Read Online Shadows of Doubt by Elizabeth Johns - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Johns
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felt an unhealthy measure of protectiveness, but she had no one. He had asked his father and his grandmother to look after her, and he trusted that they would. And he would have to make sure that his time away from her was short. How hard could it be to find a steward and a carpenter? He would literally rebuild the house himself if that was what was necessary in order to return to Miss Lambert. It might be only be a one-roomed house....
He still had work to do to convince her he was in earnest. He pulled out his pen and paper. He would write to her as often as possible, or as long as his ink and paper supply lasted. He would not allow her to forget him or to second-guess his feelings for her. Perhaps they would pass some returning ships and he could send his letters sooner. He wished he could have seen her smile when she’d read his first letter. He could just hear her laughing, attributing a name to him such as ridiculous or impossible, and her kissable dimples would wink at him.
Miss Lambert,
I am happy to report that I have survived an entire day aboard ship. That leaves an unthinkable number of days until I arrive. I sought passage on the fastest ship I could find, but the captain tells me it will take at least three weeks regardless, even if the winds are favourable. Heaven help me, for the sea makes me green. I know it dampens your ardour to hear thus of me. But please pray for calm seas, though enough wind to push the sails at record pace...
I have become very well acquainted with the side rails and deck. They do not speak much except to mock me. Until I may write again.
Your obedient servant,
Andrew Abbott
He arrived after four weeks at sea. He thanked the captain, the heavens, and kissed the dirty American landing when he set foot on it. He'd heard horror stories of folk taking several months to reach the Americas, and was grateful for his miserably short trip. He immediately hired a horse and set off southward for River’s Bend, instead of finding a small boat to row onto the property. If he never saw a boat again it would be too soon. He thought he remembered the direction. If nothing else, he would follow the river.
It was a warm day, and the smells in the air were sweet from the fragrant foliage of honeysuckle and jasmine which wafted to his nose from the breeze. It felt magnificent to be on horseback again. He dreaded the return, but he would not dwell on that until it was time. By then, he would gladly suffer the sea to be with Miss Lambert again.
It was a short ride, one that his father and sister had made almost daily. He pulled through the gates after the refreshing gallop, but he wasn't prepared for the sight before him. The entire façade of the house was demolished. Some rebuilding had taken place, and some of the structure held a framework for future repairs to come, but most of the house looked uninhabitable. He felt sick and disgusted. This had been done out of an act of retaliation because of the anger towards the British after they burnt Washington. There were so many barbaric acts that came after battles—few of them resulted from rational thought. He had seen them time and again, whether from soldiers scuffling in the barracks, seeking out women and drink, or worse as had happened after the battle at Cuidad Rodrigo.
He dismounted and tied his horse to the tree. The workers must all be in the fields, for there was no sign of life in the ruin of the house. He was thankful Elly was not here to see this. She had suffered enough. He could not believe the damage done, and it had been three years. Three years, and it appeared little to no work had been done.
He stepped gingerly into the entryway, where beams stood to hold up the rear wing of the house which had not fallen. The front half of the house was only a frame. It looked as though some care had been taken to clean away the ashes and soot, and a portion of the house appeared to be partially intact, at least. He stopped, and
He still had work to do to convince her he was in earnest. He pulled out his pen and paper. He would write to her as often as possible, or as long as his ink and paper supply lasted. He would not allow her to forget him or to second-guess his feelings for her. Perhaps they would pass some returning ships and he could send his letters sooner. He wished he could have seen her smile when she’d read his first letter. He could just hear her laughing, attributing a name to him such as ridiculous or impossible, and her kissable dimples would wink at him.
Miss Lambert,
I am happy to report that I have survived an entire day aboard ship. That leaves an unthinkable number of days until I arrive. I sought passage on the fastest ship I could find, but the captain tells me it will take at least three weeks regardless, even if the winds are favourable. Heaven help me, for the sea makes me green. I know it dampens your ardour to hear thus of me. But please pray for calm seas, though enough wind to push the sails at record pace...
I have become very well acquainted with the side rails and deck. They do not speak much except to mock me. Until I may write again.
Your obedient servant,
Andrew Abbott
He arrived after four weeks at sea. He thanked the captain, the heavens, and kissed the dirty American landing when he set foot on it. He'd heard horror stories of folk taking several months to reach the Americas, and was grateful for his miserably short trip. He immediately hired a horse and set off southward for River’s Bend, instead of finding a small boat to row onto the property. If he never saw a boat again it would be too soon. He thought he remembered the direction. If nothing else, he would follow the river.
It was a warm day, and the smells in the air were sweet from the fragrant foliage of honeysuckle and jasmine which wafted to his nose from the breeze. It felt magnificent to be on horseback again. He dreaded the return, but he would not dwell on that until it was time. By then, he would gladly suffer the sea to be with Miss Lambert again.
It was a short ride, one that his father and sister had made almost daily. He pulled through the gates after the refreshing gallop, but he wasn't prepared for the sight before him. The entire façade of the house was demolished. Some rebuilding had taken place, and some of the structure held a framework for future repairs to come, but most of the house looked uninhabitable. He felt sick and disgusted. This had been done out of an act of retaliation because of the anger towards the British after they burnt Washington. There were so many barbaric acts that came after battles—few of them resulted from rational thought. He had seen them time and again, whether from soldiers scuffling in the barracks, seeking out women and drink, or worse as had happened after the battle at Cuidad Rodrigo.
He dismounted and tied his horse to the tree. The workers must all be in the fields, for there was no sign of life in the ruin of the house. He was thankful Elly was not here to see this. She had suffered enough. He could not believe the damage done, and it had been three years. Three years, and it appeared little to no work had been done.
He stepped gingerly into the entryway, where beams stood to hold up the rear wing of the house which had not fallen. The front half of the house was only a frame. It looked as though some care had been taken to clean away the ashes and soot, and a portion of the house appeared to be partially intact, at least. He stopped, and
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