Chapter 13 #2
What had happened, she wondered then, what had she said?
Nothing, nothing at all. But something must have slipped into her voice, something that echoed all the heartache and agony she had endured, for her cousin’s arms were suddenly around her, holding her, and his slim fingers were gently soothing her hair.
“Thou art with us now, dear cousin, and while we breathe, none will hurt you again.”
Don’t! Oh, don’t be so terribly kind, she wanted to cry out.
She was trying to stand on her own feet, but he made it so very easy to lean against his shoulders!
What would he think if he knew the whole story; that she had been condemned as a witch, that she had earned her passage by playing a whore.
That she loved a married man with all her heart and soul, and now needed protection against herself, rather than him.
Someone cleared his throat; Brianna and Robert both started to see that Luke and the lord mayor were standing quietly to the left of them.
“My dear girl!” the lord mayor said, perplexed. “What is going on here?”
Brianna forced herself to laugh lightly. “Oh, sir! Meet Robert Powell, Luke’s friend, and my dear cousin.”
The lord mayor raised a white eyebrow. “Cousin?”
“Ah, don’t perplex the man further, Brianna!” Robert said, bowing slightly to the lord mayor. “Our mothers were cousins, sir. Brianna spent part of her childhood in my household.”
“And—” Brianna hesitated. She knew she must speak, and convincingly, and yet she couldn’t.
It would be so easy to wait for Sloan to come back.
To sail away with him, and forget all that she knew about right and wrong.
But she could not. He was married; he had a wife, before God.
He could never love her completely, and in time the pain of it would tear them apart, and she would hold nothing.
Before God, she would be an adulteress, and willingly so.
“Oh, dear sir!” she exclaimed to the lord mayor. “You must explain to Lord Treveryan for me that I have found my family, and that I am going with Robert to join my own kin.”
“Brianna—” Robert began, and she didn’t know what he was about to say, so she discreetly stamped on his foot, cutting him off.
“Will you do that for me, please?” Brianna finished.
“Well, I—I—” the lord mayor stuttered, his cheeks turning red, and Brianna was sorry that she did not dare meet Sloan again herself.
“He will be most pleased to hear that things have worked out so well!” she lied.
Luke stepped into the conversation, believing her every word.
Perhaps his heart was so staunchly Puritan, so trusting in goodness and the truth, that he didn’t think to doubt the situation.
He was, perhaps, such a man as to consider it unthinkable that she had spent her voyage as the Lord Treveryan’s mistress.
“Praise God!” said Luke, smiling as if a miracle had indeed occurred. “That you have sought your kin, and found them here in our midst!”
“Amen!” Robert said, and suddenly all Brianna wanted to do was leave the tavern before Sloan could walk back in. If she saw him again, she would never be able to leave him.
“Robert, forgive me. I’m feeling a little faint.…”
“Ah, poor child! Come to the bench, I’ll call for water and salts.”
“No, no!” she pleaded, lifting a hand. “If I could but have some fresh air …”
“Of course, of course!” Robert bowed slightly to all assembled, then, gripping her elbow, hurried her outside the tavern.
“Do you wish to sit?” he queried gently. “What shall I do?”
She smiled wanly. “Get me out of here, quickly, Robert, please.”
“But should you walk—”
“Yes, oh, please take me home. I do not wish to disturb your business, but I am desperate! I cannot stay here.”
She would never know quite what he understood at that moment, but he tarried no longer.
They hurried across the road to the small stable where his horse was lodged, and he apologized that they must ride together, for he had no other.
Brianna assured him that it didn’t matter in the least. Finally, when she was mounted behind him, she pressed her face against his back, willing herself not to cry out, not to jump from the horse and race back to Sloan.
As they rode he told her about the family.
There had been many births over the years and there were babies always about the house, to his mother’s delight.
Then he started saying something about the Colonies, but she didn’t hear.
With each tired plod of the old workhorse’s hooves, she realized that they were going farther and farther away.
She could no longer smell the sea, nor hear any sound of waves or surf.
Each of those hoofbeats kept time with the dull thud of her heart; she was leaving Sloan, she was leaving him, when he was all that she loved in the world.
“Ah, Brianna, despite the problems, it is a new world. A wonderful new world. Far away. A man may hold all the land he craves, and all his neighbors are of like persuasion! Think of it! It is a special place for God’s chosen.…”
She didn’t know what he was saying, although she fully heard the drone of his voice. It meant nothing. Nothing at all.
Suddenly, in the haven of a green forest cove, she burst into tears.
Robert drew the horse quickly to a halt and slid from the saddle.
Vaguely she felt his arms, the slimness of him, and the rattle in his chest, and fearing for him was perhaps the best thing for her at that moment.
She stiffened, determined not to lean, and she tried to wipe the tears quickly from her cheeks.
“Brianna, what is it?”
“Oh, you’re not well.”
“I’m fine! I’m fine!” He told her impatiently, and, his arm set about her shoulders, he walked her to a spot of rich and splendid green beneath a gnarled oak, and pressed her to sit.
He disappeared, and was back, offering her water.
She took a sip, then leaned back against the tree, staring upward to the sky.
The leaves played over the fall of sunlight, one minute shadowing, the next breaking apart to allow a dazzle of golden light through.
At last she looked at her cousin and she felt ridiculous, for she was trying to smile while great liquid drops which she could not prevent fell from her eyes and dampened her cheeks.
His face, that gentle, caring face from her childhood, touched now with lines of age about his eyes and mouth, was taut with worry.
“You are so very good,” she whispered.
“You must tell me what hurts you so,” he returned quietly. “Please.” He hesitated just a moment. “You would not have my mother see you so distressed, would you?”
“No, no,” Brianna said, lowering her head. She plucked a blade of grass from the ground and shredded it between her fingers. Laughter bubbled in her throat, although nothing at all was amusing. Then she stared at him and blurted out, “I am a witch, Robert. Did you know that?”
“Brianna!” His dark brows knit in a stern frown. “You must not say such a thing, even jokingly.”
“But I am.”
“If you have been practicing witchcraft, white or malefic, you must cease immediately! You will be hanged, and far worse, you will cast your immortal soul into the pits of hell!”
Staring at him, she began to shake her head.
“Oh, Robert! I never practiced any form of witchcraft! But that is why Pegeen is dead, Robert. They—they—burned her. Oh, Robert! There was a horrible, evil man, I swear it, who claimed against her, and she was innocent. He brought me to trial also, and I was almost hanged. I—”
“Stop! Stop!” Robert interrupted her. “Slowly, Brianna, tell it all to me slowly.”
She did. She drew in a great shivering breath and began to tell him part of the story, leaving out most things about Sloan, except that he had twice saved her from the clutches of “the law.” And at long last she ended with “But I am innocent, Robert. I swear it to you.”
“I believe you.” He sighed, leaning against the tree beside her.
He was silent for several minutes, and when he spoke, it was thoughtfully.
“This all seems to be for the best,” he said.
“In a matter of weeks we will be gone from England. No one will know what went before, and in the Colonies we will start over.”
“The Colonies?” she murmured.
“Aye.” He set his arm around her again. “Brianna, if you escaped, as you say, you are still guilty before the law. Only the king could give you a pardon, and he certainly would not. Brianna, I would not spread this story farther than it has gone, for people who do not know you would think you guilty of the crime.”
He paused again, then asked quite suddenly, “Why did you start to cry so?”
“I—I just told you.”
“Nay, you told me a tragic story, but not why you were so very anxious to leave the tavern. And why did you burst into tears as we left the sea behind us without taking proper leave of the man who saved your life?”
She couldn’t find words, or her voice. At length she shook her head and whispered, “I could not.”
“You are in love with him,” Robert said gravely.
She lifted her hands, not willing to dispute him, and not able to lie. She remembered that the greatest sin among Puritans was to tell a lie. Truth was precious to them.
“He is married,” she said flatly, and when he replied with a very soft “Oh,” and held her to his shoulder, she knew that he understood.
A leaf, deep green and summer verdant, fell from the tree and drifted down beside her. She felt the stir of the breeze, a ray of the sun streaking through the blanket cast against the sun by the tall branches of the tree.
The sky, the earth, the wind, and all beautiful things were hers now—because of Sloan. And yet leaving him was the only thing that she could do.
“Will he come for you?” Robert asked.
“I don’t know.”
“He will.”
“Oh, I pray that he does not. For I do love him with all my heart and I ran from him today because I am afraid that I haven’t the power to stand against him.”
“God will give thee that power, Brianna.”
He was sure, so positive in the simplicity of his faith. Robert stood and reached down a hand to her. “Come, cousin. I will take you home. Our love will be always with thee, strong against temptation.”
She accepted his hand and rose—even though she felt she knew much more about temptation than Robert. But now she must trust him and the love of her family, and cling to them for strength to hold fast to her resolutions.
They rode in silence for some time. “It is unlikely,” Robert mused at last, “that Lord Treveryan could find you tonight. But he will come. I’m convinced of it. When he does, you must meet him, and convince him that he imperils your immortal soul.”
Brianna closed her eyes and wondered if she’d ever forget what it felt like to live with this horrible, aching pain? To breathe, and breathe in loneliness and despair.
Yes—she would be going to a new land. She would no longer be an outlaw, a condemned criminal, for none would have heard of her crime. She had to keep believing in the new land.