Elliott might have continued to argue, but at that instant his attention was diverted by a disheveled band of men who came streaming out of the woods. Tired and dirty, they shuffled into the clearing, their gait slowed by the burden of defeat. Frontiersmen dressed in buckskins, they were led by Ens. Edward Ward, the British naval officer Captain Trent had entrusted with the building of the fort.
Grateful to have reached Will's Creek, many of the dust-covered men sank to the ground, while the ensign explained how they came to be there to George Washington. For the second time that day, the troops formed a close circle, so as not to miss anything. The ensign had had a one-hundred-forty mile trek on which to practice his report, and physically spent, he gave it with little emotion.
"We were attacked by at least a thousand French troops. They must have had three hundred canoes and sixty bateaux. They rolled their cannon up to our stockade, and their commander, the Sieur de Contrecoeur, demanded our surrender." The outcome of their confrontation obvious, he paused only a moment. "As soon as we had left, they began tearing down our fort to construct their own."
A low moan emanated from the troops, for all appreciated the depth of the disaster Ensign Ward had described. Washington had insisted that a fort placed where the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers joined to form the Ohio River, was vital to the defense of the Ohio Valley. That it had fallen to the French as soon as it was built, meant war with France was inevitable.
Hunter heard the troops' sorrowful murmur, but it was followed by the howl of a wolf that went unnoticed by the others. He glanced toward the forest, expecting to see the beast which had crossed his path, but a squirrel scrambling up a pine tree was the only animal in sight. He had heard the wolf though, as clearly as he had seen him. His howl had signaled the coming of war, and death.
Chapter 7
The ballroom of the Governor Palace was ablaze with the light of a thousand candles, but so crowded that the dancers frequently toured the adjacent gardens not simply for a breath of fresh air, but to have a chance to breathe at all. Melissa's hand rested lightly on Ian's arm as they strolled down a secluded path, but her mood was agitated in the extreme. Her monthly flow was now six days overdue, and this was the first time she had ever been late.
That she might be pregnant was so abhorrent a thought, she could not bring herself to accept it. Her guilty conscience had caused her to suffer a great deal of distress, and quite naturally her body's delicate rhythm would be affected. That was a plausible excuse for the delay in what had previously been a predictable sequence. That she could not sleep well was undoubtedly a factor also. She had already been nearly exhausted by guilt, and now with this additional worry, she was grateful to have an hour or two of sleep a night.
She followed Ian numbly, unmindful of where he was leading her. He was a fine man, and her admiration for him had continued to grow. He had been her escort at several parties that week, and he had also brought her to the ball. They had not discussed their future as yet, but Melissa was counting on him to provide the safe haven she craved more urgently with each passing hour.
They had left the others far behind, and while they could still hear the music, they had no fear of being seen or overheard. Ian drew Melissa into his arms. "I love you," he whispered.
"I love you, too," Melissa responded easily, but she clung to him with a desperation she could no longer hide. She was badly frightened, and drank in his attentions as though she were dying of loneliness.
She responded to each of his kisses with increasing passion, until he had to take a step back in an effort to restore control to her emotions as well as his own.
Melissa's pretty blush had matched the pale rose satin of her gown while they were dancing, and now, bathed in Ian's affection, she could feel the heat of that charming glow clear to her toes. He was looking down at her with an adoring glance that filled her with hope, and in an instant, she knew precisely what she wanted.
"Let's get married," she begged.
Surprised by her sudden enthusiasm for marriage, Ian cocked his head slightly. "I was willing to ask for your hand two weeks ago, but you asked me to wait. Has your father had enough time to regard me as a serious suitor?"
Actually, her father had no idea her current romance was more serious
than any of the others, and when she considered the reason for his view, she was deeply embarrassed by how many frivolous flirtations she had enjoyed. In the last week, both her parents had gone out of their way to see that she renewed her acquaintances with the sons of Virginia's most prominent planters. If she were totally honest with herself, she knew they would prefer her to wed one of them, any one of whom could provide a secure future.
It was not security which concerned her most however, and she was dreadfully afraid she did not have the weeks, or months, it might take to wring a proposal from a man of her parents' choosing. Even if she did receive an unexpectedly prompt proposal, as she had with Ian, the elaborate wedding both families would insist upon planning would still be several months away.
"My father likes you, of course, he does, but I know that he'd prefer me to wed one of his friends' sons. Being around them this past week has put ideas in his head that I really don't want him to have. If you asked for my hand now, he might forbid me to see you again. We dare not take that risk."
"I'll be promoted to captain soon, and that ought to impress him. I could wait until then."
"No!" Melissa threw herself into Ian's arms, and when he enfolded her in a warm embrace, she blurted out what she truly wanted. "I think we should elope tonight."
Stunned by her request, Ian loosened her hold on him and held her at arm's length. He had not the slightest doubt that he loved her, but her suggestion struck him as preposterous. "You can't possibly mean that."
Terrified that he was going to refuse her, Melissa began to cry. "Do you want to see me wed to my father's choice, rather than you?" she sobbed. "Don't you love me at all?"
"Melissa, stop it," Ian scolded softly. "You mustn't cry. Of course, I love you. That's why I want you to have the beautiful wedding you deserve, not some hasty elopement that will set all of Williamsburg gossiping for years. I'm thinking of your reputation, beloved, and you should, too."
Fearing her reputation was already beyond salvaging, Melissa pulled free of his grasp. She was too upset to care that she might be risking his contempt rather than winning consent for an elopement, and she lashed out at him, "You don't love me! You couldn't, or becoming my husband would mean more to you than what some gossiping shrews might say about us." She turned away from him then, and too distraught to return to the ball, she ran on through the darkness toward the trees that formed a natural boundary to the palace grounds.
Ian had not realized Melissa was so high-strung, but he dared not waste a moment considering the sensitivity of her temperament, when she could so easily become lost or badly hurt, if she stumbled and fell. He raced after her and overtook her in a matter of seconds. Taking care not to trip her, he reached out and grabbed her around the waist to bring her to a halt.
"Let me go!" Melissa wailed.
"Never," Ian swore, and he easily subdued her defiance with a flurry of impassioned kisses.
Taking refuge in his affection, Melissa clung to him and kissed him with such stirring ardor that he longed to grant every request she could ever make. He would have made love to her there, but she was a fine lady, and he respected her far too much to strip her of her beautiful gown and take her in the damp grass. He struggled to contain her excitement as well as his own, and when he had succeeded in calming her with gentle caresses and tender words of devotion, he made his plans aloud.
"If we go to the priest at Bruton Parish, he might send someone to summon your parents, but the chaplain of our regiment is a young man whom I believe I can persuade to perform a wedding ceremony tonight. What shall we do then? Every inn in town has three men in a bed. I can't take you to my barracks. Where shall we go?"