“I need to speak with Father.” Esther handed Sassy her cup, kicking her legs over the side of the bed.
“Hold on there, young lady.” Sassy gently pushed her back. “You ain’t going nowheres. You’re confined to your bed until the fever is broke. I’ll send Sir Michael to see you.” She plumped the pillows and spread a sheet over Esther’s thin gown. “I’ll bring up the broth. You need your nourishment.”
When Sassy had gone, Esther scooted out of bed to go to the window but found she was too weak to stand. Purple and blue spots floated before her eyes, and she reached for the bed as she collapsed.
“Esther, what are you doing up?” Father entered with the fragrance of pipe tobacco and gently righted her against her pillows.
“I wanted to see outside.” Esther closed her eyes, drawing a deep breath, the grip in her shoulder running all the way to her toes.
“My dear, you will have plenty of time to see the out-of-doors. First you must recover.” Father pulled a chair forward, then sat beside her bed with his pipe anchored on the edge of his lips. “My darling, what a fright you have given me.” He cupped his hand under hers. “What would I do without you?”
“I’m still here.” She searched his face, absorbing the devotion she saw there. “No need to look so worried. I heard you argue with Lieutenant Twimball.”
“He was careless.”
“He shot me, Father.”
“Did you see him? He claims Lightfoot played the coward and hid behind you.”
“I heard a shot, turned, and before my eyes, Twimball aimed his musket at me. Hamilton came to my rescue.” She had a faint memory of him speaking to her, lifting her from the ground.
“Don’t think on it, love. Just rest. We can sort out the matter when you are well.”
“But you are angry with Hamilton.”
“I’m angry with all the rebel rabble.”
“What has happened between us and the Lightfoots? Can we not make amends?”
“Here we are,” Sassy said as she entered with a tray. “Did youtell her, Sir Michael, it were Mr. Lightfoot what done brought her home?” She settled the tray over Esther’s legs. “Carried you all the way in his arms, he did. Like a real hero.”
“Sassy, please, you paint too bright a picture of the young man,” Father said.
Esther tried in earnest to sit up. “Yes, he carried me. I remember.”
“But now you are home, safe with me.” Father thumped his chest. “Father, daughter—the best of friends. Stay close to me, my girl, and my Brown Bess shall take care of anyone who tries to bring you harm.” Father’s eyes glistened. “I may be too old for this war, but not to be your warrior.”
“Father, of course you shall always be my warrior.” Esther hesitated, then said, “But please, if Hamilton comes, may I see him? He did rescue me.”
Father drew back and lit his pipe, drawing deep, loud puffs. “’Tis not a conversation for this hour. You must eat and rest. You lost a great deal of blood, and we must see to your recovery.” He kissed her forehead. “I’ve work to attend.”
“Father?” He turned at the door. “What has happened? You spend hours upon hours in the library bent over your ledgers, writing letters. Has something gone amiss?”
“Just the business of owning property and business ventures. Do not concern yourself at all—”
“You appear tired. Look in the glass. The crease between your eyes has deepened. You need a holiday, Father. A rest. It will do you good. Perhaps a week in Charles Town—”
“What will do me good is to work and see you on your feet again. Now, eat and I’ll come in to say good night.”
Esther finished her broth as Sassy entered to change her bandage. “If Hamilton comes, let him in, Sassy.”
“Don’t know about letting him in.” She pulled a slip of folded stationery from her pocket. “But I can certainly pass this along.”
11
CHLOE
Dressed in a sundress and flip-flops, her hair in a loose braid, Chloe descended the stairs from her bedroom into her apartment’s small kitchen. She poured a glass of tomato juice and wandered to the bay window overlooking the back lawn.
