Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (40 page)

“I don’t care, Father. I
do
agree there’s value to attending church to remind us of our responsibilities to the Lord and each other, and to receive Him in communion; but in the end, ’tis our
individual
relationships with God that are important and should guide our way.”

Tayler said, “Well, Thomas, speaking of individual relationships, I think it’s no secret that I have a deep interest in Emily and would like to ask your permission to court her, such as our circumstances allow.”

Emily tensed, felt a rush of caution rise to her head. Tayler’s request had caught her completely off guard, and her instincts screamed at her to move more slowly. But then, was he really asking for anything more than what the two of them had already discussed? Probably not, she decided, though she hadn’t expected him to pose the question this soon, or in her presence. Relaxing, she turned her attention to her father, watched him with an impish, expectant grin; awaited his reaction, knew he was completely unprepared to respond.

Colman glanced at Emily then looked at Tayler. “Um . . . this is rather sudden, Hugh, especially with Emily present; but uh . . . even though
I
have no objection, I’d like to discuss it with Emily before I respond, if that—”

“No need, Father. Hugh and I have already discussed it; I’m quite agreeable.” She chastised herself for speaking rashly, again cautioned herself to move more slowly, make no commitments until she was sure of her feelings.

Colman looked at Emily, shook his head with a helpless, resigned look. “I should have known . . . but very well, I grant my permission . . . but only in the village . . . in plain sight of others.” He looked at Tayler.

“Aye, sir. I’d have it no other way.”

Though mindful of lingering caution floating in her mind, Emily smiled at Tayler, delighted in the thought of spending more time with him, perhaps
some of it hidden from observers. He stirred her heart and body more than any man in many a day, and she wanted to see where their relationship would lead. Still, she warned herself, I must protect my virtue.

Colman glanced quickly at Tayler then back at Emily. “So, uh . . . Emily, Hugh and I have something we must discuss, man-to-man. Would you mind waiting here for a moment while we step outside?” As soon as the words left his tongue, he knew they were awkward, knew Emily would resent them and respond in her usual acerbic way, braced himself for the inevitable storm.

Emily met his expectations with the force of a cannonball. “And what if I do not, Father? What then? Since it’s something I’m not to hear, it must involve
me
. So by what leave do you treat a grown woman this way?”

Her fire excited Tayler but intimidated Colman, who said, “I’m sorry, Emily. I didn’t say that well.” He looked at Tayler. “Sometimes there are things men must discuss alone, and this is one of those things. I promise you it has nothing to do with—”

“Fine, Father. Do as you wish. Good evening, Hugh. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned away, began tidying the cottage.

Tayler had hoped to prolong the evening with a walk around the village but read unmistakable finality in her tone. “Until then, Emily. Thank you very much for the supper. It was a most pleasant evening.”

As the two men stepped outside and closed the door, Emily wondered what they’d talk about. She knew she’d been abrupt with her father, regretted it as always; but even as she struggled to soften her ire, her alarm heightened as she imagined the two crafting a betrothal agreement for her marriage. He’s no right to do this, no right at all, she steamed. And I sha’n’t abide it no matter how I end up feeling about Hugh Tayler. She sat down on a stool, crossed her arms, fumed, pouted, waited for her father to return.

A minute later, Colman walked into the cottage, looking like a man about to be burned at the stake. While Emily glared at him, he spoke haltingly. “ Em . . . please allow me to . . .”

Emily stood, walked to within a nose of him, her eyes like flying daggers on their way to a target. “How dare you insult me like that, Father!
How dare you bargain with my life! How much did he agree to pay you for my hand? How could you do this to me? I don’t even know if I love him.”

Colman’s sad, mournful eyes, downturned lips, and pink nose made him look as if mortally wounded. “Em, my dear loving daughter, I could
never
do as you suggest. In twenty lifetimes, I could never bring myself to barter your future. Your future is yours and yours alone, and decisions regarding it are also yours alone.”

Emily’s outrage evaporated like a drop of water on a hot, windy day. She embraced her father, pulled him as close as she could. “Father, forgive me. I thought the worst . . . an impetuous fool, I am.”

“Nay, Daughter, my delivery was at fault. As so often happens when I speak to you, the well-intentioned words that depart my lips are poorly chosen and therefore poorly perceived. ’Tis my fault alone.”

Emily held him close, whimpered softly. “No, Father, I was rash and presumptive . . . but at least we can be honest about our shortcomings, and we both know we love each other deeply.” She pulled away to arms’ length, looked into his eyes with a smile. “Perhaps we’ll never learn the art of communication with one another, but our love is all that matters in the end, and we’re both secure in that. I love you, Father.”

He put his arms around her, pulled her to him. “And I, you, dear Emily. May God be with us in the days ahead.” After a few moments of silence, he said, “I should tell you what I discussed with Hugh as I’m sure it will come up when you walk with him. When we voted for the new Assistant, we elected Lieutenant Waters; and even though I nominated Hugh, I voted for Waters. ’Twas actually unanimous because everyone, even the usual malcontents, agreed that it was an oversight that he was not an Assistant from the beginning. He’s a most capable young man of good judgment and character . . . well worthy of the position. So, I told Hugh what I’ve just told you . . . thought he should hear it from me rather than someone else.”

“That was good of you, Father. How did he take the news? He
was
rather keen on the idea . . . but how could anyone quarrel with the choice.”

“He took it quite well, actually. A bit upset at first, but as you say, the logic is irrefutable to any sane man, and I believe Hugh to be such. I think he understood and felt better by the time we parted. I do like him, Em.”

Emily wondered if it were true, if Hugh had really accepted the decision, wondered where their relationship would go in the coming months. Would they fall hopelessly in love, or would their circumstances and the dramatic events ahead forge a different outcome?

As Hugh Tayler walked back to his cottage, he thanked the God he didn’t believe in but was afraid to ignore, for allowing him to know and love Emily Colman. Yes, he admitted, for the first time in his life, he was deeply, passionately, headlong in love, and that love was growing ever deeper. This vivacious, vibrant young woman has changed my life, he thought, given me new breath, a chance to rise above my past—all of the many things I’ve done of which I’m not proud, have run away from, closed my eyes and conscience to. She’s provided me the opportunity—nay
inspired
me—to become the noble human being I’ve always
wished
to be . . . but lacked the courage and character to
actually
be. Her mere presence has made me a different man, and I
shall not
let her down. I love her.

He then thought about his unanimous defeat in the Assistants’ election, saw the logic of their choice, resented it nonetheless; vowed to yet become an Assistant, knew it wouldn’t be long before another vacancy occurred.

Lieutenant Waters and his three sergeants huddled just outside the palisades. Waters looked at Smith. “About a third of our force will sail on each voyage, and you, Sergeant Smith, will command the men who go on the first, the day after tomorrow; I will command those on the second; and”—he looked at Myllet and Gibbes—“ you two will command those on the last voyage, with you, Sergeant Gibbes, acting as deputy to Sergeant Myllet.” Turning back to Smith, he said, “There will be but twenty-eight souls with you at Chesapeake, civilians and soldiers combined; and though the Savages there seem friendly enough, take
nothing
for granted. With that few people, you
will
be vulnerable. So you must plan and act from a defensive perspective.
Be alert, ready for anything. The five who are already there should have the village laid out and perhaps a start on cottages, but you should expect to live in tents initially, and I want you to first place piles of logs around the site for defensive cover. Whether we build grass mat cottages like here or bark cottages like the Savages prefer will depend on the availability of materials, which translates into time; and the time before winter being scant, we shall have to adopt the approach that yields the quickest winter-worthy shelter. The five there now have likely already made that decision. Also, Sergeant Smith, there will be three Assistants on your voyage, and they are Governor Baylye’s representatives, the decision-making authority, and are to be obeyed in all but pure military matters.” He glanced at Myllet and Gibbes. “Same for you two with regard to the Assistants who remain here for the last voyage.”

All three nodded assent.

“Now, men, we’re unfortunately exactly where I feared we’d be: hungry, under the constant threat of attack, and winter soon upon us. We will therefore need
all
hands to do whatever is necessary to ensure we have shelter and food for the winter.” The three sergeants looked at one another. “Time is against us, and nothing short of full cooperation and obedience will be tolerated from the men. Further, our already inadequate rations will grow more so in the days ahead—at least until we begin hunting and fishing at Chesapeake. So I anticipate that discipline and order, with both the troops and civilians, will be severely taxed in the days ahead, which means we soldiers must continue to lead by example, however difficult that may be. And on that note, how is morale, and what’s the level of discontent?” He drifted his gaze expectantly to all three in turn.

After a long silence, Myllet said, “Not good, Sir. The issues are the same as I mentioned before: lack of food and manual labor; but the intensity of the grumbling has become more severe, more open. So perchance our new start in Chesapeake will somewhat divert their minds.”

“And is the discontent universal or limited to a few?”

“As before, they
all
grumble . . . but a few are beyond grumbling and approaching that line that cannot be crossed. Again, I’m hopeful that new surroundings and more food will help the situation, but at the moment ’tis not good.”

“Well, I appreciate your candor, Sergeant. You all know where duty compels me to stand on this matter, and you must stand with me.” He looked into each man’s eyes, paused to let him grasp his intensity and resolve. “Nothing’s changed in our response to insubordination or mutiny— death by hanging or the axe—and public flogging by one of their mates for lesser offenses; and I expect you three to ensure the men understand this, and that you’ll promptly inform me of any who are about to cross the line. None of us want to carry out punishments against our own, so better that we
preclude
violations than deal with them after they occur.”

The three nodded agreement, but Waters read their faces, saw unspoken thoughts and words behind them, then concluded that a few men had already crossed the line. He realized the day would soon arrive when he’d have to demonstrate his resolve, make an example of some poor bastard who didn’t have the brains or maturity to understand the bigger picture: that all of their lives were inextricably entwined, that weakness of resolve by any jeopardized all. He thought back to his training, to how his instructors had repeatedly pounded the importance of unbreakable discipline into their heads, insisted that breaches could
never
be tolerated in Her Majesty’s army, demanded they be met with firm, swift punishment when they occurred. Yes, he dreaded that inevitable, inescapable day, but knew he had no choice, that anything less than immediate, harsh punishment would permanently undermine discipline and destroy the colony.