Free Emily's Vow by Betty Bolte Page A

you should. You must obey me." Captain Sullivan shoved the bundle none too gently into an inside pocket of his coat. His eyes flicked to the door as Jasmine appeared there. "It's about time."
    Jasmine entered the room and stopped beside him, her eyes wide and frightened, and cleared her throat. "Yes, sir?"
    "My cloak and hat," he barked.
    Her father must be very upset to speak to any slave in such a manner. Emily gripped her hands together and waited. She sympathized with Jasmine but dared not intervene.
    The slight woman bobbed once and slipped from the room. After the many years that she had worked for Emily, Jasmine knew how to handle his ire. Jasmine had served as Emily's personal attendant and housekeeper for the past ten years, ever since her father brought the twins to town to live after their aunt declared them fit to run a household. At fifteen years, Emily and Elizabeth had assumed full responsibility for managing the small house garden, food preservation, candle making, sewing and mending, and overseeing the cleaning of the house. As time permitted, Emily also read from a Bible to Jasmine until she learned to read for herself. That was an accomplishment Emily was particularly happy about, for Jasmine's benefit and edification. If the day ever came when Jasmine won her freedom, she possessed the ability to read.
    A flash of annoyance swept through Emily. It simply wasn't fair. Jasmine free to leave the house and she confined to quarters. She needed a compromise and fast, before her father left and the matter closed without the possibility of revisiting it. She scanned the room, searching for inspiration. No new ideas surfaced and she turned her gaze back to Frank, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He stood, tall and handsome with twinkling gray eyes, as her only answer, whether she liked it or not.
    "I do not fathom the reasons for the depth of your concern, Father." Emily met her father's eyes, pressing a hand on her stomach. "But if you're so worried about my safety, I shall renew my promise to only leave the house with a proper escort." Her heart thudded in her ears as she waited for his response. She hoped he'd agree with her renewed vow to adhere to his demand. Once he did, then she needed to investigate the nuances of the definition of the word proper . Spots formed before her eyes, and she forced herself to take a breath, unaware she'd been holding it.
    A light flickered in her father's eyes as he returned her look. She couldn't imagine what worried him so. She had never seen her father afraid of anything. Not when she was a child and slaves threatened to revolt. Not when his three sons—her equal parts loving and annoying older brothers—somberly left to fight for the fledgling country's independence. Not even when the British bombs exploded all around town, barely missing the house as they aimed for St. Michael's steeple a mere three blocks away.
    The presence of fear in her father worried her more than the threat of confinement to the house and garden.
    "What is it?" Her voice emerged strained, and she cleared her throat before continuing. "What happened?"
    "I take it you've not heard about the four women outside of town who were beaten and raped by the British soldiers?" His eyes glistened, his voice gentling, though still hot with outrage. "On their way to church, men attacked them. One poor soul even lost an eye in her fight to escape, though she did not evade the ravishment that followed. I took pleasure in attending those bastards' whipping. Indeed I did."
    Emily gasped at the thought of the poor women and of her father relishing the sight of men being horsewhipped. Or had he actually participated in laying the lashes to the British? "That's terrible. Did you—were you at the whipping?"
    Her father glanced at Frank behind her and pressed his lips together before inclining his head slowly. "Yes, that's where I met up with Frank, on his way back into town."
    "Frank was there? Watching?" She