Shattered Moments (28 page)

It was several hours before Genevieve could finally make her excuses and hole up in the tiny room she shared with Minnie.  The house was unusually quiet after the news of Cameron’s escape broke, the children ordered to stay indoors and out of the way of the search party.  Lady Sheridan was downstairs, but Lord Sheridan had gone down to the barracks where men were gathering in the yard, arming themselves with torches and ropes before heading off in search of Cameron.  According to Mr. Worthing, he hadn’t turned up in Jamestown, so the search party was heading into the woods around the plantation and along the shore of the James, just in case Cameron was following the river. 

The barracks were too far away from the house, but Genevieve could swear she heard the barking of dogs and the neighing of horses as the men prepared to leave, eager to hunt their prey.  Even though most of the search party was made up of other indentured servants, they wanted to prove that they were loyal and deserved to be treated fairly, not punished for the actions of one man.  Cameron’s escape could affect all of them adversely, and they were scared.  If he got away, the master might feel compelled to implement stricter rules and take away their little freedoms.  The men were angry and determined, and it scared Genevieve, for God knows what they would do to Cameron once they found him.

Genevieve huddled in a corner, her aching head resting against her knees, arms wrapped around her legs.  She’d been so happy yesterday when Lord Sheridan had been freed, but now she felt as if her world was falling apart.  Where was Cameron, and why had he suddenly run away?  Or maybe it wasn’t sudden, and he’d been planning this all along.  He gave no indication that he was planning an escape, but he was a man who was in control of his feelings, and could have easily fooled Genevieve into thinking that everything was as it should be when his mind was whirring with plans and possibilities.  Of course, had he been planning his escape, he might have asked Genevieve to bring him some food or something he could trade, but he asked for nothing. 

Had
something happened to set him off?  Had he been mistreated by Worthing or Barnes?  The men were forbidden to beat the workers or deny them food, but if Cameron had done something they considered unforgivable they might try to punish him on the sly while her uncle was away, and Lord Sheridan imprisoned.  If caught, he could be punished to the full extent of the law, and although she couldn’t imagine that Lord Sheridan would have him flogged, or worse, she was still scared to death. 

Did he have a plan or was this something he did on the spur of the moment, suddenly unable to bear another day of servitude?  And what about her?  Had she meant absolutely nothing to him?  Had he used her to assuage some of his loneliness and anger, never meaning for their relationship to be anything more than a quick roll in the hay, or in their case a dip in the lake?
  They’d made love a few more times since that first time, and Genevieve suddenly froze with terror, realizing that even at that very moment Cameron’s baby could be growing in her womb.  Oh God, what would she tell her uncle?  What would he do if she found herself with child?  Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t throw her out, but he would assume that Cameron forced himself on her, and that simply wasn’t the case.  He’d be branded a rapist and sentenced to death if caught, and it would all be her fault.

Hot tears streamed down Genevieve’s face as she angrily wiped them away.  What a fool she had been to allow herself to love him. 
How well did she even know the man?  Everything he told her could have been lies, made up for her benefit.  Perhaps he was guilty of the crime he had been accused of, and worse.  But even if that were true, she’d been the one who pursued him, who approached him.  He’d never initiated anything, so she couldn’t blame him for misleading her.  He never had.

Genevieve wiped the tears with her sleeve, suddenly ashamed of herself.  If Cameron ran away, he must have had a good reason, and she should be worried about him rather than assuming the worst and accusing him of
everything under the sun.  She might not have much experience when it came to men, but she knew when someone was genuine.  She’d seen enough falseness in her life to know when someone’s soul was in torment and reaching out to her, rather than just looking for a possible advantage.   Deep down, she knew that Cameron Brody was an honorable man, no matter what he’d been accused of, and she would support him in her heart and pray for him.

Genevieve remained seated in the corner long after the sun went down
, and the last glimmer of light faded from the room, plunging it into inky darkness.  The house quieted down as Lady Sheridan retired to her room, overwrought by the events of the day, and the children were shepherded to the nursery by Minnie, who recognized Genevieve’s need to be alone, and gave her silent support.  They’d never spoken of Cameron, but Minnie was no fool; she knew that Genevieve wasn’t indifferent to the big Scot and often met him after dark.  Lord Sheridan still hadn’t returned, which was either a reason to hope, or a reason to feel dread.

Genevieve raised her head in trepidation as she heard the calls of the men as they
galloped into the yard, the night suddenly illuminated by a dozen torches and filled with the sound of angry men and neighing horses.  Genevieve sprang to her feet, peering into the yard to see if they might have Cameron with them.  The men were talking loudly, speculating as to where Cameron might have gone, their shoulders slumped with fatigue and their voices laced with irritation.  They’d been out there for hours, but they hadn’t found him.  Genevieve sighed in relief as she sank to her knees, clasping her hands before her in prayer.  If Cameron didn’t want to be found, then she hoped they’d never find him.  She would be happy in the knowledge that he got away and possibly made it back to his homeland and his people. 

Having finished praying, Genevieve finally began to get ready for bed.  She was exhausted
, mentally and physically, and needed to rest.  She removed her bodice, skirt, and stockings and pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders.  The fresh breeze from the window caressed her bare arms and legs as she climbed into bed wearing only her shift.  She closed her eyes, images of her and Cameron swimming before her eyes as hot tears slid down her cheeks and into her hair. She wished she could sleep, but she was wide awake, her misery so acute that it made her heart hurt. Genevieve closed her eyes and feigned sleep as she heard Minnie outside the door.   She couldn’t bear to talk to her or anyone else until she had a chance to compose herself and put on an indifferent face, so no one would suspect how much she was really hurting.

Minnie quietly let herself into the room and closed the door softly
, her dark silhouette outlined against the lighter color of the wall.  She hesitated for a moment, but then   Genevieve felt the thin mattress give under Minnie’s weight as she sat down and took Genevieve’s hand.  “Jenny, wake up,” she whispered.

Genevieve forced
herself to open her eyes.  Minnie was quiet as a mouse when she wanted to be, so it was odd that she would wake Genevieve on purpose.  “What is it, Minnie?”

“I found something when I was putting the children to bed,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming in the darkness.  “It was in the pocket of Evie’s skirt.  I aske
d Evie, and she said a man gave it to her.” 

Genevieve sat bol
t upright, suddenly no longer lethargic.  “Let me see.”  The square of paper was creased and dirty, but one word was written in what looked like mud.  “Cave.” 

“Does that mean anything to you?” Minnie asked, her face alight with curiosity.  “Is it from him?”

Genevieve just stared down at the paper.  Cameron might have a piece of paper, but he would have no access to ink or a quill.  Writing with a muddy stick would be the closest he could get.  Perhaps he saw Evie by the pond and gave her a message, knowing that, as a child, she’d think nothing of it.  Evie didn’t know how to write, so couldn’t have written the message herself, so it stood to reason that it might be from Cameron.  Genevieve took Minnie’s hand and squeezed it in gratitude.

“I think it might be from Cameron.  I told him about the cave with the waterfall where
Cousin Finn used to go.  I’d been there with Uncle Alec, and described to Cameron exactly where it was.  I’ll go there tomorrow.”  Genevieve was already planning what she would take with her, and how long it would take for her to walk if she left at dawn.  Her heart contracted with fear that Cameron might be gone by the time she got there, but she had to wait till morning.  Besides, the estate was swarming with men; she’d be stopped as soon as she left the house, and all kinds of questions would be asked about her relationship with the escaped man.

“You should wait a day or two,” Minnie whispered.  “They’re
searching for him all over, and it might look odd if you suddenly disappear.  The cave is hours away, and it would take you the whole day to go there and back.  It’s not safe.”

Genevieve considered what Minnie was saying, acknowledging the wisdom of her reasoning.  “Minnie, you’re right, but he might not wait more than a day.  If I don’t show up, he might leave
, and I’ll never see him again.  This is my one chance.  Will you cover for me?  Just tell them I’m indisposed.  I’ll leave before the sun comes up, so by the time anyone might notice that I’m not in my bed, I’ll be long gone.  Please, Minnie, please.”

Minnie just nodded.  “I’d rather not lie to her ladyship, but I suppose you owe it to yourse
lf to find out.  I’ll tell them you’re not feeling well as it’s your time of the month.  Lady Sheridan is always sympathetic.  She’ll leave you alone as long as I promise to bring you some food and a hot-water bottle.  It might work.  What will you do if you find him?”  Minnie’s eyes were large in the darkness of the room, the light of the moon reflected in her irises.  She wasn’t a very pretty girl, but in the moonlight she looked beautiful, especially when she smiled.

“I don’t know.  I just want to talk to him and make sure he’s safe.  I’ll bring him some food
, and maybe give him my emerald ring.  He can trade it for food or passage home.  I don’t have much else to give him.” 

“How will you explain the missing ring?  Wasn’t it your
mam’s?  Your uncle will be that upset.  He’d kept it all those years as a reminder of his sister,” Minnie whispered as she watched Genevieve’s face.

“I’ll just tell him that I lost it and bear the brunt of his anger.  What else can I do?  I want to help Cameron, and that’s the only way I can do that.  Besides,
I want to say goodbye.”  Minnie just nodded, squeezing her hand as Genevieve began to cry softly again. 

September 1779

Virginia

Abbie cuddled closer to Finn, his body warm and solid next to hers.  He’d finally returned last night, tired, but happy to be home, especially after his run-in with Major Weland.  Everyone had a good laugh over Finn’s account of getting out of Savannah dressed as a woman, but things could have turned out very differently and they were all acutely aware of that.  Diana was strangely quiet as Finn recounted his journey, especially during the part where Finn mentioned that he had gone to see Jonah.  She fidgeted in her seat, stealing looks at Finn from under her lashes.  Abbie supposed it was natural for her to be worried about Jonah’s reaction.  After all, he had no idea he had a son until Finn showed up.  Finn was strangely reluctant to go into any details of his conversation with Jonah, but he didn’t say that Jonah had been shocked or displeased.  It would likely take some time for her brother to absorb the fact that he was now a father. 

Abbie closed her eyes, eager for a few more minutes of sleep when she heard fussing coming from the direction of Diana’s
cot.  “Go back to sleep,” Abbie moaned as she forced herself out of bed.  Abbie brushed the hair out of her face and bent over the cot, ready to lift Diana out, only to find her still sound asleep.  Maybe she’d been fussing in her sleep.  It seemed pointless to wake her up, so Abbie turned back toward the bed.  She could steal a few more peaceful moments, but she was stopped in her tracks by low mewling.  She glanced back at Diana, but her face was relaxed in sleep, her little hands raised above her head as if she were surrendering.  Strange. 

Abbie suddenly noticed something out of the corner of her eye. 
A dark bundle was just visible behind the cot, the sounds coming from there.  She walked over, squatting down to get a better look.  A pair of eyes stared back at her, lips trembling as Nat considered whether he should cry now or hold off for a little.  He was tightly wrapped in the blanket, his arms forced against his sides and his legs straight out.  The blanket was tied with a string to prevent him from unwrapping himself.  Abbie supposed Diana was afraid that Nat would throw off the blanket and try to get down the stairs, which he wasn’t yet able to navigate.  If he managed to get to the ladder, he’d fall down to the ground floor and possibly kill himself. 

Abbie huffed with outrage as she reached for the child and untied the string. 
A strong smell of urine came off his gown as Abbie undid the wrapping.  He must have wet himself hours ago since his clout was soaked through.  Poor lad, he must be hungry as well as wet.  Where was Diana?  And what he hell had she been thinking leaving him like that on the floor and tied up like mummy?  Abbie smiled at the comparison.  She’s seen a picture of a mummy in one of Finn’s books and thought it was the oddest thing she’d ever seen.  Who’d want to do that to a person?  Thank God she wasn’t an Egyptian. 

Abbie put exotic cultures out of her mind as she
carefully made her way down the stairs in search of Diana.  She normally slept with Annie and Sarah, but her bed was empty; the blanket pushed aside when she got up. 
She might have gone to the privy
, Abbie thought before stopping in the middle of the room,
but why would Diana leave Nat upstairs when he normally slept with her?
  Sarah and Annie were still asleep in their bed, so they’d be no help at all, and her parents were in the other room, their breathing clearly audible in the somnolent silence. 

Nat
began fussing again.  His face was a pale oval in the darkness, and his mouth looked like a black hole when he opened it to cry.  When was the last time he’d been fed?  He was obviously hungry.  Abbie quickly changed his clout and took him into the main room, where she poured some milk from a pewter pitcher and crumbled a piece of bread into the milk until it was a soupy mush.  Nat practically inhaled the food, opening his mouth before she even filled the spoon.  Poor child, he was starving.   

“What are you doing?” Hannah Mallory asked as she shuffled into the front room, wearing a shawl over her nightdress and a
linen cap over her unbound hair.  She pulled the shawl closer, taking in the sight of Nat being fed by Abbie. 

“I found
him in the loft behind Diana’s cot.  He was bound and tied, as well as hungry and wet,” Abbie explained angrily.  “And I don’t see Diana anywhere.”

“She must have gone to the necessary,” Hannah said, taking up a poker to stoke the smoldering ashes back into life
, “but that certainly doesn’t explain the rest of it.  Here, let me have him, and you go see to your own child.  I think she’s awake.” 

Abbie handed the boy to her mother and rose wearily to her feet.  “Thanks, Ma.  I’ll been down in a bit to help you get breakfast started.”

“Don’t trouble yourself about breakfast.  Bring Diana down and see to your husband,” Hannah said with a wicked wink.  “He looked awfully forlorn last night.”

“Ma!” Abbie hissed, trying to hide her smile, but Hannah was already
adding more bread to the milk and humming softly to Nat.