Another Country (33 page)

More beams were falling, scattering hot ash and
embers in their wake.

“When the flames reach the money,” Rupert gasped,
“the building will go up in seconds.”

“What of Caroline?” Ian demanded. “What if he was
lying, and she’s here?”

“Ian...” Henry shook his head. “We can’t take that
risk. No one would get alive if we went searching every room in
this place!”

“I could--”

“No, you couldn’t.” Henry pointed behind them. Bills
had caught fire, and the building was nearly engulfed in flames.
“Now help me get Rupert out of here, before we all turn to
cinders!”

Ian nodded, a new bleakness in his eyes, and grimly
focused on the doorway ahead of them. His lungs burned, his eyes
stung so that he could barely see, and he’d already brushed sparks
from his coat with blistered hands.

Finally they stumbled into the street, choking and
gasping for breath.

“Is he gone?” Rupert demanded, bent over, his broken
arm cradled against him. “Dearborn... he must have escaped... he’s
long gone by now.”

Ian shook his head, and closed his eyes briefly. “I
don’t know.”

“Look.” Henry pointed to a window on the second
story. A man stood there, a dark shadow silhouetted against the
flames. He was clutching packets of bills and screaming in
terror.

“Save me!” Dearborn shouted. “For pity’s
sake...”

Instinctively, they started forward, but it was far
too late. Even as they heard the echo of Dearborn’s desperate plea,
the supporting beams of the warehouse collapsed, and he fell
backwards into the fire.

Ian, Henry, and Rupert stood there, silent and
stunned, while the ash of thousands of counterfeit bills drifted
down on them in a gentle rain.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

It was well after midnight by the time the three men
reached Ian’s house. A light flickered in the front window, and as
they approached the door Eleanor’s pale, anxious face appeared by
the curtains.

She threw open the door before any of them touched
the handle, her shawl thrown carelessly over her nightdress, her
hair tumbling about her shoulders.

“What has happened?” she demanded in a voice both
querulous and near tears. “Caroline Reid arrived here a few hours
ago, beside herself with fear, and her gown torn! And now
you...”

“Caroline’s here?” Ian demanded, his voice hoarse.
“Oh, thank heaven. I was afraid... afraid she’d...” he grabbed
Eleanor by the shoulders. “Where is she?”

Eleanor opened her mouth to answer, but then she saw
Rupert, still holding his hurt arm, and gasped. “Rupert! What has
happened to you? You’re hurt... again?” Quick as a flash she turned
to Ian. “You went with him, didn’t you, to find the counterfeiters?
And look what has happened!”

“It’s over, Eleanor,” Rupert said gently. “We found
them.”

“I can see that plainly,” Eleanor snapped. “For how
else would your arm get hurt?” She looked ready to rage, but the
life seemed to sag out of her and her shoulders slumped. “You’d
better all come in... there’s a fire in the front parlor. I’ll send
your man to go for the doctor.”

She ushered them in, issuing instructions with a
brisk manner that belied the fear shadowing her eyes.

Ian stood in the doorway of his parlor, gazing at
Caroline. She stood by the fire, her face pale, eyes wide, the
lovely gown she wore torn at the shoulder. There was a bit of dirt
on her cheek.

“Caroline,” he breathed. “Oh, Caroline.” And without
another word, he moved towards her, hands outstretched. As
naturally as if she’d always intended to, Caroline fell into his
arms.

Rupert, Henry, and Eleanor regarded the warm
embrace, varying expressions of surprise, delight, and bemusement
on their faces.

“Well,” Eleanor said after a moment, “and that’s
quite a welcome!”

“I feared for your life,” Ian said quietly. “I was
afraid you were in the warehouse, with Dearborn. Riddell
said...”

“I got away,” Caroline said quietly. “I ran from the
house when I realized. He took me in his carriage, but I jumped out
and ran again. He didn’t follow me.” Her eyes widened. “Ian, he is
a criminal!” She stopped suddenly and looked at him. “But how do
you know? And where have you been?”

As quickly as he could, Ian explained the
circumstances leading to their confrontation with Dearborn at the
warehouse. “And he’s gone, poor soul,” he finished quietly. “I
suppose he went back for the money. His greed proved the death of
him, in the end.”

“Forgery,” Caroline said wonderingly. “I knew it was
something, but to think...! And what shall happen to my uncle?”

“He most likely will escape the arm of the law,”
Henry said. “Since he is titled and wealthy, and what evidence we
might have had was destroyed in the fire. I imagine he will make a
quick and quiet retreat to Scotland, but I’m afraid, Caroline, that
he is quite ruined. What little money he had was tied up with
Dearborn. If he sells his assets, perhaps there might be a small
stipend...”

Caroline shook her head. “I don’t care about that.
Of course, I’m sorry for my uncle, but...” she bit her lip. “All I
really want is you, Ian.”

“I’m a poor doctor,” Ian warned her. “With little
wealth or property...”

“That matters naught to me.”

“Are you sure?”

Caroline expelled a shaky breath. “When my uncle was
forcing me to marry Matthew Dearborn, I realized he was bargaining
my life away, and for his own gain. If I’d made the agreement with
Dearborn, to be his wife, his trinket, then I would have sold my
very soul for what wealth he might give me. That was not a bargain
I was prepared to make.” She smiled at him, her eyes shining with
both tears and happiness. “You are what I want, Ian. Not what
wealth or property you bring.”

Ian drew her to him, and Eleanor looked away. She
found her eyes meeting Rupert’s speculative gaze. Even with his arm
broken, his face burned and his eyebrows singed, he looked
wonderful to her. She wondered if their own love could survive the
trials as simply as Ian and Caroline’s seemed to.

A knock sounded on the door, and Eleanor took the
opportunity to bustle away. “That will be the doctor. And Rupert
must be seen--get him in bed, Henry!”

The rest of the night passed in a flurry of seeing
to the men’s burns. The doctor set Rupert’s arm, telling him
cheerfully that it was a clean break and should, God willing, mend
quickly.

It was only in the morning, with pale sunlight
streaming onto the faded carpet of her bedroom, that Eleanor
decided to speak to Rupert.

“He’s asked you to marry him,” she told her
reflection. “hold onto that.” Yet his words about
accepting--marrying--all of him echoed in her mind. What did he
mean? What future could they have?

A few moments later, she pushed open the door to
Rupert’s room. He lay in bed, his hair dark against the pillow.
Eleanor hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to wake him. Just as
she was about to leave, Rupert’s eyes flickered open.

“Don’t go.”

Eleanor smiled, but did not move forward. “You need
your rest.”

“I’m fine.”

Tears crowded her eyes and stung her throat. She
blinked them away. “For now, perhaps.”

“Eleanor?” Rupert looked at her cautiously.

“How often are you going to put yourself in danger?”
Eleanor asked. She felt a deep misery at even having to ask the
question, yet the answer tormented her.

“Not very often, I hope.” Rupert smiled wryly.

“Rupert, don’t joke, please. Not now. I... I need to
know.”

“Come here.” He beckoned to the side of the bed, and
Eleanor came forward slowly. “You know I love you?” he asked when
she had perched on the edge of the bed, her fingers kneading the
counterpane.

“Yes...”

“And you love me.”

“Yes, of course I do, but--”

“I want to be a marshal,” Rupert said quietly.
Eleanor’s eyes widened. “I saw how Dearborn used the law for his
own gain. If he hadn’t died, we might have got him in the end, but
most likely he would have escaped with a slapped wrist. That’s not
right, Eleanor. That’s not justice.”

“You’re one man...”

“Oh, I’m not expecting to change the whole system,”
Rupert said with a smile. “I’m not a crusader. But someone has to
start to make changes, one person at a time. I want to make a
difference, and I suppose I’m vain enough to think I can.” He took
a deep breath. “But last night, when we were in that old warehouse,
surrounded by flames, death seemed only a few footsteps away, and I
realized something.” He paused, his voice hoarse. “I realized that
pursuing that dangerous dream doesn’t matter nearly as much to me
as you do. So, say the word, and I won’t.”

“What do you mean?” Eleanor whispered.

“I won’t become a marshal if you do not wish it,”
Rupert said. “I could keep working for Henry. We could settle in
Boston. You matter more to me, Eleanor.”

Eleanor swiped at the tear that slid helplessly down
her cheek. “You would give that up... for me?”

“There is no question of it.”

In that moment, Eleanor knew she
loved Rupert more deeply that she’d even imagined... loved all of
him. And she could not--would not want to--deny him the dream, the
gift, he’d been given. “I think,” she said slowly, a tremulous
smile on her lips, “that we might start making changes
two
people at a time. I
want to be with you, Rupert. All of you.”

Silently, gratitude shining in his eyes, Rupert
lifted her fingers to his lips.

The Boston Commons were bursting with flowers and
bird song as the two families gathered by Christ Church.

A little over fifty years ago, the church sexton had
hung two lanterns in the bell tower to signal the military's
movements for Paul Revere. Now, however, the church was full of
laughter and chatter as it emptied out of wedding guests.

Caroline and Ian, newly married, clasped hands on
the steps of the church. Harriet, holding baby Archie in her arms,
Maggie, Anna and George clustered around her, blinked back tears.
She hadn’t seen her brother for over ten years, and the sight of
him as a man, and married at that, was near to overwhelming. Allan
put his arm around her.

“Did you ever think we would be gathered like this,
and in Boston!” he marvelled.

“I’d always hoped,” Harriet said softly. “When Ian
left all those years ago, as a ship’s boy of all things! I’d feared
we’d never see each other again. If Father could have...” she
trailed off, a shadow of sadness in her eyes.

“I think that way of Archie as well,” Allan said
quietly. “And my father. We’ve lost so many, and yet...” he glanced
down at little Archie, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“I’m thankful,” he finished simply. “I’m surely thankful.”

Ian approached them, Caroline at his side.
“Harriet... it’s so good to see you here, to have you with us on
this day. I’ve dreamed of us being together again.”

“So have I.” Harriet smiled warmly.

“And this little fellow!” Ian glanced down at baby
Archie. “A handsome lad.”

Harriet turned to smile at Caroline. “You’ve changed
greatly since I last saw you, drumming your heels on the pianoforte
stool,” she said with a little laugh.

Caroline grimaced, but her eyes danced with
happiness. “I should hope so! I was a spoilt brat then, I know
it.”

“You weren’t so terrible,” Harriet said, but
Caroline only shook her head.

“If anything, I was worse.” She tucked her hand
firmly in Ian’s arm. “Thank goodness someone brought me to my
senses.”

“And me to mine,” Ian returned with a gallant little
bow, and they all laughed.

On the other side of the steps,
Rupert put his arm around his mother, his other hand clasped
tightly with his wife’s. “Shall we adjourn to the wedding
breakfast?” he said with a smile, for the two families--Campbells
and MacDougalls--had planned a celebration at Henry and Margaret’s
residence.

Betty nodded, still in awe of this new son of hers,
self-possessed and very much in love. The last time she’d seen
Eleanor, her daughter-in-law had been a slip of a girl. Now she was
a woman, and a wife.

The Moores’ dining room rang with laughter and happy
chatter as the families gathered there a short while later.

“A toast, for the bride and groom!” Henry announced,
raising his glass of champagne.

“The brides and grooms,” Allan corrected with a
grin, for there had been a double wedding that day.

“Indeed,” Henry agreed. “To Rupert and Eleanor, and
to Ian and Caroline!”

After everyone had toasted the new couples, Henry
cleared his throat for a further announcement. “It is my distinct
pleasure to tell you all that we have happy news of our own.” He
glanced tenderly at Margaret, who, in an action very unlike her,
blushed and looked down. “My dear wife is expecting,” Henry said in
a voice ringing with pride.

Betty clapped her hands out of her mouth, a look of
delight stealing over her face. Cheers broke out across the
room.

Later, after the festivities had died down, Harriet
and Allan, Margaret and Henry, and Betty gathered in the parlor.
The newly wedded couples had retired to their private quarters.

Outside a soft, purple twilight descended on the
square, and a whisper of a breeze blew at the curtains by the open
window.

“So much has changed,” Harriet said softly. “To
think of Rupert becoming a marshal in the Ohio Territory! I’d no
idea he had it in him.”

“He was always one for adventure,” Betty said
reminiscently, and Allan smiled.

“That he was. And now Ian, a doctor, with all these
fancy experiments with the ether! Do you suppose anything will come
of it?”

“If I know Ian, something surely will,” Harriet
said. “There’s no one like him for sheer determination.”