Midnight (21 page)

“Yes, it is. Nicholas and I are married.”

His eyes widened and he stared between the two of them before shouting at Faith, “How could you! Have you no shame!”

“You asked me to leave, remember.”

“How dare you!” he shouted. “How dare you sully my blood with the blood of this”—he swung his eyes to Nicholas—“this bastard!”

“Father!”

“Don’t
Father
me, you ungrateful chit! Have you no idea of the perfidy that runs through the Grey line! How traitorous and vile they are! His father stole Adeline from me! Impregnated with his foul sperm and that,” he snarled, pointing with fury at Nicholas, “is the result!”

Faith was trying to hold on to her temper, but she was shaking with angry emotion. “You should leave, Father,” she declared through gritted teeth.

“Not until you renounce this disastrous union and come home where you belong!”

“Leave us! Now!”

He slapped her.

The painful blow exploded in her cheek and rocked her off her feet. She covered her throbbing cheek.

Nick roared and threw a punch that exploded into Kingston’s face. When the man staggered and went down, Nicholas followed him, landing blow after blow.

Alarmed, Faith screamed, “Nicholas! Stop!”

But Nicholas was in a blood rage. It was his intention to beat Kingston to death for his violent act, and he probably would have had not Faith’s cries finally pierced the furious fog encasing him. Only then did he feel her frantic tugs on his arm, trying to pull him away.

“Nicholas! For me! Please! Please!”

His anger still ruling, he saw her tears and the terror in her eyes.

“Please,” she whispered, sobbing. “If you kill him you will hang!”

She was right, of course, but his anger was white hot. Breathing harshly, his fists still balled, he backed off and looked malevolently down at the bloodied face of the man at his feet.

“You’re still a bastard!” Kingston spat out as he wiped at the blood pouring from his nose and mouth. “And I hope Primus is rotting in hell! I’m proud to be the cause of his arrest and death. He deserved no better after what he did to me!”

Nicholas stared and roared, “You were the one!”

Kingston stumbled to his feet. “Yes! He called himself a friend. Said he’d look after Adeline until I returned from England, but by the time I did, they’d married and she was carrying you!”

Something inside Nicholas shattered. He grabbed Kingston by his collar and seethed, “Only my feelings for Faith are keeping me from killing you. Get out of my house! Never come back! Never!” He dragged Kingston to the door and threw him out.

When he returned Faith was dragging her palms over her wet eyes.

“Let me see your face.”

She showed him her cheek throbbing from her father’s blow. He touched it gently. “I want to kill him for putting his hands on you and then kill him again for my father!”

She had never seen him so angry. “I know. I’m so sorry. I never thought he could do something so vile. He boasted that Gage had Primus in his sights, but I didn’t know it was because he’d betrayed him.”

“God, I want to kill him!” he growled again and pulled her roughly into his arms.

She could feel his heart pounding.

“If he even looks at you after this, I’ll hang.”

She squeezed him tight. “He isn’t worth your life, too.”

“I don’t know what to do with this anger, Faith. He’s your father.”

“I know.”

Nick knew if he didn’t do something with his murderous feelings he might wind up lashing out at Faith and he didn’t want that. “I need to work this through, so it’s good I’m going to Concord. I don’t wish any of this to boil over onto you. I’m not accustomed to letting a man live after all he’s done and I’m trying very hard not to go after him and slit his throat.”

She stared up at him.

“I’m sorry but it’s true. I’ve lived life by a very harsh code, and a man like him doesn’t deserve to see another sunrise.”

Their eyes held.

He told her softly, “It’s who I’ve been. Who I am. Remember the conversation we had about why I don’t pray?”

She did.

“This is one of the reasons why.”

She didn’t know what to say.

“If I don’t wish for our adventure to end with me on the end of a rope and your father in his grave, pounding out bayonets will help.”

“You will come back to me.”

“Always.”

Tears filled her eyes. “Then go and help the rebels and slay your demons. I’ll be here when you return.”

He nodded.

Nick looked at this woman he’d made his wife and who held his heart. “I love you.”

“And I you.”

“If the war does begin, I may not be able to get back and tell you good-bye until it’s done.”

She nodded stoically. “I understand.”

The last thing Nick wanted to do was to leave her, but he’d already given Arte his word and knew that his help was needed in Concord. If the war started he and the others had no alternative but to fight. However, the thought of being away from her for who knew how long made his heart ache.

Nick looked down and drank in her lovely presence so he’d have the memory to call upon in the days ahead. “If the fighting does break out before I return, go to Bekkah’s, and the two of you hide in her woodlot if the soldiers march through. I wouldn’t put it past them to ransack and plunder on their way and you shouldn’t be in the house if that’s what they do. Keep yourself as safe as you can.”

“I will. Godspeed,” she whispered, before adding pointedly, “and do not get yourself killed.”

He smiled. “I won’t. I promise.”

They shared one last fervent embrace before she walked with him out to the porch. A few seconds later, she watched him ride away. He’d promised he would return and she would have to be content with that, but her heart ached as she went back inside and closed the door.

As she walked into the parlor, she looked up at Adeline’s portrait and wondered if Adeline knew how her marriage to Primus had resonated through time. It was like a tragedy written by the Bard. Faith just wished she and Nicholas hadn’t been written into the epilogue.

Chapter 21

T
he next morning Faith awakened to a silent house. There were no sounds of Nicholas outside chopping wood and the fire in her grate had died and gone cold. The room was freezing, so she got up and made her fire, then crawled back beneath the bedding to wait for the temperature to rise enough to cut the chill. With him away for who knew how long, she supposed she was on her own. It was not daunting but she already missed him very much. Having had him by her side since the day of the wedding, it was odd to have him gone. She needed to find something to occupy her until the sharp edges of his absence dulled a bit, so she decided to make it bread-baking day with the hopes that the task would keep her hands and troubled mind busy enough to prevent her from drowning in her woe.

As Faith set the first few loaves on the fire, Charity and the baby stopped on their way to Boston, and Faith was glad to see her friend. Charity set the basket holding the sleeping Peter down on the table. She took one look at Faith’s swollen cheek and asked softly with concern, “What’s happened?”

Faith told her about her father’s visit and that he’d confessed to betraying Primus. When Faith finished, Charity shook her head sympathetically. “I can’t believe your father would do something so awful. Did he and Nicholas fight?”

“Oh yes. I don’t think he’ll be visiting us ever again.”

“Then that’s good. Where’s Nick now?”

“In Concord with the minutemen preparing for war. I’m not sure when he’ll return.”

Charity sighed. “I know the British have to be chased out, but you and Nick are newly married. This has to be difficult.”

“It is.”

“You both seemed so happy.”

“And we were until the past rose up and sent us both to hell. I don’t blame him for being angry at my father. Had someone I loved been betrayed that way, it would take me who knows how long to rid myself of the fury. However, I miss him, terribly. He’s in my heart now, Charity, and there’s no taking him out. I also told him about my being Lady Midnight.”

Charity’s mouth dropped. “And how did he react?”

“Said I had balls.”

Charity’s hand flew to her mouth and she laughed. “The man loves you. He’ll return, you’ll work out what to do about your father and make me an aunt before the year is out.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am. The way he watches you makes me envious. I wish Ingram would look at me as if he wanted to eat me up.” She paused, looked into Faith’s eyes, and said with genuine feeling, “You’re very lucky, Faith. Always remember that.”

Faith knew she would value their friendship for the rest of her life. “I will, but I wish this war would go ahead and begin so that everyone can get on with their lives. Being on pins and needles is very wearing.”

“Gage has been marching all four thousand of the troops day and night according to Mother. She thinks he’ll send them out in the next day or so.”

“Everyone keeps saying that but nothing happens. It’s maddening. What of Ingram? Is he still supporting the King?”

Charity sighed. “Yes. In fact, he and some of the other Tories have signed up as auxiliary reserves. They won’t be issued uniforms, but will help with the driving of munitions and supply wagons. He gets angry with me when I take the rebel side. He says that as his wife I should let him do my thinking. I scoffed at that, of course. He knew I had my own opinions when he married me. It’s far too late for either of us to pretend otherwise.”

“I’m sorry.”

“His single-mindedness is worrisome because he knows nothing about war or weapons. He’s a farmer. That innocence could get him killed, and, Faith, I would not survive if something happened to him.”

“Seems like we both have woes.”

“Yes, we do.”

“As do most of the women around here with men in the fight. Nicholas says if the shooting starts before he returns, I should go to Bekkah’s and hide with her in her woodlot. It’s far enough away from the road for us to not be seen. You should think about joining us if Ingram leaves to help the British and you and Peter are alone.”

“He keeps assuring me that the babe and I will come to no harm because we are a Tory household, but I’m not so certain. If there is shooting, I’ll join you over at Bekkah’s as soon as I am able. If the soldiers are using the road, I doubt I’ll be able to make it to Boston and my parents.”

Faith was glad they’d formed a plan but prayed it wouldn’t have to be implemented.

E
ighteen miles away in Concord, Nicholas and over a hundred men were making preparations. Blacksmiths were by their fires pounding bayonets out of white-hot metal while the smoke filled the skies. Donations from colonies up and down the coast were flowing in with everything from food and clothing, to wagons filled with old lead utensils and tools, to a herd of sheep. Everything except the lead was divided up and secreted away for use later. The lead was being melted down and turned into musket balls. Nicholas was on pouring detail, a task that involved ladling out the hot melted lead and pouring it into molds for musket balls. Once the metal cooled again, the balls of lead would harden and be given to the minutemen to use in their guns. Problem was, not only were the muskets so inaccurate as to be virtually useless in a battle situation, but not all the molds in use were of the same size. Some balls were larger than others, and some, depending on the quality of the lead, were not uniform in their density, which would only add to the ineffectiveness of the muskets, but it was all the minutemen had, so they worked feverishly in order to make enough.

Most of the men he was working with were from Concord and its surrounding towns but men from the Boston area were in attendance, too. Arte and his contingent were moving a cannon the last time he’d seen him. Nick had also seen a few of the men of color he’d helped train for Prince Hall. While he hoisted yet another steaming ladle of lead and dribbled it slowly into each round cup, the air rang with the sounds of the smithy’s pounding, feet marching and drilling, and the comings and goings of messengers and other men on horseback. It was orderly chaos. They were in the field of one of the local farmers, and men were swarming over the place like ants, but were focused on one purpose, freeing themselves of the British.

When his shift was over, the weary Nicholas handed his heavy apron to the man who’d come to relieve him. Barrels of fresh water had been set about, so he ladled himself enough to quench his dry throat and walked over to trees where his bedding lay to try and get some rest. The chaotic atmosphere, coupled with the not knowing if Gage’s men were on their way, made it next to impossible to sleep, even for a short while. However, Nick closed his eyes, and Faith’s face shimmered into his mind. He wondered how she was faring and if she missed him as much as he was missing her. If he couldn’t handle being away from her for a few days, he had no idea how he’d make it through when the war came, and it was coming. Being here and working so hard had cooled his anger a great deal. Instead of it consuming him as it had been immediately after he tossed Kingston out of the house, it was now only a simmer. Although he still wanted the man’s head, Kingston was the father of the woman he loved, and killing him would affect his marriage no matter Faith’s anger at her father and his deeds. Nick wasn’t used to bridling his anger. He was more accustomed to handling his emotions on his own terms because there’d never been anyone in his life who cared enough about him to do it any other way. No one had ever wanted to help shoulder his burdens. To open himself up and show someone the depths of what he had inside was foreign. Being with Faith seemed to be altering that. However, now that he’d found her, married her, and fallen in love with her and found the answer to the questions surrounding his own father’s arrest and death, could he find peace?

He thought back on her confession that she’d been Lady Midnight. He still found that amazing. She had pulled the wool over the eyes of nearly everyone in the community. What was a man supposed to do with a woman like that? It never occurred to him that the stooped, gravel-voiced lady in black who’d visited him that night was the daughter of one of the area’s staunchest Tories. Her father would probably keel over were he to learn the truth; first her marriage into the family of his nemesis, and now the revelation that she was working with the rebels against the crown would send him blithering to the nearest lunatic asylum. Nick allowed himself a tired smile. He needed to return to her because she was the peace he’d been searching for. As he drifted off into the twilight just before sleep, he vowed to ride back as soon as he could.

F
aith spent the bulk of the next few days peddling her bread up and down the road but did not meet with much success. Of the twelve loaves she’d made she was returning home with eight. Many of the owners of the inns and taverns that she stopped in declined because they were already purchasing their bread from someone else. One owner did buy four loaves because he was running low and his regular baker had taken ill. He promised her that if his patrons liked the bread, he’d consider buying more on a regular basis, but he wasn’t ready to commit just yet, and Faith had to be content with that. She’d avoided places that were known Tory gathering spots because she didn’t have the requisite permits. Registering for a permit also meant her profits would be subjected to crown taxes and she had no intention of adding to the British coffers.

Frustrated by the lukewarm results but still determined to sell the remaining loaves, she’d driven all the way to Lexington, an eleven-mile journey, and now heading home on the eleven-mile return trip, she was so weary she could barely keep her seat on the wagon’s bench. She had never driven such a long distance before or had to handle a animal who was not her own. He belonged to Nicholas. His name was Barney, and she spent most of the time trying to keep him under control. It was obvious that he was more accustomed to the strength of a man’s hand, because he kept trying to gallop away at full speed, a pace that would crash the wagon and possibly throw her from the seat. Her arms were stiff from pulling back on the reins for so many miles, and the burning in her shoulders matched the fire feeding on her spine and lower back. More than anything she wanted to stop and let someone else drive but there was no someone else. It was up to her to hold on to the reins and make the balky horse take her home.

When the house finally came into view, she wanted to weep with relief. Her leaden arms were so numb and heavy, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move them when the time came to drop the reins. She made a mental note to work up to driving longer distances so that she could increase her stamina for the future.

Moving as if she was made of wood, she managed to get the wagon unhitched and the horse in the barn. Shooting daggers Barney’s way, she took care of his needs, then slowly trudged up to the house and entered by the back door. Her steps took her into the kitchen, where she stopped to bank the fire and add more wood. She then retrieved two large buckets and went back outdoors to the pump. She planned on taking a long, hot soak in the bathing tub. In a perfect world, Nicholas would be there to pump and then heat the water while she went up to her room to fall across her bed until he called and said everything was ready. It wasn’t a perfect world, however, and she also wondered just when she’d become so pampered that pumping her own water had become something to whine about.

While the water heated atop the fire in the bathing room, she did indeed go and lie down across the bed. Too weary to move, she lay there and took in a deep breath.
Finally.
A knock sounded at the door, and she found herself growling at the inconvenient intrusion as Nicholas might have done. The knock sounded again, so she dragged herself up to see who it might be.

She opened the door to find Elizabeth Sutter, or more correctly Elizabeth Sutter Kingston, standing on the other side. Either way, it was the last person Faith expected to or wanted to see. “May I help you?”

“It’s your father.”

“What of him?”

“May I come in?”

Faith studied the seventeen-year-old for a moment, taking in the perfectly painted face, the costly cape and black velvet slippers. She was fair enough to pass for White. According to the rumors, her older sister, Ellen, had indeed crossed over and was now the wife of a prominent tanner down in New Bedford. Both Sutter girls were fabled beauties but between them couldn’t read a word.

“I’m very tired, Elizabeth, is this something that can wait until tomorrow?”

The dark eyes flashed anger for a second before she masked it. “I’m afraid not.”

An unhappy Faith stepped aside to let her enter. “Let’s go into the parlor.”

As they both took seats, Elizabeth silently studied the portrait of Adeline. “Is that her? The woman who betrayed Stuart?”

“She is Nicholas’s mother, if that’s your meaning. We have only my father’s side of the tale.”

“He’s been ranting about her for days.”

Faith stayed silent.

“He’s also becoming increasingly difficult to manage.”

Faith thought her choice of the word
manage
an interesting one. “He’s always been difficult to live with.”

“More so than normal. He yells and threatens if his breakfast is not done on time, or if the table is not set correctly. He seems to think that in comparison to you I am lacking in all things.”

Faith waited.