The Will of Time Page 28

  "Something else you should be aware of, Brant," Diamond was saying above the hum in Leia's ears. "Do you see the blonde lady sitting there?"

  Brant looked toward the woman in the chair, and nodded. Leia's heart seemed to stop. Oh, no. It couldn't be.

  "That's Leah Grahm, the widow from Baltimore. The real Leah."

  Patrick spoke up from his spot on the sofa. "How can that be? This here is the real Leah, you see. She's my niece."

  "And she played that role very well, sir. In that chair is your niece, Leah. Standing in front of me here is Belle Boyd's contact. She's a spy." Diamond leaned closer to Leia. "And Belle's in prison now, miss. I wouldn't expect to hear from her anytime soon."

  All bedlam seemed to break loose. Every voice in the room rose to a fevered pitch, in defense of, or attacking, Leia. The soldier that had spoken earlier strode to stand before the General.

  "There is one way to be certain, sir." All eyes turned to him, and the din lulled.

  "Go on." Diamond's voice was gruff. Could he be as displeased with these events as Leia?

  Through the mirage of faces that Leia saw in the room, it seemed this soldier, too, was uncomfortable as he spoke. As if he cared. As if he had anything at risk.

  "Well, the report is that the real Leah McGarland Grahm bears a birthmark about four inches below her naval, sir. It's a round mark her mother had as well." He looked pointedly at Leia's middle.

  "That's correct, sir," the blonde in the chair said. "But to prove I bear the mark could be rather, indelicate." Her voice quivered.

  Leia couldn't ask where he got his information, couldn't respond with horror at the implications, couldn't lift her skirts for these men. She could only fight to stay conscious, fight to keep her stomach inside her body. She never fainted. This couldn't be happening. Brant was her life-preserver, but even the best couldn't keep you afloat in such an all-consuming storm. With a final wave of what felt like ocean water drowning her, Leia slumped to the floor through Brant's arms.

  Chapter 19

  "You knew all along, didn't you?" Brant sat with his head on his arms, slumped over Patrick's desk. Inhaling the wood furniture smell would from now on remind him of this night. The house had cleared, but soldiers remained outside. The library, quiet as if mourning its earlier peace, provided Brant and Patrick a haven from the chaos.

  "Drink this," Patrick ordered, setting a brandy in front of Brant. He touched the younger man's shoulder, patting it a few times in a fatherly fashion.

  Brant straightened slowly, and pushed the drink away. "Thank you, but I need to keep alert. You didn't answer my question."

  Patrick sighed, and sat across the desk from him. "Did I know Belle was a spy? No. Did I know Leah wasn't really Leah Grahm? Yes."

  "Why didn't you say something? You let me marry her, for God's sake!" He rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the pressure. At Patrick's continued silence, he asked, "Why would you let me marry a woman whose identity was in question?"

  "There were several reasons, you see. For one, you love her. You loved her from the moment she interrupted our dinner that first night. I could see it in your eyes. For another, I knew she would work with you, help you with the traveling. She has more fire in her than my real niece will ever have, especially since the real niece in question will never stop grieving for her husband. I've no doubt of that. So the traveling Leah was the perfect woman for you, and I could see she was quite taken with you as well. We hadn't seen my niece since she was a small child, and the resemblance is obvious. Please don't pretend with me that you didn't know your wife was an imposter. You're more intelligent than that." Patrick refilled his own glass after delivering his speech.

  Brant was speechless.

  "What will you do now, son?" The quiet room echoed with the sound of Patrick's glass hitting the wood desk. It sounded as hollow as Brant felt.

  "I have an idea," Brant said, leaning across the table. What he was about to tell Patrick was for his ears only, and perhaps those of MaryKatherine.

  "I hoped you would."

  Leia awoke in her room, her mouth dry and pasty. What she wouldn't give for a capful of Scope mouthwash right now. She stretched, arms and legs extending in the narrow bed.

  Brant stood by the window, looking out at some unknown object or scene. His shoulders were slumped, his neck arched slightly. She'd never seen him look so dejected and it was her fault. He didn't deserve the trouble she'd brought to his life.

  "You're awake," he said, replacing the curtain panel he'd held. The heavy damask allowed little light through, making the room glow royal blue...as blue as he sounded.

  "Brant, what happens now?" she asked slowly, moving to a sitting position. Her mind was foggy on how she had gotten into the bed, but she clearly recalled the military accusations.

  He moved toward the bed, then as if on impulse, sat beside her. Pushing aside layers of covers, Brant made room to sit next to her, his hip pressing against hers. He must have undressed her, because only her chemise separated her white legs from his blue trousers. The scratchy wool rubbed through the flimsy cotton, irritating her skin as much as her situation irritated her.

  "We answer the questions, in the morning." He made the statement simple.

  She knew it wasn't simple. "They won't believe anything I say, will they?"

  He looked pained, his face drawn into tiny lines. "It would be unlikely. The General seems to have made up his mind about you and Belle."

  She knew most people would assume the same. "Did you know about her?" Leia couldn't keep the edge from her tone. "That she was a spy?"

  The lines grew deeper, becoming furrows on his sculpted face. "I had no idea. I thought she was looking for a husband, not Federal secrets. Torin doesn't know, and I'm sure the McGarlands didn't. Until now."

  "And there she was, spying on you all that time. Did Belle know about the slaves?" Leia hoped she hadn't brought more problems down on McGarland heads.

  Brant shook his head and reached for her hand. He pulled it loose from the bed covers she was busy rumpling. "I don't think so. I've never shared that with anyone outside the McGarland family, who had to know since they live here. No one has made me even begin to trust them, not since..."

  "Not since Margaret?" She had to ask, aware of how green-eyed she sounded.

  "You mean more to me than she ever did, Leia. I know less about you and your family, but I love you like I've known you forever." He clasped her hand over his heart. "Margaret would never have helped me free the slaves." He laughed, but it sounded bitter. "She would have wanted them to be taken to BlueBell Ridge."

  "Would Belle?"

  "Only if it would have served her own traitorous cause. I do hope she doesn't mention the cellar door when they question her, if she hasn't already."

  Leia's head snapped up. "Oh God, she was there. She saw it all...when Torin and Jason disappeared."

  "She has a lot more to worry about, Leia, than one cellar door. She's been trading information to the south for years, they say. We found out she's already seen prison twice. Unless she decides to plead insanity, she won't mention people disappearing through a doorway. It's not likely she'll claim to be crazy, either. That fate would be worse than any prison. This way, at least she's a hero to the South."

  "I'm scared," Leia said, pulling her knees up to her chest. Hugging herself for comfort, she looked up at the ceiling so the tears she fought couldn't slip down her cheek.

  "I know. We'll just answer the questions honestly and everything will come out fine. We've done nothing wrong." Then he dropped his voice to a whisper, and he held a finger to her lips. "I have a plan."

  A flicker of hope, very dim, made Leia sit straighter and release her knees. "Yes?"

  "Stay quiet, in case someone's listening. Patrick and I worked it out, hoping no one overheard. In a few hours, when everyone's asleep, we are to meet Hettie in the cellar. It has to be very dark. We can't chance a light. Do you understand?" He paused to let her a
bsorb his meaning.

  She swallowed, knowing she couldn't afford to let a phobia deter her now. As if her flicker had been turned up by a dimmer-switch, she felt more hopeful. "Brant, I've tried to find the door. You know that. It's never worked to let me through after that first time. What if we can't find it?"

  "Hettie controls the door. I thought you knew that," he said, speaking so softly she wished she could read lips. "She's going to help us, but she can't go through herself, or the door's gone forever."

  "How does she know that?"

  "How does she control the door? How does she understand its rules? Who knows? All that matters now is getting you through it before dawn. Hettie's prepared. The guards are stationed one on each side of the house. They don't expect any problems from us, but perhaps they expect Belle's allies to show up. The General's in his usual guest room."

  "What if he wakes up?"

  "Our emergency plan would take over. MaryKatherine will be waiting in the hall while we go downstairs. She's prepared to, um, distract the General, if needed, with tears, or wiles, or whatever it takes to give us time."

  Leia sucked in a deep breath. What was she costing this family? "Brant, I need to know. Did Belle tell the Union that I, or any of the McGarlands, helped her?"

  "Not as far as I'm aware."

  "So it's strictly guilt-by-association, then."

  He looked at her. "In a way, yes. If you hadn't come after me that night, there might be less evidence against you now."

  "I don't call any of this evidence. It's circumstantial at best, and I'm really sorry I followed you, too. My mistake." She had lost her cool.

  "That's not what I meant." He took her chin in his hand, turning it so she had to meet his eyes. "Your love means everything. I just didn't realize it then, but I did know from the first time I kissed you it wouldn't be easy for us."

  "But you thought the extent of our problems would be finding a way to live and feed ourselves after the war, should I prove loyal enough to love you for who you are, not what you have."

  "That seemed very important at the time. I felt concerned about my honor, or pride, because of being betrayed, and then because I couldn't provide for a family."

  "And now?" She prodded him with a gentle hand, having waited so long to hear this.

  "Now...now all I want is freedom for us to be together. That's all that really matters."

  "I have to ask you something else, and then I promise no more questions."

  "For a while."

  "Right...For a while. I need to know this before, or in case, they get to question me. Did you say anything to the General about your mistrust of me, that night at the camp? Did he know about the suspicions you had before you came to know me?" She held her breath.

  "No. I told him we had disagreed, and that I had sent you away. Mostly I told him I was concerned for your safety, and disgusted with myself for sending you off like that. I shouldn't have done that, no matter what I thought at the time, and Diamond agreed. He was put out with me and concerned for you then as well."

  "Then?" she asked, well aware of the answer.

  "Then. He was concerned for you then."

  She only nodded, having expected the answer. Now he was concerned only with her as his scapegoat.

  "Are you ready? We leave soon."

  "I need to put my own shoes on, and the underwear I had on when I arrived. I wouldn't want anyone to find it."

  "What about your dress?"

  "It's the black one in the wardrobe." She chuckled. "The only black one I kept once we got married."

  "I remember telling you to save them, in case you were widowed again."

  "Was that before or after you found out I was a virgin?" She used a teasing tone, ruffling his hair with her hand.

  He reached for her then, slipping the cotton straps of her chemise from her shoulders. When he'd worked the soft material down to Leia's hips, he buried his nose between her breasts. She sighed, enjoying the instant tightening of her inner core.

  "You are so shapely, so plush and womanly," he said, his words muffled by her body. No one had ever said that type of thing to her before, especially when talking about her breasts.

  He moved lower, pushing the chemise down her body and onto the floor. When she was nude, he pulled her legs to the edge of the bed and knelt between them. She began to protest, pushing up on her elbows and taking his face with her hands.

  "You're beautiful," he said, pulling free from her hands and staring down at her with lusty eyes. His voice sounded gruff, raw to her.

  "Brant, please come up here and kiss me," she said, embarrassed.

  "I will, but first I'm going to kiss you down here. Your golden petals are blooming, Leia, and you smell like a fresh rose, damp with dew," he told her, instantly dissolving her concerns. This man could have been a diplomat. So who was she to argue?

  She laid back and enjoyed the negotiations.

  Too soon, Brant pulled his trousers on, urging her to don her underwear and dress. Leia drew a deep gulp of air, wanting to remember everything about this time, in case something went wrong in the cellar. She wanted to remember the musky, male scent when her head was on his chest, and the smell of the oil lamp that illuminated their lovemaking.

  Her own shoes felt tight after wearing MaryKatherine's soft slippers. She propped a foot on the chair to tie the laces and Brant came from behind her, strong arms circling her.

  "We have to go," he said, bracing her waist while she tied the other shoe.

  "Let's do it." She followed him from the room, certain he had carefully assessed the hall. MaryKatherine, as promised, was waiting in the dark. Leia found her by touch, and pulled her close for a hug.

  "I'll miss you," MaryKatherine said, "I'll take care of Scruffy. You take care, whatever happens."

  "I'll miss you, too. You've been the sister I never had. Thanks for everything. And please thank Martha and Patrick for me. They've been like grandparents." She pulled away after whispering her heartfelt goodbyes in MaryKatherine's ear.

  Clinging to Brant's arm and the banister, Leia made it down the front stairs. With each step she lifted her feet high, placing them lightly on the floor to be certain of where she walked. The house was dark and silent, as if already mourning their departure. She couldn't believe that just a few hours ago the house had been like a military court room. Now it was as quiet as a...raffle drawing right before they chose the winner.

  In the blackness, Leia could picture both the nineteenth and twentieth century furnishings and how they would be laid out. She shivered, aware they had reached the dining room...and then she froze.

  From above, MaryKatherine's feminine voice was engaged in small talk. Flirtatious small talk.

  "...just said those things so Uncle Patrick wouldn't think I was too forward...and you really did touch me, after all, yes, I like it...oh, touch me there again..." MaryKatherine giggled.

  Leia couldn't move. She waited, listening, horrified by what her friend had to do...for her. A hollow thud silenced MaryKatherine, and Leia was certain she'd been pushed up against the wall. Did the General have his hands on her now?

  Brant pulled on her, "She can handle him. If she can't, all she has to do is scream and the whole house will be in the hallway. She knows it. And we can't be standing here if that happens."

  He was right, but she didn't like taking advantage of her friend like this. At her protest, Brant held firm. They had to get to the portal before it was too late, and MaryKatherine's efforts would have been for naught.

  Brant squeezed her hand. "We're going down the cellar stairs. Don't lose your balance."

  She nodded, but knew he couldn't see her in the dark. She grasped his upper arm, took the handrail with the other, and pulled the cellar door closed behind her. "Wait, Brant, my cabinet..."

  "Forget it. I'll make you another one." He guided her down the steps, gentle, but firm.

  Hettie waited for them, shoulders slumped, nearly invisible at the foot of the stairs. She
said nothing, just guided them further into the desolate nothingness, her pace slower than normal as she led them further away from the time period Leia thought of as history. Humidity hung in the air, cooler and sharper below ground level.

  Leia fought back nausea, telling herself that nerves were normal under such circumstances. She couldn't think about MaryKatherine right now. Though she knew only sixty seconds or so had passed, she felt as if she'd been wandering in the darkness for hours. Without her sense of sight, she lifted her feet higher than necessary. Black seemed to whirl around her, giving the illusion of floor where there was none.

  "There," Hettie said, turning Brant's shoulders sharply right. Her breathing tore ragged from her lungs, but she stood straight. Brant turned Leia so the three of them faced a staircase topped by a doorway so dimly outlined Leia feared she was imagining it.

  "Hettie," Brant whispered, "why didn't you tell me how ill you are?"

  "Wouldn't do no good, Mista Brant. The door just keeps gettin' dimmer and dimmer. Can't get what I need in this year, you know."

  "What does she need? What are you talking about?" Leia asked, suddenly worried about Hettie too, on top of her concern for MaryKatherine, overlapping her fears for her and Brant's fate. She could scarcely breath in the heavy, wet air.

  "Nothing, Miz Leah," Hettie said, "Don't worry about me."

  Brant touched Hettie's arm. "Do you know what you need? Is it available then?"

  "I believe so. I heard some talk from travelers one time. But it's too late."

  "You have to come with us. It's the only way." Brant turned to Leia. "Hettie needs to come forward with us, to get medical attention."

  "But she won't consider it because that means no more slaves can escape," Leia said, suddenly understanding. "Hettie, you've helped so many. Now you must help yourself."

  Brant grasped an upper arm of each woman and started up the narrow staircase. Leia turned sideways to accommodate the trio, testing each step before planting her full weight on them. The wooden planks groaned under them. Halfway up, a noise from the cellar stopped them cold.