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“’Twould be an honor, Major. But…” She could feel her cheeks flushing with heat. “I am ashamed at the size of our kitchen. ’Tis unfit for such fine company.”
“Not at all, Miss Young. Do not trouble yourself with such trivialities.” He stepped backward, glancing between them. “I shall send word to the Pitmans immediately.” Circling back to the parlor, he gestured to Joseph with a nod. “Come with me. I shall need a full report from you. I do not wish to cause your cousin any greater distress by having to relate again what she’s suffered.”
“Aye, sir.”
Joseph bowed slightly and offered Hannah a concerned look before following Stockton out the house.
There, alone, surrounded only by the silent furnishings, Hannah’s legs lost their strength. She reached for a chair and sank onto its safety, folding over the table, with her head on her arm. Of all the times she’d been foolish, of all the choices she’d made that were impetuous and gross, this defeated all those with fantastic idiocy.
Grief-induced action was one thing. Spying another. But agreeing to spend any time with Joseph was beyond her scope of understanding. Why had she done it? She pushed up, staring blankly at the center platter. Ensign did not die in vain, and ’twas she who must make it so. Elbows on the table, she groaned and put her face in her hands.
How was she to resist the pull of such a man? One for whom she’d loved and lost—one for whom her heart still reached? These two weeks would pass like a lifetime. Yet despite the risk, the longing that pressed upward beneath its shallow covering warned that it could not easily be contained. She knew, despite her efforts, despite the risk, their duty must be fulfilled, their work completed. There was no circumventing the days ahead. She had to go through them, and pray her heart was not in tatters at the end.
* * *
Tufts of dark smoke drifted lazily from the smithy’s chimney, carving a thick path through the cloud-covered sky. Philo hurried across the street in front of a passing horse and wagon, preparing his most gracious smile. Clumps of dirty snow lined the road, and puddles of icy water dotted the pathway he tried to navigate. Slipping down the small alley beside the blacksmith shop, Philo rounded the corner to find the back door slightly ajar.
At the anvil, Leo pounded against a long strip, orange flecks jumping with every whack.
Unseen, Philo reexamined his practiced speech before entering. He rubbed one hand with the other. The soldier he and Maxim had tried to bait turned over nothing of value, but one fact remained. Joseph had given his shop at the same time Ensign had sold his, and the timing was too conspicuous to overlook. He prayed this fellow would divulge what information the other soldier had not.
Ease well in place, he strode in. “Leo. Good day to you.”
Halting midstroke, Leo grinned slightly. Civil, but nothing more. “Reverend Young. What brings you here?”
“I understand congratulations are in order.”
Leo’s face went slack, and the brightness left his cheeks. “Aye?”
“This smithy is yours now, is it not?”
“Oh.” The color returned in an instant, and he released a held breath.
Had he feared Philo might say something of Caroline?
“Aye, sir, ’tis true. I’m pleased indeed to have it.”
Philo glanced around, sure to mold surprise and satisfaction in the corners of his mouth and eyes. “Quite a well-managed arrangement, I must say.”
Leo went back to his pounding. “Joseph is a remarkable blacksmith. Meticulous to a fault and far more talented than I will ever be able to boast, though I shall try.”
“You do him too great a credit.” Why did everyone fawn over the man? He was no saint. A devil in sheep’s clothing, more like.
Eyes darting him a sideways look, Leo brought the piece back to the forge and shoved it into the coals. “I give credit where it’s due.”
“Where is he then? I mean…” Philo pretended ignorance. “Why would he leave his shop? ’Tis clear he loves his work.”
“He’s off to lend his hand to Washington like so many others.” He yanked on the bellows. “I should go myself, but Mother and the girls need care. Father says I cannot be spared.” There was a thread of enmity in his voice. Was not the man old enough to make such decisions for himself?
Philo shrugged the thought down his back. “So Joseph will return after the war, is that it?”
Leo brought the radiating glow back to the anvil and once again began pounding. He remained silent as he hammered, then quickly bent the metal at a straight angle and dunked it into a trough of water, the metal hissing and steaming at its sudden bath.
“He’s not coming back, ’cept to take Jacob to his new home.”
The answer teetered just out of reach. He choked back the runaway thrill. “And where is that?”
Leo shrugged. “I know not. He wouldn’t share it with me, and such a question wasn’t mine to ask.”
