stopped, grabbing Alec by the arm.

“Alec
, this is all my fault.  I can’t go back and live with this guilt for the rest of my life.”  Valerie looked up at him, willing him to understand.

“It’s not your fault.  How could you have known that Finn would go into Mr. Taylor’s room and start pressing numbers on the watch?  He hardly ever went up to the attic.  It just happened.  It wasn’t something you had done.”  Alec was trying to reason with her, but Valerie was adamant.

“Yes, it is my fault.  I should have listened to my instinct and sent Mr. Taylor away.  The man has a history of negligence.  Thanks to him, your grandmother and I wound up in the past.  I should have known better than to let him stay.  If not for me, Finn would be with us at home and everything would be all right.”  Valerie walked faster, forcing Alec to lengthen his stride to walk with her, his hand to his tender ribs.  She slowed down, feeling guilty.

“Valerie, blaming yourself will not get him back
.  Louisa and Kit must be sick with worry, and God only knows what they told the others.  We missed our daughter’s birthday with no explanation, and winter is only weeks away.  Unless the supply ships came in while we’ve been gone, there’s a lack of food in the colony that might lead to starvation.  I’m responsible for the well-being of my workers, as well as for the family.  I hope that Charles has stepped in to help Kit, but considering our relationship over the past two years, I’m not so sure.  We must return, love.”

Valerie looked up at the twilit sky.  The first stars were just appearing as
wispy clouds scuttled across the moon already visible in the darkening heavens.  She knew Alec was right, but couldn’t bring herself to admit it.  Admitting it would mean that there was nothing more they could do and it was time to go back.  The thought of a life without her son was unbearable.  How could she go on knowing that she would never see him, never find out what happened to him?  It was a fate worse than death.  She had already lost one son, how could she bear to lose another?  She knew Alec felt the same sense of bereavement, but he was able to be more practical, as he had been when it came to his brother’s imprisonment and death all those years ago; whereas she was more emotional, incapable of admitting defeat. 

“Alec, please, one more week.  If we haven’t had any leads by December 1
st
, we’ll go home.  I promise.  I just need a few days to come to terms with the inevitable.”  She slid her arm through his, leaning against him for warmth and support. 

“All right, love, one more week.  Shall we have some supper?”  They were almost at the inn, the windows of the taproom glowing amber in the gathering darkness, the sounds of laughter spilling through the door as it opened and closed with coming and going patrons. 

“I’m not very hungry.  Why don’t you eat in the dining room while I go upstairs?  I just need a little time on my own.”

“Shall I bring something up for you?  You must eat Valerie.  You hardly touched your dinner earlier.”  Valerie kissed Alec’s cheek, grateful for his concern. 

“I’m all right, just not very hungry today.  I have a bit of a headache and want to lie down.  Go enjoy your supper.”  Valerie let go of Alec’s arm, walking through the door of the inn and trotting up the stairs, unable to watch people talking and laughing in the taproom when her heart was in pieces.  She just wanted to be alone for a while, in the dark solitude of their room. 

Alec went up to the bar to get a tankard of ale.  He was tired, achy, and heartsick.  He’d
wanted to broach the topic of departure for some days now, but was afraid of Valerie’s reaction.  Even if she agreed to go home, she would blame herself for the rest of her days, mourning Finn as if he died.  Alec couldn’t bear the thought of Finn being dead.  He wanted to believe that his son was out there somewhere, making a life for himself in this remarkable new world.  If he had been younger, he would have been excited to find himself in the future, part of events that would change the country forever. 

“Mr. Whitfield, isn’t it?”

Alec turned to find two men approaching him through the crowded room.  One of the men looked vaguely familiar, but the other one was a stranger for sure.  Alec hoped this had nothing to do with the events of the night of Valerie’s kidnapping.  People had speculated about the fire at the Gale farm for some weeks, but eventually the curiosity died down.  Neither Bobby Mann nor Percival Gale had been well-liked, and many secretly thought they’d gotten what was coming to them. 

“Yes, how may I be of help?”
Alec asked warily, not sure he wanted to talk to these men.

“Mr. Whitfield, I’m Alfred Hewitt.  We met
some weeks ago in this very room.  This is Noah Brady.  May we have a word?”