of the servants and how so many of her former friends and allies had been let go. She still had Lucy, the cook, and Adams, her father’s valet, but no one else had known her for long. No one else could be counted on to provide solace while she resided in the Eaton home.
That was where she would start, Annabelle decided. If she could find Lucy she would ask her for advice. If not, she’d turn to Adams. Truth to tell, the grandfatherly man had bounced her on his knee when she was small far more often than John Eaton had.
Thoughts of her friends brought a smile. She was still smiling when she sensed someone nearby. The whispered “Siyo” told her who.
“Johnny!” Crouching, she opened her arms for the child’s embrace.
“You are back.” His shrill voice was muffled against her shoulder.
She set him away and grinned. “Yes, I am. Are you all right?”
The child nodded. His sky-blue eyes glittered. “I took your message to my uncle.”
“I know. What did he say?”
“He was mad.”
“I am sorry for asking you to disobey. I just didn’t know who else I could trust.”
Johnny stood taller, proud. “Will you run away with me now?”
A tiny part of her conscience wanted to set aside responsibility and tell him yes, but she refrained. Knowing that Eaton didn’t plan to make a permanent home for the Cherokee child had changed things. What she wasn’t sure of was how she should behave and how much she should reveal from then on. If he did decide to leave she certainly could not allow him to travel alone, yet if she accompanied him she would be considered a fugitive.
“I need to speak with your uncle again,” Annabelle finally said, “but I don’t want you to get in more trouble by going to get him for me. Do you know when the delegation is planning to leave? Is it today?”
His ebony hair swung against his shoulders as he rapidly shook his head. “It was tomorrow.”
She sensed more to the story. “And?”
“They are gone.”
“What? Now? Already?”
The boy looked ready to cry. “Yes. All gone.”
“Are you certain?”
With a slow nod he assured her before beginning to sniffle and pointing to the uppermost dormer of the elaborate home. “I saw them pass. From up there.”
Bereft, Annabelle sank to her knees in the garden and embraced the child while they both silently mourned and the setting sun cast their shadows among the fragrant blooms.
A trip back to the jail where Annabelle had been held had proved fruitless, so Charles had returned to the Eaton estate and stationed himself across the street to watch, as before.
Now that Major Ridge had released him as a diplomat, he had to be even more cautious. Ridge had kept him out of jail once. That would not happen again.
And now? Although he had sent most of his belongings home with Elias, he had kept enough provisions to sustain him a few more days or weeks, if need be. And he had rented a saddle horse rather than keep hiring cabs and take the chance there might not be one available when he next needed it.
What he wanted to do was spirit Annabelle away to safety in Georgia. To do so, however, would not only be dangerous, it would be insane, and he was no fool. How their lives had become so entangled in such a short time was an unsolvable puzzle. Perhaps, if his assumption were correct and she did have Indian blood, that was part of the reason they’d been so drawn to each other.
A bigger question was, what did Annabelle want? He knew she had aspirations of an education but there had to be more to her future plans than that. Most young woman her age were already thinking of marriage, yet she had never mentioned suitors, probably because she was trapped between the servant class and the snobbish elite of Washington City and didn’t fit into any social strata.
Charles swung a leg over the horse’s neck and slid to the ground beside it the moment he saw activity in the Eaton garden.
He was about to call “Annabelle!” when she spotted him. He made it across the street just in time to receive her headlong rush through the gate and fold her into his arms. To do so in broad daylight was to muddy her already sullied reputation, yet he could not stop himself.
“What happened?” He set her away and feasted his eyes on her natural beauty. “How did you get out of jail?”
“John Eaton came for me. The things he said on our ride home were frightening. It was awful. He said I had shamed him and, and...” Tears began to brighten her eyes and she sniffled. “I thought you were gone. Johnny said your party went home.”
“They did.”
“What about you? Aren’t you in danger of arrest, too?”
“No. Since I’m a Cherokee and an emissary to President Jackson, Major Ridge convinced them that the tribe would mete out my justice.”
“But, they all left. Why did you stay?”
Charles gazed deeply into her eyes. “I had to stay after I saw them taking you away in shackles. We know we are not guilty of killing anyone but if we cannot prove it, I will pay a visit to the powers that be, tell them the whole story and throw myself on their mercy.”
“No! What if they don’t believe you?”
“All I care about is convincing them that you are innocent. After that it doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. You mustn’t do that.” She sobered even more and glanced toward the house. “There is more to tell. Secretary Eaton was very angry when he came to get me out of jail. He admitted some terrifying things.”
“What things?”
“For one, he’s not going to keep Johnny as a son, the way you thought. He’ll only let him stay until the treaties with your tribe are finalized in some way. I don’t know the whole story but I fear there will be nothing of benefit to the Cherokees when all is said and done.”
“As many of us have suspected,” Charles murmured. “Was there anything else? Any details you can give me?”
“Only that President Jackson is not to be fully trusted.”
“What do you want to do now?” Charles asked, unsure of anything other than his concern for the young woman.
Annabelle shook her head and sighed. “I wish I knew. I had thought to escape unhappiness by being sent off to boarding school but with Margaret having such a strong influence on my future, I do not see that happening. Not even if we manage to prove our innocence.”
“Then rethink everything. Start from the beginning. Let yourself dream.”
“What possible good can that do?”
When she lowered her head in despair, Charles lifted it with one finger under her chin. Tears were trickling down her cheeks and he brushed them away with a gentle touch. “Don’t give up.”
“But...I have no hope.”
He placed a light kiss on her forehead as he said, “You have me.”
“For how long?” she asked in a shuddering whisper.
Because he had no idea when he would have to follow the rest of his party back to Georgia, he didn’t answer.
* * *
Given a choice, Annabelle realized she would just as soon remain right where she was, in the company of Charles McDonald. That, of course, was unacceptable no matter how much she wished otherwise.
His