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***
Daniel froze, his insides turning to ice. Such a reaction was surely ridiculous; the man must be referring solely to his own desertion, which Aaron had been attempting to prevent, thus leading to his being shot by Daniel.
But he sensed there was more, much more, behind the man’s words.
Margery wrapped her arms about herself, her expression stricken. She didn’t once look Daniel’s way, and he ached to look in her eyes to see her reaction to Newton’s words. But she kept her gaze fixed to Newton and said, her voice a mere breath of sound, “I would hear it from your own lips. Explain yourself.”
Newton cast Daniel another glance, as if pleading with him to step in. His every nerve suddenly alive, Daniel merely indicated with a raised brow that he should continue. He would not have been able to speak if his life depended on it just then.
The man, seeing he was not going to get an ounce of assistance, dropped his head in his hands. “You have to understand,” he cried into his lap. “I was so frightened. There was so much noise, so much blood. I didn’t want to die—” He bit his lip as a sob bubbled up.
Margery seemed to sense something life-altering was coming as well. She stumbled back to her seat and dropped heavily onto the cushion, her fingers gripped like claws about the arm of the sofa, her gaze frozen on Newton in fatalistic horror.
Finally, when Daniel thought he’d scream with the waiting, Newton spoke again. “I was just one soldier. I certainly wouldn’t affect the outcome. Surely I could slip away, hide until the battle was done. Only Aaron saw me, tried to stop me—” Another sob, this one seeming to have been dredged up from the depths of his soul. “The French soldier came out of nowhere. He shot Aaron in the chest, right in front of my eyes. And I ran. I didn’t stop to help him. I ran…”
Daniel felt as if he were floating up out of his body. And suddenly he was there in that field once more. Only now it was all in slow motion: Newton pushing past him, sending him sprawling into the mud and water; Daniel lifting the musket out from beneath him; sighting down the barrel, pulling the trigger. And Aaron, stumbling in front of him. No flash of flint. He’d thought it had been a misfire. But the smoke was in his eyes. And when it had cleared, Aaron again, his hand at his chest. But had he already been shot? Had his hand already been at his chest? Had he been stumbling after his friend for help?
A wild hope flared to life. Was Daniel innocent in the man’s death after all?
As he looked at Margery, however, he knew that his own guilt or lack thereof was the least of his concerns. She looked as if she might faint.
He hurried to her side, sank down next to her once more. His thigh screamed in pain again, but as before he didn’t give a damn. His entire focus was on Margery and her well-being. Her hand was like ice when he gripped it between his own. “Margery?”
“I’m well,” she managed, the weakness in her voice belying her words. But her eyes when they met his were brimming with emotion.
Before he could comprehend her expression, however, she straightened away from him and turned to look at Newton. The man was still hunched over, his hands now tangled in his hair.
“Your cowardice led to Aaron’s death,” she said, her voice flat. “And then you abandoned him.”
“I did.” He moaned. “God help me, I did.”
He peered up at Margery then, as miserable as any person Daniel had ever seen. Despite the pain and heartache this man had caused, Daniel felt sorry for him. To live with such a thing for so long could tear a person up inside. He knew firsthand. And though Newton hadn’t pulled the trigger that had caused Aaron’s death, his actions had caused it just the same.
“Will you tell the authorities what I’ve done?” Newton asked Margery then, his voice pitifully small. “About my desertion? About the blackmail?”
Margery was silent so long Daniel thought she might not answer. Then, her voice a mere whisper, “I should.I wantto see you pay for what you did to Aaron, for the torment you’ve caused me.”
She turned to look at Daniel then, and her eyes were brimming again with emotion. This time, however, he could see that, mingled with the grief, was something that gave him hope like never before.
“But no, I won’t,” she continued, the strength returning to her voice as she looked again at Newton. “Despite the devastation you’ve caused, Aaron wouldn’t want it. He would instead want you to get help. He was a good man, my husband. And much better than you ever deserved as a friend. I’ll see you get the help you require to get back on your feet, in his honor. But after that, I don’t ever want your face darkening my door again.”
The man broke down in sobs. After much groveling and thanks he left. Leaving Daniel and Margery alone.
He watched her closely, desperate to give her what she needed, but not knowing what that might be. Her profile was unchanging, her gaze steady on the open door of the sitting room. She seemed utterly unaware that he was even beside her.
Mayhap she needed time alone. It could not be easy for her, learning the truth, finding out that a man who had claimed to be her husband’s friend had not only kept the truth of his death from her all these years, but had also blackmailed her with horrible lies about her husband. And so, though his heart ached to stay beside her, he reached for his cane where it lay on the ground and struggled to standing.
Before he reached the sitting room door, however, she spoke.
“You didn’t kill Aaron.”
Her voice was stark and raw in the quiet of the room. He stopped, facing the door. “It appears not,” he managed.
Once more that loud quiet, going on so long he thought he might split apart from needing to know what was going through her head. And then, “You were there for him when he was dying. You held him, comforted him. He wasn’t alone because of you—”
Her voice broke off, an agonizing sound. Without a word he closed the door and turned to hurry back to her side. But she was already on her feet and rushing to him. Her arms came about him, her face pressing into his chest.
“You were there for him,” she repeated. “He wasn’t alone.”
