Come Be My Love (28 page)

She blotted her eyes. She'd put thoughts of him from her mind. Yes, she would. After all, he embraced the traditional male attitude about a woman's place, which undoubtedly applied to his mistress as well. And she couldn't live with that.

Yes... yes she could. And that was the honest truth.

She could live with it. It wasn't his traditional male attitude that stopped her. The truth was, she couldn't bare to raise a child who could one day be accused of being just another bastard who didn't know its father. Although Jon said he'd care for any child of their union, that wasn't enough. Her own mother must have believed that the man she'd given herself to would stay by her. But he hadn't. He'd simply turned his back on her and his daughter and walked out of their lives. And, if a younger, more beautiful woman one day walked into Jon's life, there was no assurance that he might not do the same. Although they'd shared one night of love, that didn't change the facts. She was just a woman he wanted for his mistress. Nothing more.

***

Jon snapped the buggy whip smartly over the mare's rump, urging her on, anxious to get back to Sarah. She'd been on his mind constantly while he was in New Westminster, and he wanted her. The buggy rattled and bumped over the uneven road, a road that would soon be macadamized. Which should make the Crown take note.

This last trip to New Westminster verified his hunch. While the city fathers boasted funds in accounts, the city's ditches overflowed with drainage from cesspools, streams of soapy water ran from the public bath houses into the unpaved streets, and the whole place reeked of rotting fish, pent-up pigs, and carrion from the slaughterhouses. But while Victoria's accounts might fall significantly short of the glorified and somewhat padded accounts of New Westminster, Victoria's streets were being macadamized, gaslights were operating, a free common school had been established, and all butcher shops, tanneries, and slaughterhouses were located outside the city limits. Soon, even an observatory was to be constructed.

If union was advised, and the Crown representatives took all of these civil improvements into consideration when reviewing the ledgers, there was no question which city was better suited to become capital of the province, or which governor should head the expanded colony.

What a life! His political position was sound, his daughters were safely confined to their rooms, and a beautiful, fascinating, and intelligent woman was waiting eagerly for him.
Godamercy
! How he wanted that woman. He snapped the whip again. The mare extended its strides, kicking up billows of dust and leaving a brown cloud scudding behind. Ah... to feel Sarah in his arms, her eager lips on his…
 
The thought was driving him wild.

He snapped the whip again. The mare was trotting as if she were on a Sunday outing. Rounding the bend, he caught sight of the cottage. Pulling the mare to a halt, he lunged from the buggy, tied up the mare, rushed onto the porch swept open the door, then froze when he found Sarah bent over a trunk... packing!

Her sewing machines were gone, the tables dismantled, and three trunks appeared to be packed. She looked at him, said nothing, and continued packing without so much as a greeting. This was definitely not the welcome he'd expected. Obviously, she had not been waiting breathlessly to be in his arms. "Did you locate a building?" he asked.

"No,” she replied. “I'm moving to New Westminster." She continued to pack the trunk, not so much as looking at him.

"What do you mean... you're moving?"

"Just what I said. You and everyone else around here have made it impossible for me to remain in Victoria, so I'm moving to New Westminster where I can make a fresh start."

"Something happened while I was away. What was it?"

"Nothing happened except that I had a week to think about things, about us, and about what I want. And I want to leave Victoria. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must keep packing as I have booked passage on the
Eliza Anderson
for tomorrow afternoon." Sarah started around him.

Jon shot out a hand and took her arm. "You can't just walk away from me. I won't let you."

"There's nothing you can do to stop me," Sarah said.

"Oh, yes, there is." Jon pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his. But before the kiss could deepen, Sarah jerked her head to one side. He attempted to hold her and capture her mouth again, but she forced her arms between them, shoving against his chest.

 
"Stop it, Jon!" she cried. "I don't want this! The fact that we’ve indulged in a few weeks of dallying does not mean you own me." Yanking herself free, she dashed into the bedroom and slammed the door.

"Dallying! Is that all this has been to you?" Jon burst open the door and glared at her.

"I don't know why you seem so surprised," Sarah said, cradling a stack of fabric to her chest. "I never led you to believe it was anything else. Nor do I want to be your mistress." She brushed past him, knelt down and continued packing.

"I don't believe you can just dismiss what we have."

"I'm not dismissing it," Sarah said. "I'll always cherish it. But I made no promises and nothing has changed. I will see my business become a success, but not in Victoria. And I will maintain my earnings, my independence, and my rights as a human being."

"I don't know how you can be so indifferent." Jon took her arm and dragged her to her feet. "Look at me and tell me you don't want me."

Sarah lifted her chin and said in a firm voice, "I don't want you, Jon. Now please go. I have a steamer to catch and things to pack and you're in the way."

She tried to pull free, but Jon tightened his hand, his fingers digging into her arm. "You're leaving me for a goddamned bloody mercantile business!"

"Let me go. You're hurting me."

Jon's fingers tightened. "It seems your brothers were right. You do have your means of getting what you want, and it's obvious what you wanted from me from the start. After all, as governor, I should be able to pave some ways for you. But you quit too soon. You should have opted for a letter of introduction to give to Governor Seymour when you get to New Westminster. Now there's a thought. Maybe for a quick roll in bed I'd be willing. But then, maybe I wouldn't. I don't relish the idea of having my eyes scratched out by a loose-tailed little hellcat."

Sarah cocked her arm and slapped Jon hard across the face, but he caught her by the wrist before she could. Eyeing him with undisguised fury, she said, "Get out! Get out of my house!"

Jon's eyes blazed. "I'll get out. Sure as hell, I'll get out. But first..." He dragged her into his arms and pressed his mouth on hers, his hand tight against her head so she couldn't break loose. She struggled in his arms and squealed her protest against his unyielding mouth, but the kiss was unrelenting. Then he released her abruptly, and said in a gruff voice, "Goodbye, sweetheart!"

He stormed out of the house, sending the door crashing shut behind him. Yelling a string of expletives, he cracked his whip and sent the buggy rattling away.

It wasn't until then that every nerve in Sarah's body seemed to snap. Tears rolled down her cheeks, her body began to shake uncontrollably, and she felt as if her heart were being crushed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

As she'd done several times before, Sarah peered through the window, half-expecting to see Jon's black-and-green phaeton. She envisioned him sweeping open the door again, but this time he'd force her to admit she'd lied, that she really did want him. And she would admit it. Ever since he'd stormed out she'd been fighting the urge to go to him. But it would be pointless. Nothing had changed. And nothing would. She envisioned Jon's face when she'd told him she didn't want him. At first she’d seen shock, then disbelief, and finally, anger.

She gazed up at a leaden sky churning with dark clouds, a sky that reminded her of the turmoil she'd felt on hearing Jon's cruel words. Horrible, brutal words that made her feel cheap, like the wanton whore Hollis said she was. How long would it take to get over the terrible despair? A year? Two years? In time, she'd come to terms with it. But for now, she felt lost, her life pointless, the world colorless and flat. Closing her eyes, she felt as if she were plummeting into an oblivion where she would drift aimlessly through an eternity alone. Teetering on the brink of tears, she opened her eyes, turned from the window, and determined to snap out of her morose mood. She refused to indulge in any more noisy floods of weeping.

She looked around. She'd hired two boys to load the trunks into the pie wagon, and now the room seemed so bare. No sewing machines or patterns or lengths of fabric. No lacy curtains on the windows. And in less than two hours, she'd sail out of Jon's life.

Mandi promised to visit her. New Westminster was not so far away. She'd told Mandi goodbye the night before, when she'd also explained her decision to move to another city poised on the verge of growth, one where she could see her business become a success. She'd been careful not to reveal to Mandi her true motives for leaving. She couldn't face the shame of telling her that Jon had wanted her only as his mistress.

The sound of horses' hooves sent her rushing to open the door. But instead of seeing Jon, she found a boy about twelve dismounting. He sprinted up the footpath, swept off his hat and held it between nervous fingers, and said, "Miss Ashley?"

"Yes."

"This is for you." He handed her a note.

Sarah unfolded the paper and read the hastily scrawled words:
Miss Ashley, please meet me on
Kaindler's
Wharf at three o'clock. I have several orders for you. D.P

Sarah couldn't remember which of the women on the waterfront was D.P. But since the steamer wasn't leaving until four o'clock, she'd have time to meet briefly with the woman, explain her plans, and obtain the orders, which she’d fill when she was settled in New Westminster. She’d ship the outfits to the woman later. But at least it was a start. She gave the boy some coins and a message to tell the woman she'd be there.

A little before three o'clock, she gathered the last of her belongings, closed up the cottage and headed for the waterfront. She parked the pie wagon near the wharf and looked for the woman, but found only seamen and prospectors. After twenty minutes, the woman had not arrived, and Sarah knew she couldn't wait any longer. She still had to take her trunks to the steamer dock for loading and return the pie wagon to the livery in time to catch the boat. Taking a last look around the waterfront, she headed for her wagon. But as she approached it, something about the situation brought on a vague uneasiness. She also noticed that another wagon was parked directly behind hers, even though there was ample room for parking all along the street.

Feeling uneasy, she mounted the box and reached for the reins. But before she could move, a large hand darted out from behind and covered her mouth, and a powerful arm clamped around her ribs and dragged her backward inside the wagon. She tried to cry out, but the cry was silenced by a blow to the back of her head, followed by the feel of something being poured down her throat. The twist of a gag cinched fast around her mouth stifled her involuntary coughs. Immediately, her ankles were bound and her hands forced behind her back and wrapped. Struggling against the restraints, she was enveloped by a blanket, which was trussed securely around her until she was unable to move. She felt herself being lifted out of the wagon by two pairs of hands. Bucking inside her blanket cocoon, she attempted to scream through the gag, but her muffled sounds died as a sudden dizziness sent her head swirling into darkness...

***

Jon paced the stables like a caged animal. He had a colony to run, but all he could think of was Sarah, how her lips curved in that engaging little smile when she bested him, and the way sparks ignited the impassioned depths of her eyes when she was aroused, and how her arms clung to him when he held her. And she'd simply walked out of his life.

Like Caroline, Sarah swept him off his feet, betrayed him, and walked out of his life. But she hadn't betrayed him for another man. She'd betrayed him for a bloody business. She'd offered no justification for what she was doing. She'd callously repeated words he'd exacted from her... then dismissed him. She didn't want him in her life. And he burned with the desire to possess her body and soul. He'd half-expected her to stop in to see him before the steamer left, to at least express some regret over their angry parting. But she hadn't. Nor had she changed her mind about leaving. He'd returned to the cottage later, only to find it empty.

Yet, things didn't fit. She'd cleared all of the business hurdles set in her path, and he'd even agreed to get her a building, so it didn't seem probable that she was leaving because of her business. Unless something happened while he was away. He eyed Peterson, who seemed just as baffled at Sarah's hasty departure as he. "You must have heard something, Peterson. I'm not accusing you of talking. I just thought maybe you'd have heard something, perhaps from Ida, that came from Mandi. If you know anything, anything at all, I want to hear it."

"No one's said
nothin
', leastways
nothin
' to me. But..." He scratched his chin.

"But what?
Dammit
, man. Talk!"

Peterson shrugged. "It might have
somethin
’ to do with Lady Cromwell
visitin
' Miss Ashley."

"Lady Cromwell?"

"While you was away, Lady Cromwell had me drive her to Miss Ashley’s place."

Jon's eyes narrowed. Hellfire and damnation! His mother. This was her doing. "Thank you, Peterson. I believe you've just given me my answer." He turned from the stables and headed toward the house in long determined strides. Marching into his mother's bedroom, he said, "What the blazes did you say to Sarah to make her leave?"

His mother fussed with her fichu. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The devil you don't!"

Dorothy's thin nostrils flared. "Don't look at me as if I'd sprouted horns, a forked tail, and cloven hooves. I did it for your own good. As long as you persisted in dilly-dallying with the woman, your career was at stake. And now the decent folks in this town can talk of nothing but the fact that their esteemed governor has taken a mistress."

"Bloody hell!" Jon's clenched fist crashed down on the dresser. "The whole lot of them can go to the devil!"

Dorothy flinched. "Is she your mistress?"

Jon's eyes bored into hers. "That's no one's business but mine."

Dorothy's bottom lip quivered with vexation. "What do you suppose your daughters must think, hearing that their father has taken up with—"

"The woman he loves! The woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with!" Jon's chest felt as if it were being crushed, and a dull pain accompanied each beat of his heart. It came to him then that he no longer wanted Sarah for his mistress. He wanted her as his wife. But marriage had never been an option. Sarah made it clear she intended to maintain her independence, and nothing had changed, not his presence in her life, nor their growing love. But thanks to his mother, Sarah learned that the town was buzzing with gossip about her being his mistress, so even that wasn't an option now. She'd been too humiliated to stay in Victoria and face the hypocrites who gossiped righteously during the day and crept into their lovers' beds at night, and he'd acted like all the other bastards in her life, calling her a loose-tailed hellcat and storming out in a rage, when the truth was, she was a woman who would not feel passion without love. A sensitive, vulnerable woman who was too independent to be a man's wife, and too proud to be his mistress. A woman who loved him enough to leave him.

And he didn't know what to do about it.

He glared at his mother, whose lips had flattened in annoyance. "
Stay out of my personal life!
" he shouted, and stormed out of the room, colliding with Ida in the hallway.

Ida pulled herself together. "There's a rather disreputable-looking gentleman here to see you. He says his name is Mr. Ely Cooper. Shall I send him away?"

"Cooper? He's from the livery," Jon said, puzzled. "No, I'll see what he wants."

Ely Cooper stood waiting in the entry. "'
Scuse
me for
disturbin
' you,
guv'nor
, but there's
somethin
' I think you might want to know."

"Yes?" Jon saw from the nervous way Ely turned his hat in his hands that he was agitated about something.

"When I arrived at the livery this
mornin
', old Judd had wandered in by
hisself
and was
standin
' there with the wagon Miss Ashley had jobbed. The wagon still had all Miss Ashley's goods in it, but she weren't
nowheres
about. I knew from the pile
layin
' behind old Judd that he'd been there awhile, so I '
spect
he come sometime
durin
' the night." Ely dropped his eyes downward. "
Knowin
' your fondness for the lady, I thought you might
oughta
know."

Jon combed his fingers through his hair. There could be any number of explanations. Sarah could have hired someone to deliver the trunks to the wharf and return the wagon to the livery, and the person might have neglected to do so. Or she could have left the wagon parked somewhere and the old horse wandered off with it...

"Did the trunks look disturbed, as if something might have happened?"

"Well, yes, sir, they did... some," Ely replied. "A small one was toppled, and some goods was tossed about like there'd been a scuffle or
somethin
'."

"A scuffle?" The chilling possibility that something dire had happened to Sarah hit Jon with the impact of a severe blow. He braced his hand against the wall until the lightness passed.

"You okay,
guv'nor
?"

"Oh... uh... yes." Jon sucked in a long breath to try to calm the beating of his heart. He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a gold piece. Pressing it into Ely's hand, he said, "Go to the waterfront and start asking questions, see what you can learn about what happened."

"Yes, sir," Ely said. "I know some lads who know just about everything that goes on down there. I'll hustle '
em
up and see what they can find out."

Immediately, Jon mounted his horse and raced for town and told Sheriff Heaton what happened, and Heaton and his deputies began combing the waterfront and searching backstreets and alleys. Two hours later, Heaton located Jon on the wharf at the foot of Yates Street, and said, "We talked to a woman who said she was one of Miss Ashley's customers. She claimed she saw two men hauling something big from the pie wagon, that it could've been a woman wrapped in a blanket. They dumped it into another wagon and drove off. I'm afraid it looks like she's been shanghaied."

Jon felt his heart squeezed as though in a vise. "Those bloody rutting bastards in the goldfields will kill her."

"It looks bad," Heaton agreed. "Meanwhile, we checked sailing schedules for ships that left port yesterday and today, just in case things turned out this way. Along with the
Revelation
, which we discounted, it being the mission ship and all, there were three other steamers heading for the goldfields: the
Prince George
, the
Vanderhoof
, and the
Lillooet
. Of course, she could have been transported in a smaller vessel."

"Then we'll go after them," Jon said, clenching his jaws with grim determination. "Tell Dudley to make ready the
Hudson
, and tell Burlington to meet me in my office. And I'll need some men." Blood drummed in his ears. He'd battle his way through hell and throw himself at Sarah's feet if only to beg her forgiveness for the callous, no, brutal things he'd said to her. Nothing mattered now but finding her and telling her he loved her, unequivocally.

***

As the gangway of the
Hudson
settled against the dock, jagged lightning stabbed through the clouds, and thunder cracked with a deafening report, rumbling and rolling and gaining momentum as it feathered out across the sky. Standing on the deck, Jon tugged his hat lower to fend off gust-blown raindrops that whipped around him. He gazed at the derelict town, another nameless settlement of tents and shacks and hovels and bawdy hotels dotting the banks of the Fraser River. The hamlet was deserted, save for a few paltry prospectors who slogged ankle-deep in the slurry. Was Sarah imprisoned in one of the ramshackle hotels overlooking the muddy street? Or perhaps locked in one of the shacks or hovels cluttering the riverbank? Or would this be just another futile stop like all the others? It had been six hellish days since she'd disappeared.