Longings of the Heart (14 page)

“No. It’s nothing.”

“It is. Tell me.”

Lydia tipped her glass slightly and gazed at the water inside, then looked at Hannah. “It’s David. He’s not come by to see me for some time. He’s been here, but he’s not talked with me. He did see Deidre. I’m certain he’s tossed me over for her. And I can’t blame him. She’s beautiful.”

“She’s comely enough and soft-spoken, but no more educated and not nearly the person you are. I can’t believe David would be interested in her. He has more insight than that. Deidre’s devious. I don’t trust her, not a bit.”

“I don’t either. Not anymore. At first she seemed quite nice. But I know better now.” Lydia clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m worried about David. Deidre just wants a man who will take care of her. She doesn’t love him.”

“I’m so sorry, Lydia. David seems to be a levelheaded sort, but if he believes Deidre is better for him than you, then you’re better off without him.”

“I suppose.” Lydia didn’t sound convinced. She pushed away from the table and stood. “My troubles are nothing. Ye’ve much more to be concerned ’bout. But I’ll wager that by the time ye return home, John will be there.”

“I pray you’re right.”

“Will ye stay and have dinner with me? Mrs. Goudy’s made a roast and fresh-baked pies.”

“Sounds delicious, but I dare not stay. I want to get home before dark.”

“I’m sure Perry can take you in one of the buggies. It’s been a long while since we supped together.”

Hannah was torn. On one hand, she hoped to find John at home, and on the other, she hated the thought of returning to an empty house. Time with friends would be a good distraction. “Do you think Catharine will mind?”

“Heavens, no. In fact, I’ll wager that if I invite her to join us, she will.”

“All right. I’ll stay.”

Hannah stood beside the buggy. “I’ve had a grand time,” she told Mrs. Atherton.

“So pleased you came by. Say hello to John for me. And tell him to work a bit less. One needs to have some leisure now and again.”

“I’ll tell him.” Hannah felt a twinge of guilt. Except for Lydia, she’d told everyone John had been unable to join her because of work.

Mrs. Atherton hugged Hannah. “Come again soon.”

“I will.”

Lydia grasped Hannah’s hand. “I’ll see you on Sunday, eh?” “I’ll be there.”

Perry assisted Hannah into the buggy, then climbed in beside her. Her mare was tied to the back. He slapped the reins and the horse stepped out briskly. “It’s going to be a fine evening. A bit chilly, but good for a drive through the countryside.”

“It is. Thank you for seeing me home. I feel badly that you’ll be returning after sundown.”

“I’ll light the lanterns and they’ll help me find my way just fine.” He turned his attention to the horse. “It’s a pleasure to be of help to a friend.” He gave Hannah a sideways glance. “Lydia told me.”

“What did she say?”

“Just that the two of ye had a row.”

Hannah’s anger flared.
Why would she say anything? She
knows I wanted it kept secret.
She glanced at Perry. “We did argue.” Hannah wasn’t sure she wanted Perry to know anything more, but she knew he genuinely cared about her and John. He was a true friend. “The truth is . . . he left. And has been gone for two days.”

“That’s not like him. What got into him?”

“It was a very bad fight.”

“Still, it seems a bit out of line.” He tapped the horse with his whip. “He’ll be back—probably there now.”

“I hope so.”

The ride home was pleasant. Perry talked about his work for Mr. Atherton and about his promising relationship with Gwen. Hannah was happy for him but couldn’t help but think about Lydia. If only things would have worked out between her and Perry—that would have been best.

Darkness swept over a blazing red sky. Perry stopped and lit the lantern. “Hope there’s enough oil to last ’til I get home,” he said, climbing back into the buggy.

By the time they reached Hannah and John’s house, a promise of moonlight brightened the horizon. A light was on in the house. Hannah’s heart quickened. “John. He’s home.”

“See, I told ye.”

Just as Perry pulled the buggy up in front of the porch, the house went dark. “Strange.” He pulled the brake and secured the reins, then climbed down, turning to assist Hannah.

“Wait ’ere. Something’s not right.”

“There’s no light in Quincy’s cabin either,” Hannah said. Jackson barked and whined from inside the barn. If John had returned, he’d certainly have let the dog out.

Perry lifted one of the lanterns and grabbed his musket.

Fear ignited inside Hannah. “What are you thinking? Who could it be except John?”

“If he were home, why’d he put out the light? And he’s not come out to greet us.” Perry headed toward the house.

“Please be careful,” Hannah whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.

10

Perry moved cautiously toward the front steps. The lantern in one hand and his musket clutched against his chest with the other, he glanced back at Hannah.

She offered what she hoped was a heartening smile but couldn’t keep her eyes from the front door. Who could be in the house? Why would they put out the light? Hannah prayed, but all sorts of frightening possibilities flooded her mind.

What if some horrible man waited inside . . . waited to slay them? If that were true, Hannah couldn’t allow Perry to face him alone. She searched about for something to use as a weapon. All she found was the driving whip. Hands shaking, she grabbed hold of it and followed Perry.

Holding the lantern higher, he turned to Hannah. “Stay back,” he whispered.

“I left the pistol on the hearth,” Hannah said softly. “What if the intruder has found it?”

“That’s not for ye to worry ’bout.” Perry glanced at the house. “I know what to do with this sort.”

“I don’t want you to go in alone. I want to help.”

Perry glanced at the whip in her hands. “With that? Ye can’t be serious.” He grinned.

“It’s better than nothing.” She set a determined look on Perry. “I’m going with you.”

“All right, then. But stay behind me.” Perry stepped onto the small porch, and a board creaked beneath his feet. He stopped and listened. There was no sound from inside. He pressed his ear against the door and then took hold of the handle and quietly lifted it. When there still was no response from within, he pushed open the door. He held the lantern aloft and illuminated the room.

Hannah held her breath. Her body quaked with tension.

Without warning, something slammed down on Perry’s arm from behind the door, knocking his musket out of his hands. The weapon, an iron poker, came down again, this time hitting the lantern and sending it to the floor. Oil spilled onto the boards and caught fire.

A man emerged and swung the rod again, slamming it into Perry’s face.

A sickening crack resounded and Perry fell. He lay facedown, arms limp at his sides. A crimson pool puddled on the floor. Perry didn’t move.

The man who hit Perry grabbed the cloth from the table and threw it over the small fire, stomping it out with his feet.

Hannah went to Perry, but before she could tend to him, the intruder grabbed her, pulling her against him and entrapping her in powerful arms. She screamed and tried to break free.

“Shut up!” He clamped a hand over her mouth.

Still screaming through the filthy palm, Hannah tried to wrench free. The man’s hold only tightened.

“I said, shut up!” He smacked her across the side of the head.

Light exploded within Hannah’s skull. Pain radiated into her neck and shoulder. The room spun and she thought she might faint. She stopped struggling.

The man’s hold remained tight. “I’ll let ye free if ye promise not to run off.”

Hannah managed to nod.

“Ye sit right ’ere and don’t move.” He pushed her into a chair and then let her loose.

“Stay put.” Keeping an eye on Hannah, he moved to the hearth, took a partially burned stick from the glowing embers, and lit the lantern on the hearth. He carried it to the table and set it down.

It illuminated the room enough that Hannah could better see Perry. He remained motionless. She stared at him, trying to see if he was breathing. She couldn’t tell. What if he was dead? She balled her hands into fists, hoping to control their trembling. Jackson barked ferociously from inside the barn. He knew there was trouble.

The lamplight brightened and Hannah was able to get a good look at her assailant. He was young, unshaven, and his long hair hadn’t seen a washing in many weeks. His clothes were ragged and filthy.
Most likely an escaped prisoner.

He pointed the musket directly at her, nodded toward Perry, and said, “Tie him.”

“But he’s hurt. He needs help.”

“Tie him.” The man’s voice sounded raspy.

Hannah took a piece of rope hanging from a hook on the back wall and moved toward Perry. He was so still.
Lord, please
don’t let him die.
She knelt beside him and laid a hand on his back. It rose beneath her palm. He was still alive!

“Tie his hands behind him.”

“He needs a surgeon.”

“Do it. Now!”

I’m sorry, Perry.
Hannah reached across his body and lifted one arm, then the other, and as gently as she could, secured his wrists with the rope. She left the knot loose.

The intruder poked her with the toe of his boot. “Ye think me an idiot?”

Unable to keep from trembling, she glanced up at him.

“Tighten it.”

Hannah took in a quaking breath. “He’s injured and unconscious. He’ll cause you no harm.”

The man grabbed a handful of Hannah’s hair and wrenched her to her feet. Holding her face close to his, he growled, “Ye talk back to me and ye’ll end up like yer man, ’ere.”

His breath smelled like rotting fish, and Hannah felt bile rise in her throat. She swallowed hard. Her scalp burned. “All right. I’ll do it.”

He let her go and Hannah forced herself not to rub her throbbing scalp. She retied Perry’s hands, then stood and faced the convict. “What do you want? I’ve nothing of value, but take what you like.”

He glanced at the empty hearth. “I’m hungry. What ’ave ye got?”

Hannah was glad she’d not cooked anything. This man deserved nothing hot in his belly. “I’ve some bread and cheese. And milk.”

“Get it, then.”

Hannah sliced pieces of bread, set them on a plate, and then added cheese. The man stared at the food, his eyes lit with hunger. He was thin, nearly to the point of starvation. She set the plate on the table and the intruder sat down, keeping the musket in one hand. Hannah filled a mug with milk and placed it in front of him. He stuffed bread and cheese into his mouth and chewed, keeping an eye on Hannah. His mouth full, he gulped down milk.

Hannah picked up the last of the bread and wrapped it in a towel.

“Don’t do that. I’ll want all of it. The cheese too.”

Placing the food on the table, she backed away. Her eyes went to Perry. Was he still alive? For a moment, she saw herself telling Gwen and Lydia about his death.
No! None of those
thoughts,
she told herself.

The man continued to stuff himself and finished off the milk. “Ye got something to drink besides this? I could do with a pint.”

“No. We’ve nothing except milk and water.”

“I’ll take water, then.”

Hannah quickly filled a mug from a pitcher and gave it to him. Jackson continued his barking.

“Sit there.” He nodded at a chair near the hearth. When Hannah was seated, he studied Perry for a moment and then returned to eating. Finally, his appetite satiated, he slumped back in his chair and belched. “Never did get enough to eat at the gaol.”

Hannah wished he would leave. What more could he want? She gazed at Perry. He looked ashen. How long could he live without help? She stood and took a step toward him.

“Sit!”

“Please. My friend needs a doctor. He’ll die—”

“Sit now!” His voice boomed and Hannah had no option but to obey. Glaring at her, the intruder stood and shoved the remaining food into his shirt and pants pockets. His gaze moved about the room, stopping when he saw the pistol on the mantel. He strode across the room, grabbed it, and shoved it into his belt. “Ye have powder?”

“Yes. There.” Hannah pointed at a shelf in the kitchen.

“Get it.”

Hannah moved swiftly. The sooner he left, the sooner she could get help for Perry. She handed him the pouch of black powder.

He grabbed it and looped the strap of the bag through his belt. “What else ye ’ave to eat?”

“I’ve more bread and we’ve some apples.”

She heard something outside and glanced at the door. The escapee heard it too and moved to the window. Careful not to expose himself to anyone who might be outside, he peered out. “Ye expecting anyone?”

“No. No one.” She stared at the door.
Lord, please don’t let
John step into this.

A sound like creaking boards came again. The convict turned and grinned at her. “Nothing but the horse pulling against the buggy.” He returned to the table. “Get a bag. And that bread.”

Hannah took the other loaf of bread out of the cupboard and held it against her abdomen. “The bags are in the barn.”