How Dark the Night (23 page)

Agreen nodded in acknowledgment and then looked away, embarrassed by Richard's overt expression of affection and praise. “So what do
you
make of all this?” he asked moments later.

Richard shrugged. “I just don't know. Two things are certain: it's bad, and it's going to get worse. Perhaps a lot worse, as Jack seems to think—and for the reasons he stated. I may find his ways annoying, Agee, but I can't deny his intellect and business insight. My family is where it is today because of three men: my father, my Uncle William, and Jack Endicott. The profits of C&E dwarf those of Cutler & Sons, and it was Jack's vision of the China trade that finally convinced my father and uncle to throw in our lot with him. So I'd be a fool not to listen carefully to what Jack has to say. And I will confess to you that what he had to say today scares the living hell out of me. If Jefferson does broadside our carrying trade, our world will turn upside down. It
is
madness, as Jack says. But I can agree with Jack only so far. I cannot for the life of me accept his notion of taking New England out of the Union. Nothing on earth could justify doing that. I love my country, and my country is the United States.”

“Amen t' that, Richard.”

Just north of Hough's Neck, the packet entered the twelve square miles that formed Hingham Bay. Ahead on the horizon off to starboard, in the narrow open space between the foredeck and the foot of the jib, Agreen caught a glimpse of Grape Island, its familiar low terrain marking the entrance of Hingham Harbor. In these more sheltered waters the wind had moderated considerably; the packet's former twelve-knot speed had settled into a lazier pitch and roll on the waves of a following sea. At this rate, he estimated, they would arrive at the Hingham docks within the half hour. It was now or never, Agreen decided. He drew a deep breath.

“Richard, there's somethin' I need t' ask you. It's on another subject.”

“Ask away.”

Agreen hesitated, then: “It's about Katherine.”

Richard stared steadily northward at the distant gap between Peddock's Island and Pemberton Point known as Hull Gut. On the mainland side rose a thirty-five-foot structure that gave the end of the Nantasket Peninsula the alternate name of Windmill Point. During the early years of his marriage, that desolate but alluring spit had been Richard and Katherine's favorite destination, to walk and talk, and simply to be alone together. As he normally did whenever he caught sight of that windmill, he recalled the magic of that warm September afternoon years ago when, to his delight, Katherine had enticed him into shattering social mores by making love amid the thick shrubs and tall sea grass encircling the windmill. Richard often found himself wondering what would have happened had Rebecca Hanson or another of Hingham's gossipmongers caught sight or wind of what they had done. The thought never failed to induce a smile. “What about Katherine?”

Agreen chewed on his lower lip. “I'm concerned about her.”

“Why?”

Agreen studied Richard's profile as his friend continued to gaze northward, his jaw set as if in stone.

“I think you know why, Richard,” Agreen said softly. “She seems more and more withdrawn as the weeks go by. Oh, she still lights up and becomes her old self whenever Diana comes over. And she always has a smile for me, bless her. But she seems content to stay indoors much of the time. Lizzy tells me that it's hard t' get Katherine t' go out ridin' with her. You
know
there's somethin' wrong there. Before, Katherine would have jumped at almost any opportunity t' ride a horse, especially with Liz.”

“Are you the one making these observations, Agee? Or is it Lizzy, through you?”

“It's us both,” Agreen asserted. “We don't mean t' pry. But we can't just sit on our hands and say nothin' either. You and I, Richard, we're the luckiest of men. We've both won life's biggest prize. We married extraordinary women who, for reasons only the Almighty can comprehend, find us worthy of their love in return. Few people can claim such a union, much less understand it.”

Richard nodded his agreement. “That was well put. I obviously agree.”

“You and Katherine are our dearest friends,” Agreen continued in a low, urgent tone. “Lizzy and Katherine have been like sisters since childhood. You and I have been like brothers since we signed on t'gether in
Ranger
. So when we're concerned about either of you, we speak up. That's what friends and family do. Lord knows, you and Katherine have done that for us. Hell's bells, you two are the reason Lizzy and I got hitched in the first place. Without your intervention and wise counsel,” Agreen concluded with a chuckle, “Liz would never have had a mind t' marry me.”

“I doubt that,” Richard said.

“It's not only that she seems withdrawn,” Agreen continued when Richard offered nothing further. “She seems frailer and thinner. Her clothes don't fit anymore; they hang on her. Lizzy and I aren't the only ones t' notice these things. I know from what Hugh has told me that he and Phoebe are concerned. So are Caleb and Joan. I suspect your children are too. Maybe they're convinced that it's all part of growin' older. But that's not the right explanation, is it, Richard.”

That last sentence was not a question but a statement of fact. Richard leaned forward and clasped his hands together. For long moments he stared down at the deck and at the gush of seawater gurgling along the packet's larboard hull. When the mate walked forward on the leeward side to prepare mooring lines and douse canvas, he said, his voice gravelly and thick with emotion, “Agee, I am not at liberty to discuss this subject with you right now. Besides, we haven't the time. All I can tell you is that your concerns are noted and appreciated. And they are not without merit. I can assure you, no one is more concerned about Katherine than I am.”

“S
O, HOW
was your day in Boston, my love?” Katherine asked lightheartedly as she finished dinner preparations.

Richard was sitting at the oval teak table in the dining room off the kitchen as Katherine served their favorite dish of creamed codfish surrounded by whipped potatoes and green beans. Richard had already poured two glasses of Bordeaux. Three candles flickered in the silver candelabra placed at the center of the table; they could hear the comforting
snap and crackle of birch and pine logs ablaze in the hearth in the parlor adjacent to the dining area; a strengthening northerly rattled the window-panes, accentuating the comfortable warmth inside.

“It was interesting,” Richard answered as she sat down across from him. Since it was rare these days for their children to dine with them, Richard had removed both leaves of the table, contracting its size by half. Once, that would have welcomed intimacy into the evening.

Katherine took a healthy sip of wine. “How so?” she inquired. “Anything you'd like to tell me?”

He studied her in the soft glow of the candlelight. Agreen's words to him on the packet boat weighed heavily on a mind already fraught with anxiety and despair. And yet, as he gazed at her from across the table, he could almost discount that conversation. It seemed surreal, out of place. Her fetching smile was still there; her skin still glowed; her chestnut hair still curled about her face, although it was not as long as in former days. Approaching fifty years of age, Katherine Hardcastle Cutler remained a woman of extraordinary grace, beauty, kindness, and courage—to his eyes the very same woman he had married twenty-five years ago. Looking at her in the mellow, dancing light, he could neither believe not bear to accept that inside that lovely exterior her body was being viciously assaulted.

“Richard? What is it, darling?” she asked.

Richard downed a slug of wine before placing the glass gently back on the table. “Katherine,” he said quietly, “I fear your secret is about to be exposed. I have not said a word to anyone, I promise you. But people are drawing conclusions on their own.”

Katherine did not flinch. “You say ‘people.' Who, specifically?”

“Agee. And Lizzy. This afternoon on the boat Agee told me that Hugh and Phoebe have their concerns, as do Caleb and Joan. No doubt there are others.”

Katherine let out a low sigh. “Diana was over this afternoon. She asked me if anything was wrong. She said that she and Peter have been worried about me.”

“How did you answer her?”

“I told her that nothing was wrong. I told her I am having some stomach ailments that I'm sure will clear up in due course. She asked me if I felt well enough to go out riding with her tomorrow. When I told her I did, she was visibly relieved. So we're meeting at Indian Hollow at ten o'clock.”

“Do you think that's wise?”

“Of course it's wise,” Katherine snapped. “Why wouldn't it be? Why are we even having this conversation, Richard? You know it only distresses me. Is that what you want to do? Worry and distress me?”

“Of course not, Katherine. Stop talking nonsense.”

“
What
, then?”

Richard held her hard glare. “It's just that I don't know how much longer we can continue to say nothing. We know your cancer is back. Our friends and family may not know it, but they will soon assume it, if they haven't already.
I
had my strong suspicions before you told me about it last week. More to the point, Katherine, you're weaker than before. You can't deny that and you can't entirely hide it. If something should happen and you should fall from your horse . . .” He could not go on. He reached for his glass and drained it.

Katherine's eyes softened. She reached her right hand across the table. Richard took it in his. “Richard,” she pleaded, “stay with me on this, I beg you. It is what I want you to do for me. People may observe all they want and draw whatever conclusions they will, but that won't change anything. I don't want their pity. I don't want to talk to them knowing that they know. There is nothing that anyone can do to treat this cancer. As good a surgeon as Dr. Prescott may be, he cannot amputate my chest.” She gave him a rueful smile. “It is what it is, my darling, and we both have to accept that reality. We both have to be strong—for each other and for those we love, especially our children. They need not know about my condition for some time yet. I promise henceforth to do everything I can to appear strong and to allay concerns. I can and will endure whatever pain I must, and I promise not to take unnecessary risks.

“But in return, you must promise to stand with me. If I were to confess to everyone, as you seem to want me to do, the life I have known—the life I have loved all these years with you—would end on that day. Who knows how much longer I have? It could be many months. It could be a year or more. So let us please make the most of the days we have left together. Do not deny us the joy of seeing our grandchild. Do not give people reason to avoid us or act uneasy around us. Do not take from me this life I love so dearly one day sooner than is absolutely necessary. Don't you understand? We've been through this before.”

In truth, Richard did understand. But it was the scourge of Satan for him to watch impotently while the woman he loved more than life itself suffered so in mind and body.

“I shall do as you ask,” he said to her, his voice resigned. “And I shall continue to pray for God's blessing and mercy on you and on us all.”

Ten

Washington, D.C., and at Sea off Norfolk, Virginia

June 1807

S
TEPHEN
D
ECATUR
chewed on his lower lip as he read the communiqué lying face-up on the desk of his grandly appointed study. When he had finished reading it, he lifted its upper edges and read it a second time, his eyes narrowing as he took in the very real threat couched in the polished and seemingly collegial words of a highly placed British diplomat. He cursed under his breath and banged his fist on the smooth mahogany finish. Pushing back his chair, he jumped to his feet and reached for the long velvet cord by the window drapes that would summon Martin, his orderly.

Just then, his bride of one year appeared at the open door. “What is it, Stephen?” she asked as she hurried into the room. “I do not mean to pry, but the door was open and I heard you pound your fist on the table. Why so out of sorts?”

Decatur released the cord. “It appears that our British friends are at it again, Susan,” he replied stiffly. “I must confer with Mr. Smith as soon as possible.”

“Whyever so?” she said, surprised at his sudden desire to see the secretary of the Navy.

He handed her the letter. As she read it, he studied her profile and her elegant features, clouded now by concern at the letter's content. Long considered a “prize of consequence” for her stunning beauty and keen intellect, before her marriage Susan Wheeler had been pursued by such notables as Aaron Burr, the man who in 1801 became Jefferson's vice president, and Jérôme Bonaparte, Napoléon's youngest bother, who had
cut quite a swath through Washington society. Ultimately she had settled her love interest on the dashing war hero born on Maryland's Eastern Shore and raised in Philadelphia. Her father, Luke Wheeler, was the mayor of Norfolk, Virginia, and was well regarded in naval circles there and elsewhere. He had played a pivotal role in the introduction and subsequent courtship of his daughter to the American naval officer who had led the daring raid on USS
Philadelphia
in Tripoli Harbor. Nor had that been Decatur's only act of heroism. He had several times risked his own life to come to the aid of shipmates in distress, on one occasion swan-diving off a lower yard of a frigate to rescue a waister who had fallen overboard and could not swim.