Dangerous deceptions, p.34
Dangerous Deceptions, page 34
Nancy proudly showed Catherine around her modest home, then took her out to the flourishing kitchen garden where row after row of corn and all manner of vegetables grew.
“Jack stays busy all day in the fields, so I am often here alone, although Margaret and Abby have taken to stopping by regularly. I think they fear I may explode one day with no one here to assist!”
Both girls laughed. Catherine was near bursting to tell Nancy of her adventures the past week, though she didn’t dare whilst Jack was present.
“Do you feel up for a short walk, Nan?”
“Indeed. I’ll show you the orchard. We have apples and pears. The peaches are ripe now.”
The orchard beyond Nancy’s home was beautiful and, more importantly, secluded. They wandered amongst the trees, Catherine enjoying the cool breeze wafting off the river and the pungent smell of the ripe fruit. They both picked a peach and bit into it. Finally, Catherine could keep still no longer.
“Something has happened, Nan, something terrible and wonder . . .”
“I am so sorry for your loss, Catherine. I wept when Abby told me ye’d lost yer babe.”
“No. No, it’s not that.”
Nancy studied her friend. “You are smiling. What could have happened so ‘terrible’ it makes you smile?”
“Oh, Nancy.” Catherine hugged herself and twirled around and around. “I’ve never been so happy!” She stopped abruptly. “I’ve met a wonderful man.”
“Oh, my!” Nancy sucked in her breath. “What have you done?”
“Everything!” Catherine laughed gaily. “I couldn’t help myself. I’ve never felt this way before. Oh, Nancy, I only thought I loved Noah. I didn’t love him at all, not the way I love . . .”
“Who?” Nancy’s eyes widened. “Who do you love? I know of no man in Jamestown more charming than Noah Colton . . . unless it be one of the new settlers just come off the ship.”
Taking hold of Nancy’s hands, Catherine gazed deeply into her eyes. “If I tell you, I must have your word you’ll never say a word to anyone, not ever! Not even if you are tortured!”
“Tortured!” Nancy frowned. “I’m not sure I want to know. Perhaps it’s best kept a secret. I’m certain ye’ll not let it get out of hand. Think of the scandal. Ye’d have no choice but to leave Jamestown. Ye don’t plan to leave, do you?”
“No, of course not.” Catherine bit her lip to keep from saying more. She’d said too much already. She’d never meant to tell Nancy his name. She was just so giddy in love, her joy showed on her face, it spilled from her eyes, and . . . apparently from her mouth. “I’m being silly. It’s only my imagination. We’ve hardly even talked.” True. They spent far more time making love. “Forget everything I’ve said.”
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re feelin’ better.”
“I feel wonder . . . yes; yes, I do feel better, Nancy. Much better, thank you.”
When Catherine returned home that evening, she found Lydia curled up in bed, her entire body burning with fever.
Chapter 34
ON THE BED IN HER TINY chamber, Lydia lay barely conscious. Apparently the girl had contracted the fever some days ago and had only now begun to feel so bad she could not continue her duties. Catherine knew at once what the trouble was and raced to the loft for herbs to stir into a tisane that might bring down the fever.
She sat with Lydia throughout the next several nights, nodding off on occasion even as she kept a silent vigil at the girl’s bedside. Getting virtually no rest, it took all the energy she could muster to prepare sufficient food for herself and bowls of nourishing broth for Lydia. Each time she went outdoors for more logs, the sight of the diminishing stack behind the shed filled her with dread. If Noah didn’t come home soon, where would she get more wood? Lydia hadn’t said a word about it last week, and Catherine had been so preoccupied with her own . . . activities, she hadn’t once looked toward the woodpile.
She plastered the girl’s chest with a pasty mixture of crushed yarrow blossoms and bathed her fevered brow again and again with cool water. On the third day that week, Lydia’s fever finally broke. When she opened her pale blue eyes, they were clear.
Catherine smiled down on the girl lying limp as a rag doll on the bed. “You’ve given me quite a scare.”
“I be fine, mum.” That said, her eyes glazed over, and once again she fell into a fitful slumber.
Still fearful, Catherine watched her sleep. Lydia had grown so thin that even if she recovered, Catherine knew it would be a long while before she regained enough strength in her small body to be of use to anyone. At length, Catherine tiptoed from the room to go and lie down on her own bed.
The next morning, when Noah barged into the house, he found both women sound asleep. The fire that usually burned low in the hearth was a pile of white ashes.
“Catherine.” He shook her roughly. “Get up! Fire’s gone out and I’m famished.”
Catherine rolled over. “Is Lydia . . .?”
“Asleep, the same as you are. I leave the house, and the two of you become lazy slugabeds!”
“Lydia’s been ill, Noah.” Blinking herself awake, Catherine got to her feet. “I’ll prepare something to eat.”
When Catherine saw that the fire had indeed burned out during the night, she asked Noah to take the shovel to the outdoor oven and bring back some live embers so she could build it up again.
He grumbled but did as she asked. While he was gone, Catherine looked in on Lydia, who was still sleeping. She then went to bring in the last few logs in readiness to get the fire going and prepare their breakfast.
“We have no more wood, Noah,” she announced briskly when she came back inside carrying the last few logs. “You’ll need to cut down a tree and split the limbs . . . ”
He looked up, a scowl on his face. “Where have you been getting wood from?”
Her lips pursed with annoyance. “If you must know, John Fuller brought the last stack, before you and I married. We’ve completely used it up.”
Noah muttered an oath.
Over the simple meal of corn pudding Catherine prepared, she again brought up the matter of the firewood. “Unless the deputy-governor has been providing you traders with firewood as well as corn, you have no choice, Noah, but to roll up your sleeves and . . . ”
He slammed his trencher onto the table. “I’ll take care of it, Catherine. Lord, you’ve become a nag.”
She clamped her mouth shut and said nothing further, not even a half hour later when he swaggered out the door whistling a merry tune, his new red beret perched jauntily on his head.
Instantly, the thought struck Catherine to race into the woods in search of Phyrahawque. She had missed him fiercely all last week. But she quickly changed her mind. It would be far too dangerous now with Noah about. Instead, she took a basket into the corn patch to pick whatever ears had ripened overnight. Lanneika had warned her not to let the golden ears sit too long on the stalk lest the raccoons get at them.
She was plucking corn from the last row of stalks when a flicker of movement through the trees caught her eye. Phyrahawque! Her eyes widened. She flung a quick glance over one shoulder in search of Noah. Not seeing him, she lifted her skirts and darted into the woods.
But it wasn’t Phyrahawque.
“Lanneika.”
“Phyrahawque worry. He say I come see. You all right? Not sick?”
Wearing a sad smile, Catherine said, “I’m not sick, but Lydia has been ill with the fever, and Noah returned home this morning.”
“I tell Phyrahawque.” Her shiny black eyes alert, she cocked her head to one side. “You look . . . ” She paused, a smile playing at her lips. “I now go.”
“Tell Phyrahawque I miss him terribly.”
Lanneika grinned. “He miss you.”
Indoors sometime later, a disturbance caused Catherine to look up from her work in time to see Ed Henley’s flatbed wagon rumble to a halt outside. Noah sat on the platform beside Ed. Behind them the wagon was piled high with sticks of wood. In seconds, Noah brushed past Catherine into the house, hurried up the ladder to the loft and came back down carrying a shiny beaver pelt draped over one arm.
“Got you some firewood and me a dozen jugs of ale,” he said with high satisfaction.
Catherine’s lips thinned as she returned again to work.
FOLLOWING SERVICES that next Sabbath morning, Deputy-Governor Argall stepped to the podium and announced that every able-bodied man was hereby pressed into service to help construct bark houses for those settlers who still remained homeless and, when that task was complete, to dig a new water well.
Catherine could not hold back her own secret smile of high satisfaction.
Twice that next week while Noah was laboring with all the other men in Jamestown, she managed to sneak off to meet Phyrahawque in the forest. The threat of discovery made their time together all the more precious. For both of them, it took no more than a look, a touch, or the simplest of kisses to ignite a passion within them they both found irresistible. They clung to one another more tightly than ever before, loath to part lest they not see one another again for many suns.
“I dream of you every second we are apart,” Catherine murmured, her arms clasped around his neck, her warm breath fanning his bare chest.
“You Phyrahawque’s woman now.” He kissed the top of her auburn head.
“I have been yours since the moment I saw you,” she replied dreamily. “I wonder that I can live without you.”
He pulled away, his black eyes pinning hers. “You mine now,” he said solemnly. “Your home with me now in forest.”
Catherine gazed up at him, her breath ragged as she chewed on her lower lip. Dear God, how she wished it could be so! When she was with Phyrahawque all her worries melted away, and she felt more free and happy than she’d ever felt in her life. “If only I could be with you . . . forever.”
“Come.” He grasped hold of one hand as if to take her with him right then.
“No.” She shook her head. “No, I . . . I cannot.”
But the idea stayed with her. Especially those evenings when Noah came in, hot, tired, and irritable from having spent his entire day toiling at a loathsome task.
“I refuse to go back tomorrow.”
“You have no choice, Noah.” They were seated at the board table finishing up their evening meal, it being the first Lydia had prepared since her illness.
“I’ve neglected my trading,” he mused.
Catherine’s heart lurched. Were Noah to resume his daily excursions into the woods, she would have no choice but to cease seeing Phyrahawque altogether. A prospect she did not wish to consider. Ever. Despite the fact that occasional pricks of guilt over her shameless behavior did assail her, the immense love she felt for him meant it took precious little effort for her to successfully push the guilt aside. She could think of nothing powerful enough to erase the enormous love she felt for Phyrahawque. Beneath his strong, stoic exterior she now knew him to be the kindest, most tenderhearted man she’d ever known. Nothing short of being struck dead by a lightning bolt from Heaven could keep Catherine from his arms now. She loved him that much.
Noah lingered longer than usual at the table that night, downing mug after mug of Ed Henley’s strong brew. When at last he staggered into the bedchamber, Catherine had already retired and lay dreaming about her few stolen hours that day with Phyrahawque. Her dream was shattered when Noah roughly dragged her toward him. He hadn’t touched her since she’d lost her baby.
She stiffened now. “Noah, please!”
“You’re my wife, and I have my needs!”
Knowing it was useless to resist him, she gritted her teeth against the inevitable. Her eyes squeezed shut as he jerked her night rail above her waist and heaved his drunken weight on top of her.
Two weeks later, she was alarmed when her menses did not come on schedule. Her alarm turned to panic when the second month came and her menses didn’t. Ordinarily, she’d have been thrilled to know she was with child. Now fear and worry seized her. Having believed she could never conceive again, she’d been careless with Phyrahawque, not asking him to take the necessary precaution to avoid conception, such as not spilling his seed within her, or herself chewing up a handful of carrot seeds, which she’d been told would prevent a woman from conceiving. Worse, still, she could not say for certain who the father of her child might be. Phyrahawque or Noah.
Chapter 35
SEPTEMBER 1618
She also could not decide whether or not to tell Noah she was pregnant. Since she never knew when he might be away from Jamestown, or for how long he’d be gone, if she waited until later to tell him and he hadn’t been home for several weeks, he would very likely accuse her of infidelity. On the other hand, were she to tell him now and the child was Phyrahawque’s, she would die if Noah became angry over some trifling matter and harmed this baby.
Still, since Noah had so recently been at her, recent enough that he could easily recall the encounter, it was likely he would accept the child as his. At least until the baby was born. In her heart Catherine knew the child was Phyrahawque’s, conceived out of the deep love she and the Indian warrior felt for one another. With all her heart, she wanted this baby even more than the last one because it was Phyrahawque’s, and she knew it would be beautiful and much loved by both herself and its father. Nightly she prayed that God would help her get through the next seven months and bring this child into the world alive and healthy.
In the end, she decided it was safer to tell Noah now, though she was not prepared for the scowl of anger he turned on her.
“I’ve hardly touched you!”
“Well, apparently you’ve touched me enough. Besides,” she fabricated, “they say that abstinence makes a woman more fertile, so I expect the weeks I was . . . ill, and you were away rendered my body more receptive. In any case, by my reckoning, the babe will be born sometime in the early spring.”
Later that night as they lay in bed, he again brought up the matter of her pregnancy. “I have decided the fact that you are to have a child will bode well for me. A babe will increase my consequence as a family man.”
“I don’t understand,” Catherine murmured sleepily.
“My bid for the governorship.” He sounded irritable that she hadn’t followed his reasoning.
Though the room was pitch black, Catherine did not need light to detect the familiar twitch of annoyance at his mouth.
“For the selfsame reason, I’ve also decided you should start up your school again. The Virginia Company investors will look favorably on a family man whose wife is the only teacher in the colony. I expect Argall to be removed from office soon. Rumblings against him are increasing daily, especially since the uprising in Henricus.”
“But that was your fault,” she pointed out.
He sprang up in bed, his body twisting toward her in the darkness. “A vile accusation from my own wife! Don’t ever say such a thing again!”
She quickly remembered her vow not to overset him. “I’m sorry, Noah. Clearly, I am wrong. You are far and away the most qualified man in Virginia to be named governor.”
“Well . . .” He appeared mollified. “I daresay your judgment is improving. Pray, let it continue. Now, I expect to see children seated at the board tables in the common room at once. I plan to have my list of grievances against Argall ready to hand to Lord De La Warr when he arrives.”
Catherine had some difficulty convincing Noah that since everyone in the tidewater area, except himself and the other two traders, were at this time of year busy harvesting their tobacco crop in readiness to ship the leaves back to England, now was not a good time to start up her school.
“Even in the beginning, I let it be known there would be no classes during harvest. Perhaps I could hold a short winter session, although, if you recall, I dispensed with that last year due to harsh weather.”
At his growl of disapproval, she added, “Very well, I shall post a notice on the meetinghouse door just as soon as harvest is over and leaf-fall upon us. The children can come for a month or two before and after Christmastide . . . at least until the snows become too heavy for them to get here.”
Once again, Noah appeared mollified.
Because Jamestown’s new freshwater well had now been dug, and every new settler now enjoyed a semblance of shelter in his own bark hut, Noah had the leisure to spend a good part of each day making secret treks into the woods with items he absconded from the crates in the shed. Catherine noted with chagrin that the pile of pelts in the loft teetered higher and higher. She, on the other hand, was forced to stay close to the house. Though she longed with all her heart to see Phyrahawque, she feared he might not now find her body as beautiful as he once had.
In late September, Nancy gave birth to twin girls she named Jean and Jane. Catherine gave out the news she was again with child.
“I am so happy for you,” Abigail gushed. “I told Adam the day you visited with us that I believed you were with child. You looked positively radiant that day, as you do now!”
ON ONE ESPECIALLY WARM November day, Catherine looked up from her work and noted that the leaves on the trees were ablaze with color, fiery scarlet, brilliant orange and glittering gold. Not a cloud in the sky marred the expanse of azure blue overhead. The day was so glorious it took her breath away. Tears of sadness gathered in her eyes as her heart ached to share the beautiful day with Phyrahawque. They would lie on their backs on the ground, his silky black hair interlaced with hers as they stared up at the sky, their hearts bursting with love for the peaceful world around them . . . and for one another. She nearly choked with longing as she realized she’d lost count of the days and weeks since she’d last seen her beloved Indian warrior. He did not even know she was carrying his child.
One day when Noah left the house early, she could resist the pull of the forest no longer, and soon after the midday meal, she set out for the woods. But instead of finding Phyrahawque in her Secret Place, she again came upon Lanneika, who in grave tones told her that Phyrahawque had been forced to gather an army of warriors and travel to the place where the tribe usually lived during the sleeping time, when the snow fell.
