Authors: Linda Daly
“You made Gwendolyn very happy in her last years Felicity. In fact,
you’ve made so many happy.”
“Oh Rupert, how kind of you to say, but somehow I don’t feel as if I’ve
been able to make anyone happy these days. Least of all Benjamin or
myself.”
As he glanced at his cousin, Rupert desperately wanted to ease her
burden. Having already discussed with her on numerous occasions after
Felicity had discovered she was pregnant and that there was no chance the
child she was carrying could be Benjamin’s, it had been extremely hard for
Felicity to admit that the two of them had not been intimate for weeks
before the attack, with Benjamin in Washington. And then following the
attack, although Benjamin had been affectionate and attentive, he had
respectfully never come to her, sensing she wasn’t ready.
Once discovering she was pregnant with another man’s child, Felicity
couldn’t allow herself to be intimate with Benjamin. Feeling unclean and
that her body had betrayed their marriage in the most perverse way
conceivable, she found it even difficult to allow Benjamin to hold her, for
she was too ashamed. This all resulted in Felicity punishing herself from
being loved by the man she desperately needed.
“Dear Felicity, from early on in our relationship, the one thing I valued
most was our ability to discuss whatever was on our minds. And now, more
than ever, I would like to speak from my heart.”
Sighing, fearing that Rupert wanted to speak of the child she carried
and her lack of enthusiasm, she said, “Oh Rupert, if this is another
discussion about the baby and how I’m dealing with carrying James
Sterling spawn . . . .”
“That is precisely what I’m worried about. That child growing in you is
not just James’ child, but he or she is yours, too. Now I’ve respected your
wishes by not discussing with Benjamin yours and his relationship, but
surely, you know he realizes the child isn’t his, especially after he saw what
happened the night Annabelle found you. I’m not proud of the way I
behaved that evening, but Felicity, by you refusing to discuss that night
with Benjamin, or the child you are having, the distance between you is
growing. Why I can’t recall the last time I saw you and he have any
physical contact with one another.”
“Please Rupert, don’t you think I know that? But I cannot bring myself
to allow him to touch me. I feel so dirty and cheap. And I certainly cannot
discuss the attack, not after all this time--especially now that my nightmare
of that night lives on as everyday this child grows inside me. Every time I
feel it kicking me . . . I think of how it was conceived and I cringe.”
“I can’t imagine the pain you carry in your heart. Yet, I would be amiss
if I didn’t point out to you Felicity, the prison you have forced yourself and
Benjamin to live in, is of your own doing. Your husband loves you and
loathes himself for not protecting you. And don’t tell me you haven’t
noticed. He’s a lost man without his faith. A preacher without God in his
heart is a shell of a man, and only you Felicity, can release him and the
bondage you have placed each other in.
“It is obvious to me that Benjamin thinks of this child as only yours,
loving you has he does. Has it not been he who has prepared for the birth
of your child? Which is admirable, but knowing Benjamin as I do, I
wouldn’t expect anything less of such a fine and good man.
“I implore you Felicity, please think of your love for Benjamin. He
may not be the man who created your child--that much is true--but if you
allow him to be, he will be your child’s father. And no better father could
that babe ever have. You and only you are keeping Benjamin out of your
life. And far more will be lost then what has already taken place on that
dreadful night. The love you and Benjamin shared will be lost too.”
Felicity, in tears, sat starring out into the garden and Rupert kissed her
forehead. “Sit among your dear aunt’s garden, my dear, and please think of
what your aunt sacrificed to bring you two wonderful people together.
Surely, if your love was able to endure all that you and Benjamin went
through to be joined together, your love can get beyond this as well.”
Returning to the home of her grandmother’s family which had been
boarded up for decades until Felicity and Benjamin had returned to
England, she looked about for any sign of Benjamin. Seeing a light in the
carriage house, Felicity made her way over the meadows and watched her
husband from the doorway. Her heart filled with love for this kind-hearted
man who knelt on the ground as he painstakingly sanded what appeared to
be a cradle and tears welled up in her eyes.
After several minutes of watching him, and thinking about what Rupert
had told her earlier, she softly said, “Hello darling, what are you making?”
“Felicity, my love. I didn’t hear you arrive.” Standing up in front of the
wooden cradle, shielding it from her, Benjamin said, “Just a little
something for the babe. I had hoped to surprise you.”
Noting that Benjamin referred to the child, as he always did, she said,
“You did. I’ve a confession to make. I’ve been standing here watching you
for sometime. Why didn’t you tell me you were making the baby’s cradle?”
“And spoil the surprise?” Benjamin smiled lovingly at her.
Missing his smile, Felicity, not remembering the last time either of
them smiled, asked, “Benjamin, will you do me a favor, darling?”
“Anything, my love.”
“Will you please come and hold me.”
Immediately, Benjamin brushed off the wood dust from his hands and
his coat, and came to Felicity. Tenderly he placed his arms around her and
feeling her tremble, held her closer to him. It had been weeks since she had
seemed remotely interested in him and feeling her next to him now,
Benjamin closed his eyes, taking in her scent.
Pleadingly Felicity looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “My dear
Ben, do you know how much I love you? And how lucky I feel knowing
what a wonderful father you will be to my baby?”
“Oh Felicity . . .” His words garbled, as he held her close. “I love you.
Can you ever forgive me?”
Glancing at him and brushing his face, seeing specks of wood shavings
in his beard, she placed her finger to his lips and softly said, “There is
nothing to forgive. You are my husband and I have selfishly locked you out
of my heart when I needed you the most, and you have needed me. Can we
please darling, put the past behind us, never speaking of the pain we’ve
caused each other and please just let our love for one another build a future
together?”
Kissing her fingers and paying extra attention to her thumb, he kissed it
tenderly just as he had done the night he had proposed to her. Overcome
with emotion, Felicity grasped onto Benjamin’s neck. “Oh darling, I love
you so.”
Feeling the baby kick inside her, she pulled slightly from Benjamin and
taking his hand in hers, brought it to her stomach.
“Little one, this is your father. The most wonderful man I have ever
known.”
Benjamin, being allowed to feel the life growing in his wife’s womb
had long ago stopped thinking of the child as James Sterling’s, but only as
Felicity’s and a tear ran down his cheek. “Oh Felicity, I swear to you, I will
be the best father I can for the child God has finally blessed you with. Our
child.”
Hearing his wife scream out in pain again, Gilbert jumped up from his
seat and looked at Chester, Lucas Brown’s elderly former slave. “Christ
almighty, what’s takin’ them so long?”
“Sit on down there, Mas’sa Gilbert. They be back with the doc when
they be back, and all the pacing around you doin’ ain’t gonna bring them
here none the faster. Tess and Bessie is in there with yer missus, and she’ll
be just fine. Reminds me of the night, Miz Catherine had our little
Miranda. Mas’sa Lucas, he nearly wore out the rug just like you are now.”
From upstairs came the sounds of Miranda’s screams once again,
followed this time by Bessie calling out to her, “Push honey child, you can
do it! Come on Miranda girl, let your Bessie see her babe.”
Gilbert jumped from his seat and began climbing the stairs leading to
their bedroom, pausing upon hearing Chester calling to him. “Now Mas’sa
Gilbert, you ‘no they ain’t gonna let you in there till they good and ready.
So come on back down here.”
Wringing his hands through his hair, Gilbert looked anxiously at
Chester. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I can’t just do nothin’ when my Mandy
needs me.”
“Miz Miranda’s got her Bessie and Tess with her. Ain’t no need for you
to see her likes that. Now come sit back down before ya makes me get on
up out of this here chair and come and make ya. I ain’t about to get Bessie
riled at me.”
Smiling wearily at the older man who could barely walk, Gilbert did as
he asked. Hearing his wife cry out again, he swore, “Damn it, Lucas, where
in the hell are ya?”
Not more than three miles from their home, Lucas, along with Michael,
Montgomery, and Doc Watson were fighting for their lives surrounded by
men on horse back with white hooded sheets carrying torches and guns.
Michael recognizing the voice of the man hollering up at Montgomery,
shouted, “Thomas, is that you? Christ, what in the hell is wrong with you?”
The man Michael was directing his attention too, still mounted on his
horse, with a whip in his hand, dressed in a white hooded sheet, looked
down at him and Lucas who stood alongside the carriage. “Get on back
inside that fancy coach of yours Honeycutt, or you’ll die alongside this
here bastard.”
Without warning, the hooded man cracked his whip, striking
Montgomery across the neck and face, causing the injured man to yelp out
in pain. Just then the other men circled the buckboard yelling and grouping
at him until one managed to get Montgomery off balance and he fell to the
ground.
At once, Michael ran to protect Montgomery, shielding him with his
body. “Get out of here Thomas. This man has caused you no harm.”
Hearing a gun hammer cock, and looking up at the man Michael
believed was the man he had hired to oversee his wife’s home following
the war, Michael calmly said, “Is this the way you repay my kindness,
Thomas?”
“I have no beef with you Honeycutt, it’s him we want.”
Another man yelled, “Shoot ‘m both, Thomas. He ain’t nothing but
some Yank anyway!”
“Shut up!” And with that, Thomas’ horse reared up and the other man,
already aiming his gun, shot his pistol, hitting Michael in the shoulder.
Seeing his friend being shot, Lucas, taking his cane, began striking at the
hooded men that were approaching him, and in the scuffle Lucas took a
bullet in the stomach.
Doc Watson, who had been inside the coach until that time, and
hearing other horses approaching, stepped out of the coach with gun in
hand and yelled, “Get out of here, Thomas Hastings! War hero or not, so
help me God I’ll shoot you down as sure as I’m standing here.”
Taking aim at the doctor who had treated him for his wounds after he
had been ambushed during the war, and those of his injured men, Thomas
yelled, “Get on back inside the coach, George. Let me and my men do
what we gotta do.”
“No. Damn it!” George Watson yelled. “There’s been enough
bloodshed.” Seeing Thomas point his revolver back toward Michael and
Montgomery, taking aim, the doctor who had saved so many lives in his
career shot Thomas in the head and he immediately fell from his saddle.
With Thomas’ slain body covered in a white sheet, now dripping in his
own blood, lying on the dirt road, and with another buggy approaching, the
other hooded men rode off into the dark of night, yelling they’d be back.
George Watson, still holding the revolver that had taken a life, stood staring
at the hooded man he had once saved from multiple gunshot wounds in
stunned disbelief.
Jumping from Montgomery’s body, Michael went to Lucas who was
leaning against his carriage, grasping at his stomach. “Get me to Miranda,
old friend. I’ve got to see my grandson before I die,” Lucas gasped,
obviously in great pain.
With the other buggy approaching, Michael with the aid of George,
who had since dropped his revolver, helped Lucas back inside the carriage.
Glancing at Montgomery, Michael said, “Are you okay to drive?”
“Yes, sir.” Boarding the buckboard and hearing George Watson say
he’d stay there with Thomas’ body until authorities could be alerted,
Montgomery cracked the whip and the carriage raced back to the
O’Flaherty’s newly constructed plantation.
Back at the O’Flaherty’s, Gilbert knelt beside the bed of his wife,
lovingly kissing her forehead and gazing down at their son.
“Oh Mandy, he’s beautiful . . . like his mother.”
Smiling, she said, “Handsome, darling. And I think he looks like his
papa.”
“I told you he was a boy.”
Hearing the sounds of horses and Michael’s voice calling for Bessie
and Tess, Gilbert stood and asked Miranda, “Darling, can I take our son to
introduce him to his grandfather?”
“Yes. That would be nice. I need some rest anyway. Please darling, tell
Papa the name we’ve chosen.”
Nodding, Gilbert tenderly took his son in his arms and kissing his wife
affectionately, spoke lovingly to the baby, who looked up at him sucking
on his fist.
“Hello there little man, what a strapping fine lad ya are.”
Walking slowly from the bedroom and down the hallway, Gilbert’s
happiness soon faded upon seeing Lucas, bleeding, slumped over and being
led into the parlor by Michael and Tess. Tucking his son closer to his chest,
Gilbert descended the steps and walked into the parlor, asking, “What the
hell has happened?” Fear gripped at his heart seeing the man he had grown
to love who was bleeding profusely from his midriff.
Lucas glanced up at Gilbert and seeing him with a child in his arms,
whispered, “Son, come closer and let me see my grandchild.”
The blood draining from his face, Gilbert stunned, obediently walked
over to Lucas and knelt beside the pale man who was gasping for air, and
said, “Da, meet your grandson, Lucas Joseph O’Flaherty.”
Hearing Gilbert call the baby in his arms by his name, his eyes welled
up and he gazed lovingly at the small child. Lucas said in a raspy voice,
“Thank you, Gilbert for naming him after me. You’re a good man, better
than I deserve. You make damn sure he grows up to be like the fine man his
father is and not after his namesake, hear?”
Gilbert nodding, asked Lucas if he wanted to hold him and Lucas
whispered, “No son, just seeing him was all I needed. Now you take good
care of him and my daughter. And tell them both I love them.”
Glancing at his grandson, Lucas breathed his last breath. Seeing his
head slump over, Bessie fell to her knees wailing, “Oh Mas’sa Lucas.”
Chester, consoling his wife, patting her shoulders listened to Gilbert as
he said, “Please everyone, me Mandy girl has just given birth to our son
and is restin’ upstairs. She doesn’t know she’s just lost her father. Please,
don’t let her find out this way.”
Bringing his child closer to his heart, he looked at Michael standing
solemnly at the doorway. “Mr. Honeycutt, will you kindly take care of
things down here while I go to my wife and tell her?”
“Certainly, Gilbert.”
As Gilbert climbed the stairs leading to his bedroom, holding his son
near to him, tears rolled down his cheeks. Feeling little Lucas stir in his
arms, he whispered, “That was Grandda, son. He loved ya very much. God
rest his soul.”
Moments later, after Gilbert entered the room where his wife lay
resting from just giving birth, the chilling scream of grief rang out from
behind the closed doors, followed by the soft cries of Lucas Joseph
O’Flaherty.