Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Augusta woke to find that Lady had entered the tent overnight and was curled up near the end of their makeshift bed.
Yawning, she rolled over and carefully got to her feet, trying to put weight on her ankle.
It was a little better than the day before, and when she looked down, it wasn’t as swollen.
The cabin had only two small windows on each side of the front door.
She noticed that some snow had melted, letting the sun peek through the thick clouds and illuminate the area with natural light.
That seemed promising. After gathering her case, she moved toward the door and the privy beyond.
Augusta looked back. Lady raised her head out of curiosity, then yawned and lowered it, continuing to sleep.
By the time she returned, Duncan had risen.
He came to her and kissed her cheek. “Good morning.”
She was tempted to grab fistfuls of his shirt and pull him in close for a more passionate kiss. Perhaps later. “Good morning. The sun is trying its best to peek through. I think we received a few more inches of snow last night.”
“Hopefully, that will be the last of it.”
She pointed at Lady. “She slept with us.”
“She is part of our pack, now,” Duncan smiled. “Lady has accepted us.”
“A pack. How wonderful. We should have more of the sliced meat for a meal before it spoils. Along with the bread,” Augusta suggested.
“I’ll build up the fire.”
They went about their duties working as a team, and in no time at all, they were sitting by the fire, the food and mugs of tea spread out before them on top of the trunk. Lady was nibbling on a plate of sausages and cheese.
Augusta cleared the dishes away and sat again, facing Duncan. “Shall we continue where we left off yesterday?”
He gave her a wry half smile. “I was afraid you would say that.”
“Is it that difficult to speak of? We do not have to do it now.”
Duncan exhaled. “I am tempted not to speak of it—ever. But holding it in for the past five years has not done me any good. All that guilt does is eat away at me, leaving me cross and withdrawn. I am aware of my many faults. As you said, how can we move toward the future if we cannot grapple with the past?”
“How wise of me. Shall I go first?” Duncan nodded as he sipped his tea.
“There is not much more to reveal. Over the past five years, I have lived a quiet life of seclusion, raising Reese and sharing household duties with my companion, Prisilla. It gave me a lot of time to reflect, and I did not much like the spoiled girl I’d been, the one who had run away.
I also have many faults, but I owned up to them and made peace with my past, at least part of it.
What I did was capricious, selfish, and dangerous.
I did not give my family a thought, nor did I consider how my self-seeking actions would harm them in society’s eyes.
I’m incredibly lucky that none of what I did leaked into the public purview. ” Augusta frowned.
“I owe my family an apology,” she continued.
“Yes, my father was and is overbearing and high-handed, and wanted to marry me off to some old marquess. Surely, we could have worked it out. Instead, I fled. I was a coward. A scared, spoiled little girl. Perhaps I convinced myself I was in love with Southen.” Augusta hesitated, then shook her head.
“No, it was love, however brief. On my side, at least. A youthful, intense, ultimately vulnerable experience.”
“I imagine young love encompasses all that and the thrill of that first rush of emotion.”
“It did. But when I received the eviction notice, where did I run? To my family. I should have apologized then and there, but the letter my father sent after Reese was born, saying I was not to bring my bastard child across his threshold? It stirred my anger afresh.”
Duncan shook his head. “It sounds as if you are as stubborn as your father. That letter was not well done of him. I noticed his imperious manner from the moment we met. Do you want to make it up with your family? I ask because, as flawed as your father may be, he did take you in and agreed to help you find a husband. He could have ignored your letter, or worse, sent you one saying that you were dead to him. But he did not.”
“No,” Augusta replied softly. “My father did not. And yes, I want us to be a family again. I hardly know my younger brother.” Tears gathered on her eyelashes. Duncan was right; she was as stubborn as her father. It was past time for everyone to put the past behind them.
“Then, my dear, once everything is settled, we will send your family an invitation to visit in the spring. Open a line of communication with your mother first. Write to her and tell her everything you told me. Write from your heart. Have her speak to your father. You are a duchess now. Reese will take my name. As far as society is concerned, you are part of the upper echelons, whatever that means. Apparently, it means quite a lot to your father. Ignoring your existence and that of your son would not reflect well on him in society’s eyes.
But more importantly, he should accept you regardless, because he loves you.
If he cannot, then have your mother and brother visit. It will be his loss.”
“Yes. I will. It is time.”
Duncan sipped his tea. “Telling me all this, has it helped?”
Did it? Prisilla was a dear friend, but she had never told her everything.
Why Duncan? They had only been married for a few days and had been acquainted for a few weeks.
Already, she felt a connection to this man.
Perhaps the bond was deeper and more intense than she cared to admit.
Was this what love was? A friendship that grew into a physical yet soul-altering union?
She had never experienced this before. Augusta’s heart raced.
Dear heaven, she was falling in love with her husband.
“Augusta? Are you well?”
The concern in his voice touched her. “Yes, I am well. To answer your question, talking about this has indeed helped.”
“By that logic, I should experience the same.”
“Exactly so.”
“Where did I leave off?”
“You and Mr. McGloin had transferred to the 8th Regiment of Foot in Upper Canada.”
“Ah. The assignment was relatively straightforward until the United States declared war on June 18th, ’12.
It wasn’t a complete surprise, as there had been years of trading and land disputes.
I assumed that the countries would work it out, but alas, they did not.
By the time Great Britain sent word of concessions, the war was already underway.
I have the devil’s own luck when it comes to battles, so I had hoped this would be a brief skirmish, if nothing else.
My duke uncle was mortified and ordered Jon home immediately.
He refused, telling his father that we were safe at the garrison in York.
It takes months for letters to arrive, so by the time the Americans attacked York in April of ’13, Jon hadn’t received a reply. ”
Augusta was completely caught up in the narrative. “I remember reading in the paper that the Americans burned and sacked the town of York.” She paused. “Dear heaven. Is that how you were injured?”
“You have the right of it. Jon and I were not on the front lines. The Americans outnumbered us, and after two days of fierce fighting and bombardment from their fleet, they were no more than 200 yards from the garrison and the government buildings. Jon and I were involved in a few clashes. We fired rifles from the battlements, but it was all for naught. Finally, the British surrendered. The details were still being worked out, and in the meantime, Jon and I were in Government House, packing what we could for our retreat to Kingston. Patrick was with us that day.”
Duncan paused and folded his arms. The horrible memories no doubt flooded his mind. Augusta stayed silent, giving him time to gather his thoughts.
“What caused the American soldiers to loot and plunder York?” Duncan finally continued.
“They certainly had not been ordered to do so, according to the American commanders, who stated as much after the fact. But in my mind, they did not do enough to rein their men in. Of course, there were reports of atrocities.”
“Oh, no,” Augusta gasped.
“It is an unfortunate part of war, usually on both sides. The Americans threw lighted torches on the roof of the government buildings, including the one we were in. We did not know it was burning, as the odor of fire was everywhere. It wasn’t until the floor above us started creaking.
Jon pushed me out of the way, and I fell across the threshold of the room when the ceiling collapsed on him, along with burning timbers and furniture from the offices above.
Jon was completely buried underneath.” Duncan’s eyes were glazed and haunted.
“I can still remember the screaming. The smell of burning flesh. I scrambled to my feet and tried to save him. Flaming debris fell from above. I could hardly breathe from the smoke. I didn’t care.
I tried to dig him out, but the fire was too intense.
Other soldiers were yelling at me to leave the room.
I heard Patrick say, ‘He’s gone!’ It was only then that I realized the agonized shrieks had stopped.
I tried to dig faster, but to no avail.”
“Oh, dear God,” Augusta whispered, picturing the tragic scene in her mind.
“An explosion, probably from the nearby ammunition stores, blew out the windows, and the air fed the fire. I was blown backward several feet across the doorway once again. The horrible smell lingered in my nostrils. Only when Patrick grabbed my arms and pulled me from the room did I realize the burning flesh was mine.”
Duncan’s voice had grown hoarse. He reached for his mug of tea and took a long gulp.
“I landed face down, my left side lying atop piles of burning wood. It was as if someone had held my face to a hot brazier. I am lucky my hair didn’t catch fire or that the injuries to my side weren’t worse.
I have a few burns on my left shoulder and arm.
And of course, this—” He pointed to the left side of his face. “Complete ruination.”
“Not complete ruination. You are here. Alive.”
The enamel mug dropped to the floor, and Duncan buried his face in his hands.
Augusta stood, then knelt in front of him.
“I am sorry about Jon. It is obvious you loved him as a brother. You did everything humanly possible to save him. In your heart, you must know this. You only feel guilty because you survived. I do not pretend to know what you have gone through, nor do I know your cousin. But surely Jon would want you to live your life to the fullest, as unburdened as possible.” She took his hands away from his face and kissed them.
“I believe that is something we should both try to achieve.”
Duncan looked up and caught her gaze. “I couldn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t say I am sorry.”
“It was an attack during a war. Jon’s first instinct was to save you.
He loved you. Your instinct was to save him.
You loved him. It is a horrible tragedy for you and your family.
” Augusta leaned in and kissed his scarred cheek.
“You will always carry this reminder of that horrid day, but I say again, do not blame yourself. Live your life. Start afresh. Jon would want that for you.”
Duncan laced his fingers through hers. “Yes. Jon would want that. We shall both endeavor to place the past behind us. Start afresh, as you say.”
“I am pleased to hear it.” With her free hand, she stroked his scarred cheek again. “The skin is not pulled as taut as I imagined it would be.”
“I had a competent physician. One surgeon wanted to cauterize the wounds, but Doctor Embry used lard, potato slices, and milk-and-bread poultices. He said it cooled the burned skin, protected it from the air, and kept the skin supple as it healed. Thank God he did not believe in bleeding to excess, either. It’s thanks to him that I have some movement on the left side of my face and can at least smile or frown to some extent.
And I was able to manage the pain without becoming addicted to opium or alcohol. ”
“Thank goodness for competent doctors.”
Duncan kissed her hand. “They are few and far between. All that looting and burning had a profound effect on York’s settlers.
It hardened them, especially their feelings toward the United States.
So much so that the following year, the local militias and British troops burned the White House and the Capitol building to their foundations.
Mark my words. British North America will be its own country—and soon. ”
“Did you like it there?” Augusta asked softly.
“I did, very much. The scenery is breathtaking. Watching the town of York grow on the shores of a great lake, I was tempted to stay, perhaps permanently.”
“But life had other plans.”
“Fate indeed, took a turn.”
Augusta smiled. “I am glad you told me. Are you?”
Duncan kissed her hand again. “I am.”
Augusta stood. “The sun is starting to set. You stay by the fire, and I will prepare some food. My ankle is much better today.” A soft woof emanated from the hearth. “And Lady is hungry as well.”
As Augusta headed to the root cellar, her heart swelled with emotions both thrilling and mystifying. Then again, maybe not as mystifying as she thought.