Love’s Betrayal (15 page)

“What if he should leave without telling you?”

Delight felt her spirits sink. “Pray he speaks his mind before he departs.”

“I will, sister. I will with all the fervency in my very being. He would not have kissed you if he did not care.”

“Thank you.” Delight felt her eyes moisten. “I wish we could have become close long before this very moment.”

“Aye, we've missed so very much. I always loved you, but our closeness now is beyond my deepest dream.”

Delight's eyes moistened with the confession. “And I love you, Charity. Just like your name, you give in abundance. I will pray James sees your goodness.”

Delight smiled at the remembrance of the sweet times lately with all of her sisters. Adversity had a way of ushering in God's grace.

Glancing at the huge piles of wood Henry had chopped in preparation for winter gave Delight a sense of relief. Her family would not go hungry. Neither would they freeze in the cold. They'd have the company of each other to sustain them through the hard times until Papa—and Henry—returned. If only she had some type of assurance that Papa and Henry might fare as easily. She wanted to do something to help, but what? Helplessness wove its web of inadequacy, leaving her heavyhearted and frustrated.

She could not carry a musket, although she had heard stories of wives who followed the troops to cook and tend to the soldiers. Some, when they saw their husbands fall in battle, picked up their weapons and continued the fight.

She'd promised Papa not to indulge in dangerous activities, which meant in her estimation that she could do little of any value for the cause.

“Where is your faith?”

The whispers from a place neither her heart nor her mind could claim spoke with a truth she could not deny.

“You believe in Me for eternity. Why can't you trust Me with the present?”

T
he next evening, Henry waited with tumultuous feelings for James's arrival. The man had become a good, respected friend, and he valued their relationship. But what of the man's interest in Delight?

Loving her meant Henry desired the utmost for her, God's richest blessings.
I need to fade into the background and allow them to grow closer. I give her to Thee, Lord. My wish for her happiness exceeds my selfish ambitions.

The afternoon came and went. Henry delivered woven goods to three families and took an order for one more. All the while he harbored mixed emotions about James's tardiness. Mistress Butler waited the evening meal in anticipation of their guest joining them, but at last they partook of the food. James was a man of his word. He lived a daring life. He would walk through Satan's fire if it furthered the cause of the patriots. His delay sent an uncomfortable sensation up Henry's spine. Surely the British soldiers and loyalists sought to end his life—a possibility Henry tried without success to push from his thoughts.

“James must have been detained,” Mistress Butler said during the meal. A silence had befallen them. Even Mercy and Hope were unusually quiet. In their young minds, a word from their guest might be a word from Papa. “Shall we pray for him? Perhaps Henry would do us the honor.”

What a blessing for me to lead this family in prayer,
Henry thought as he bowed his head.
Thank Ye, Lord.
“Heavenly Father, we welcome Your presence into our lives, and bless Your name for these bounteous gifts. We humbly ask Ye keep careful watch on our dear friend, James. Protect him from harm's way and sustain him in the shadow of Your blessings. Lord, also remember Elijah. Bring him through this war without injury and back to all of us who care for him. In Jesus' name, amen.”

Once the firelight cast its shadows, the sisters closed the shutters and latched them. Mistress Butler fed the baby and rocked him to sleep, nearly drifting off herself before gathering up a basket of mending. An hour later after reading the scripture aloud and practicing their writing, Mercy and Hope made the trek upstairs to bed. Some of the young women busied themselves with knitting or their samplers, while Patience wrote a letter to her father, and Charity kept one eye on the door. Delight said little, no doubt fretting with Charity over James's absence. She held a book in her hand, but not once did he see her glance at a page. Henry listened for every sound, anxious to hear Bear's bark, announcing a caller.

“I am certain James will be here soon,” Henry said, long after the hour grew late. “Only his loyalty to the cause would hinder his presence.”

“I agree.” Mama put aside her mending. “I believe we should not tarry in obtaining our rest. If he arrives, we shall hear him.”

Henry knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. The gnawing in his spirit had lingered after his prayer. “I believe I will resume the watch a wee bit longer.”

“I should like to keep you company.” Charity spoke from a corner chair where she had long since set her basket of yarn at her feet. “Delight, I would appreciate your presence.”

“Of course. We can talk or read.”

“Do not stay up too late, girls,” Mama said. “Tomorrow is another day.”

Henry noted the gentle smiles and compassion exchanged between Delight and Charity. His beloved had told him of their renewed dedication to each other, and he'd seen the change since the day of Elijah's departure. He wondered about their common attraction to James and how they could ignore their emotions. Rather than deliberate the matter, he quickly discarded it. After giving the worrisome problem to God, he shouldn't keep calling it to mind. Tonight his concerns belonged to James.

His friend had mentioned running provisions and ammunition under the guise of shelled corn in barrels that Elijah had constructed. If the British searched the contents of James's wagon, they would find more than corn to grind into flour and certainly end his friend's quest for liberty—and his life. None of those possibilities needed to be communicated to the fair women of the Butler household. He believed they should be sheltered from whatever unpleasantness possible, with the exception of Delight. Henry had a feeling she could see her way through just about anything.

Another reason why he loved her.

“What do you suppose has detained him?” Charity said. In the next breath, she stood and paced in front of the fireplace.

“A number of things could delay his arrival.” Henry purposely kept his voice calm and quiet. “With his activity among the Continental forces, he is probably on a special mission.” His answer held more truth than he cared to admit.

Charity nodded and forced a grim smile. “Of course. Tomorrow we shall be exhausted because we tarried into such a late hour.”

She obviously cares for James.
He glanced at Delight. Worry lines creased her forehead. How he longed to comfort the burden resting on her mind.

“James is self-sufficient. It is wrong for us to agonize over his absence. He would not want any of us to fret over this.” Delight stood and placed a hand on Charity's arm. “Let's go on to bed. Bear will alert us.”

Charity's shoulders rose and fell as if a heavy sigh had drawn her strength. “Aye, you are correct in your assessment.” Her gaze lifted to her sister's face. “Come along then.”

The two bid Henry good night and encouraged him to seek his rest.

“I shall, lasses.” He avoided Delight's face, knowing her heart was with another. “Sleep well.”

After the women ascended the stairs, Henry allowed his own thoughts to wander. James was not blind to the uncertainties of his position. He had a clever side to him that had kept him a step ahead of the enemy. Still, danger loomed in these perilous times, and Henry could not help but think of Adam and his other compatriots who had perished in the fighting. Henry wasn't ready to lose another friend, albeit he realized many fine men on both sides held death as their destiny before the war ended. He could be one of those, too.

Henry had given himself four more days before enlisting. In truth, he and James planned to travel together to the nearest camp, where his friend assured him of a proper introduction to General Gates. Regardless of where James might be at the end of the allotted time, Henry planned to venture on himself. They had spoken about a great number of things from their boyhood days to their understanding of God's salvation to war stories, but nothing about Delight. He assumed she was a subject neither of them wanted to broach.

Repeatedly Henry told himself God had a special woman intended for his life, and if not Delight then surely someone better. But he could think of no one finer than the woman who had stolen his heart.

“Henry?” the one holding his thoughts whispered behind him. “Do you mind if I keep you company?”

Warmth flowed through him. “Of course not. Ye cannot sleep?”

She shook her head. “Charity is resting, though, and for that I am grateful.”

Poor Delight. I know the pain of a heart wounded by love.

With the flames licking at the log he had just added, she eased down to share his bench. “I thought we might talk since …”

He quickly captured her gaze and held it for as long as she permitted. “Since we are waiting for James,” he said, finishing her sentence.

Silence permeated the air, and she stared into the fire. “Yes, that, too. But I meant we could converse since you planned to enlist soon.”

How sweet to concern herself with me in light of her feelings toward James,
he thought. “In less than a week, I will be serving under General Gates.”

“Perhaps you shall see Papa.”

“I'd like nothing better than to fight with him.”

She toyed with the cuff of her frock. “I would be most grateful if you'd tell him of our love and prayers.”

“Aye, lass, I will. There's no need to ask.”

“What do you intend to do after the war?” She peered into his face, her large eyes innocent and … did he see fear? “I assume you will want to continue your weaving.”

“My loom is me livelihood, but I have a desire to live among the dear people of Chesterfield. Your father requested I return here.”

She smiled. “We would all like for you to make your home near us.”

He chuckled. “Delight, I remember when ye detested the sight of me, and now ye want me near your family?”

In the firelight, she blushed. “I remember, too. I am so glad those days are gone.”

He memorized every inch of her lovely features. “Are there things you wish for me to do before I leave?”

“I think not. We are ready for winter, thanks to your and Papa's provision.”

A strange, yet comforting silence fell upon them. He relished in it, promising himself these memories would warm the bitter winter days and nights ahead.

“I'd like to ask you something, Henry.”

He raised a brow. “By all means.”

Her gaze darted about, and she appeared to have difficulty forming her words.

Why did I initiate this conversation?
Delight cringed with what she so desperately wanted to ask, troubled over what Henry might reply. She had contemplated this for too long. The thought plagued her worse than enduring baby Elijah's cries when Mama forbid anyone to pick him up. She could not go on another day without knowing. Henry had acted so indifferently since the day Papa left. His impassiveness led her to believe he regretted his kiss. The notion of their brief embrace meaning little should have angered her, but instead the thought filled her with sadness.

“Delight?”

Oh, how I wish I had not pursued this matter. My mind should be on James and prayers for his safety, not myself.

“What is tormenting ye? I can see the anguish in your face.”

The fire crackled, sounding like musket fire, and it caused her to gasp.

“Lass, it is only the fire.”

“I know. Henry.” She rubbed her clammy palms together. “Remember the day Papa left, when you followed me to the far field?”

He nodded.

“And Charity came looking for us?”

“I clearly recall every moment.”

With a deep breath, she spoke the penetrating question. “Did you have any affections in your kiss?”

Henry leaned forward, his words spoken in a whisper. “Did ye?”

How can I answer without looking foolish? Dear Lord, this is difficult beyond measure.

Bear rose on his haunches and stared at the door. A growl rumbled in his throat.

“Easy.” He stroked the dog's back. When the animal moved forward, Henry reached for the musket hanging above the fireplace.

Bear knows James. He'd never growl at him.
The dog barked, and Delight jumped.

“Delight, go upstairs with your family,” Henry ordered. “Do not come down until I tell ye everything is safe.”

She started to object, but the commanding tone in his voice stopped her from protesting. Still she did not move.

“Now! This is not a time to argue.”