“Esther! I am sendingyou.” He touched her chin and raised her face. “You know full well I cannot send Isaac alone. Would you risk his life to make yours more at ease? To win this argument?”
“Then when am I coming home?”
“I do not know.”
“Will Slathersby Hill remain? Sassy said—”
“Mercy, I’m worn to the bone.” Father squeezed her hand. “Can you not just do as I bid? That will greatly ease my burden.”
Well, then, there was nothing more to say. Her pleading was of no consequence. “I will do as you bid, Father. I love you.”
“And I you, Esther. And I you.”
“Esther?”
She whirled at the sound of a masculine voice. A man stood at the library door. The same one she had encountered in Hamilton’s room at the surgeon’s. “It’s time to leave. Come, follow me.”
Startled, she peered at Father. Did he know this man? This intruder? But her father remained undisturbed, staring toward the window, his hand slowly slipping from Esther’s.
She turned back to the mystery guest. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“For you to follow me.”
His voice, his countenance, his presence purchased her deepest fears, and she knew at once he must be obeyed. Gone were the cold emotions from the war, the house, and Father. She embraced a radiating peace.
“To where, my Lord?”
But he did not answer. He merely turned and walked away. This was going to be a journey of faith.
Father said his final good-bye at the library door. At the carriage, Esther bid Sassy a tearful good-bye, then drew Kitch into a sisterly hug. “You are the closest thing to a sibling I’ve ever had. Take care and stick to your learning.”
He squeezed her tight. “I’ll miss you, Miss Esther. Won’t be the same without you.”
“Off with you now, Kitch,” Sassy said, wiping her cheeks. “Let Miss Esther and your pa go. They must meet the second coachman along the way.”
But Esther had a detour in mind, and as Isaac aided her into the carriage, she whispered, “Quill Farm, please. I must say goodbye.”
The carriage swayed from side-to-side, hitting every rut in the road as Esther imagined what she might say to Hamilton.
She’d not seen him since the day at the surgeon’s. Mrs. Lightfoot had kept him away, healing, for nearly six weeks. They’d only just returned to Ninety Six.
Hamilton had not written to her, and Esther battled with the truth. He meant to put her off. He’d withdrawn his love. The war had changed him.
“Whoa.” Isaac drew the horses to a halt at the front of the Lightfoots’ home.
“I’ll only be a moment,” she said, squeezing his hand as she exited the carriage.
Her three short raps on the door were answered immediately by Mrs. Lightfoot.
“Esther.”
“Good morning. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’ve come to say good-bye.”
“Oh?” She did not flinch or move aside to invite Esther in. She appeared weary and worn, her hair uncombed and her apron stained. “Where are you bound?”
“London. Father is sending me home. To tend to some business on his behalf.”
“Hamilton is sleeping.”
