6 August (before dawn)
Alice's ragged breathing become gasps for air as she burst past the guards outside her father's quarters and wrenched the door open.
"Alice?" Of course—Papa was using the room. "Out!"
She started and reached for the door handle, then realized that he was speaking to his adjutant. The officer hurried out the other door.
"Come here, girl. What's the matter?"
He reached for her and held her hands. She tried to explain, but the words refused to make themselves coherent past her tremulous breathing. Her distress at being unable to communicate only compounded the problem.
"Shh, that's all right." He embraced her warmly and drew her forward to the bed. "Come lie down."
She acquiesced, realizing with alarm that her face had begun to tingle from the lack of air. If she didn't get ahold of herself she may faint.
"Ah, my sweet girl. The very image of your mother, the very disposition." He knelt beside her, lost in memory. "Twenty long years she waits for me, and what did I reward her with but another woman's daughter? And yet she forgives me, weds me. Would she be so forgiving now that I left her child behind only to bring her into a siege? Aye, but she's a saint in heaven."
Alice was still unable to answer her father's musings, but he rarely required a response when he was like this. It was a story he told time and time again, until she was quite sure that he remembered little else of Alice Graham than an idealization of fidelity and compassion.
She wished she knew more of the woman who gave her life to grant one to Alice, but that day wouldn't come until they were united again. Perhaps it was for the best that the young girl behind the infirmary would leave this world with her own mother; they would never be apart.
Ashamed of her dark thoughts, she shut her eyes and turned her back to Papa.
With a sigh, he stood. "I must defend the fort. Here, all claim alike to be my children." He was leaving.
Though she was glad he would no longer have to see her in such disgrace, her breathing hitched. She tried to contain her feelings of abandonment, knowing rationally that Papa's responsibilities here were greater than those of a parent.
"It'll be all right. We'll dine together when activity has ceased, how about that? There, now." He gave her shoulder a pat and stepped away.
The door opened.
"Cora! Good."
So Alice was to be handed off to another caretaker. A hushed exchange occurred between the two of them, and Alice pretended not to hear her name being discussed.
When Papa left, Cora sat down beside her.
"I know it was awful, but he couldn't live with his arm in that state. Now he has a chance." Alice nodded and clutched her own arm, grateful for its presence. She couldn't imagine living with only one.
She realized her hands were weak and trembling. Thankfully, the alarming numbness in her face had begun to recede with each deep inhale of breath. She managed to speak.
"How bad is the pox outbreak here?" Her voice was quiet and unsteady, a wisp of a thing, but she managed to get the words out nonetheless.
"Mr. Phelps does an admirable job of keeping it treated and contained. It is not unusual in a fort like this."
Another deep breath. "Laudanum."
"Makes one think of Nurse, doesn't it? But he is careful with the amount he dispenses." After a moment, she added: "Wretched woman."
As Alice rolled on to her back to frown at her sister, she simply shrugged, unapologetic.
Cora had never felt a desire to mourn their nurse, and Alice couldn't blame her. After all, the woman could have killed her sister with the amount of laudanum she had used to keep her quiet. Alice knew this, yet when she thought of Nurse, it was as the woman who raised her, the one who entertained her with tales involving spirits and journeys into Faerieland. When she was in her good humors, that was.
After Nurse's death, Alice had kept her grief held tight for weeks until it burst forth from her body in waves of panic.
She turned away again with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd have these fits again."
"It was a hard transition when we were sent to school." Is that what Cora thought plagued Alice in those days? "It's even harder now. But we'll all be stronger for it when it's over."
"How are you able to stand it, Cora?"
"I suppose I try not to dwell on it. And it gets easier over time."
They drifted into silence for a time, nothing but the sounds of their breathing and the fire crackling in the hearth filling the room. Eventually, Alice felt her sister move off the bed to pick up her basket: so, Cora was leaving her too.
Suddenly, the door swung open with a clank of the latch and the groaning of wood.
"Cora!" Duncan's voice. He must have just gotten off duty; perhaps the siege was ending for the night.
"Shh!" her sister admonished.
He lowered his voice immediately. "I-I wanted to talk to you."
Of course. There was no need to understand the source of his distress as her sister was openly vexed with him. Poor man—perhaps Cora would finally put an end to his hopes.
Alice rose from the bed and got to her feet.
"Talk to Duncan, Cora." To her dismay, she sounded far from recovered. But, there was nothing for it. "I must manage. I cannot be an invalid schoolgirl."
"Alice!"
"I'll see if Mr. Phelps needs anything." Perhaps she could make up for her pathetic display earlier.
She shut the door behind her to give them privacy.
Alice made her way back to the surgery, forcing herself to place one foot ahead of the other. At least there were no more screams, no more shelling.
Mr. Phelps looked up from his patient with a frown. "Miss Alice?"
"Mr. Phelps." She curtsied. "I apologize for my actions earlier." She took a deep breath, and spoke with marginally more conviction. "How may I assist you?"
He studied her dubiously. "No need, miss. Thank you."
Her brow pinched. "Surely there is—"
"Get some rest, miss." With that, he turned away.
At a loss, she stood in place for a moment before walking back out onto the parade ground. With Duncan's usurpation and Mr. Phelps's refusal for aid, she had nowhere to go.
Glancing down at herself, Alice considered her appearance. She must have lost her ribbon at some point in the night, because hair tumbled freely down her shoulders, where other women of the fort still wore theirs in a cap with dignity. She fancied she looked like a sort of faerie come to spirit away unsuspecting souls. She rather felt like one; no wonder Mr. Phelps sent her away.
Well, what could she do? She could sew, but the laundresses seemed determined to serve her instead. Her father had an adjutant to read and write missives. She wasn't needed anywhere.
She let her feet carry her away up to the now quiet ramparts and to the North bastion. Turning west, she waited for her eyes to adjust in the faint moonlight before she could make out the angled lines of trenches French sappers had carved into the earth.
She wondered how much closer they needed to get until they were able to reduce this fort into a pile of splinters. It had to be merely days away.
As Nathaniel and Jack appeared together on the ramparts, Uncas braced himself. Separate, they were incorrigible. Together, they were impossible. Lucky for him, their conversation appeared serious, and Jack made his leave to talk to some others in the militia.
Uncas caught up to his brother and addressed him in Mohican.
"What was that about?"
"Just discussing the Munro girls. Something else, aren't they?"
It was obviously not what they had been talking about. Uncas did not reply.
"Come now, Uncas. You were getting mighty comfortable with Alice earlier."
Uncas deflected. "Not as comfortable as you were with Cora. You should show her how to fire Killdeer next, I'm sure she'd enjoy that."
Nathaniel grinned. "No need, she already can."
"A woman who could put a bullet in a man, then patch him up after. What more could one want?"
"My thoughts exactly."
Uncas gave up. To his annoyance, Nathaniel had always been impossible to tease.
"You know, I wouldn't have believed it, but Jack said your Doe—"
"Do not tell me what Jack said—and she is not mine."
"What's the matter, brother? Still hunting for a wife instead?"
Uncas did not respond.
"Listen, Uncas. Let me give you some advice."
This was going to be good.
"Your problem is, you think too much. Just enjoy yourself."
Typical of Nathaniel, always acting on impulse. It was part of the reason why Uncas was always relegated to rear guard in a fight: to watch his brother's back.
"There is nothing to think about." He'd made up his mind. Approaching Alice was anything but a good idea.
Nathaniel paused, eyes glinting mischievously. "So, if you saw her now, you'd just walk on by?"
Uncas narrowed his eyes, unsure of what his brother's aim was. "That's the idea."
Nathaniel nodded over Uncas's shoulder. "You sure about that?"
Uncas followed his line of sight to see Alice standing in the North bastion, her fair hair a beacon in the moonlight. She stood fully exposed in the embrasure.
"Alice!" He did not think—he ran. As she turned, he collided with her, forcing her to take several steps into the shadows of the parapet. "What are you doing, you could get shot!"
Her eyes widened. "But no one's out there, the French have stopped for the night."
"Maybe!" It was unlikely the French would station sharpshooters when they had ceased digging entirely—in fact, it would be pointless—but he had nearly seen Ian's head get a hole torn through it earlier. That had been great cause for concern, but the thought of anything happening to Alice made him nearly mindless with fear.
He tugged on her hand, leading her across the bastion to the side facing the lake. She acquiesced in bemused silence. From this angle, there were no opportunities for the French to lurk in the shadows, simply a smooth expanse of water—but Uncas checked anyway. He turned back to catch a glimpse of Nathaniel's smirk just before his brother headed down the ramp.
Sighing, he looked back at Alice. With her hair tumbling down around her shoulders, she had never been more lovely. She watched him carefully, her wide eyes betraying a silent vulnerability. Nushètu.
"Are you sending me away?"
He shook his head, considering how to put her at ease—not frighten her more. He reached out, ran his hand down her shoulder. If anything, she leaned into his touch.
"What are you doing up here?"
"Nowhere else to go. Duncan wanted to talk to Cora in my father's quarters, Mr. Phelps doesn't need me..."
As she trailed off, he realized he had been running his fingers through her hair. She was not objecting. If he wanted to, he could simply reach up, tilt her head back, lean down and—
Someone approached over the ramparts. He stepped away.
"Found this earlier." He produced the pink ribbon and handed it back to her, not meeting her eyes.
"Oh. Thank you." She took it, wrapped it around her hand, and began braiding her hair. "You know, I've always had others to do my hair for me. Without a maid I'm quite at a loss. Isn't that ridiculous?"
She laughed at herself, but the humor did not reach her eyes. He wanted to tell her not to bother; he preferred her with her hair long. It would not be appropriate. Nothing he did around her was, it seemed.
"I'm sorry—am I interrupting something?"
Jack—of course. Uncas was glad he and Alice were now standing apart.
Alice glanced up. "Not at all, Captain."
Uncas was sure he detected an edge in her voice, however subtle. Was she annoyed with Jack's implications, or because there had been nothing to interrupt? It was impossible to tell as she focused on tying the end of her braid.
"Came to let you know your watch is over, Uncas."
Alice perked up. "In that case, I'll have supper prepared promptly." She disappeared down the ramp to the parade ground.
Jack watched her leave. "Now she's waiting on you. That's... interesting."
"Jack." It was a warning. Yet Uncas supposed he was lucky to have gotten this far without Jack starting in on him again; he at least had the decency not to do so in the barracks earlier, where they would have been overheard beyond their circle of friends.
He rolled his eyes. "Look, I apologized for interrupting. There are plenty of opportunities to find oneself alone here. Or alone together, if you catch my meaning. I'll help you out."
"No."
"No?" Jack leaned in and lowered his voice. "Here I thought you were pursuing Miss Munro, but if she isn't spoken for, I don't mind if I—"
"Speak one more word, Jack, and the militia will have to find themselves a new Captain."
He held his hands up in surrender but smiled as Uncas departed.
Alice entered the kitchen with purpose.
The cook looked up from his work. "Miss?"
"Food for three, if you please."
"We are already preparing food for your family and the officers, miss."
"This isn't for me or the officers."
"Miss, our stores are carefully rationed."
Alice did not like that condescending tone. Luckily for her, in all her time living with cousin Eugenie in London, the one practical thing she had taught her was to manage a household. Alice mentally thanked her for it now.
"I saw some beef aging in the cellar earlier; and what is that wonderful smell?"
"Apple pie, but that's for the off—"
"Half of it will do." Silence. "If there is a problem, you may certainly bring it up with my father."
They both knew he wouldn't dare.
"No? Excellent. And to show my appreciation, I'll assist you."
And keep an eye on you.
Ultimately, Alice did try to make herself useful, but it seemed she wasn't to be trusted near a knife or an oven. She was relegated to brushing the dirt off of some vegetables instead. Well, it was a start.
When her own meal was ready, she helped bring it to her sister and Papa. As she settled down, she addressed the scullery maid.
"You may inform the cook I will fetch the additional meals after I've finished." Turning to meet her father's puzzled gaze, she explained. "For the Mohicans."
He sighed. Before he could start in, Alice beat him to it.
"Papa. These men saved our lives, and in return asked for nothing more than gunpowder and food—both of which they expended for our benefit. I believe that service is worth more than the... stodgy porridge you call rations."
Cora chuckled.
"Your sister is certainly rubbing off on you," Papa grumbled, but did not object.
Sobering, Cora found her opening. "You know, Papa. If they had joined up with the Fort earlier, they could not have been to our rescue."
He looked up from his food, frowning. "What's this about, girl?"
"Perhaps we don't need everyone in the militia here—they could be out protecting the frontier."
"They do more good here."
"Their families are in jeopardy. If you knew we were in danger, would you not want to come for us yourself?"
Alice dropped her fork and watched her father.
"Cora, do not trivialize. My loyalty is to the Crown. My duty is to protect this fort. That means every soul in it." He punctuated the last sentence by jabbing his finger into the table. "If this fort is abandoned to the French, many more lives are lost—the lives given before them, in vain. Then the entire frontier goes unprotected. Do you hear? All would be lost. I do not expect you to understand."
Alice supposed there was a certain nobility in her father's words, but she wished he had not spoken them.
They ate their remaining courses in silence, with Papa making the occasional inquiry regarding news in London. After he left, Alice turned to her sister.
"Did Papa just tell us he would not come for us?"
Cora did not answer.
Upon leaving the room, Alice came across the Mohawk chief alone. What was his name? Ongewesgone. She seized the opportunity to speak with him. After a hurried greeting, she got to the point.
"There was an Indian who acted as courier for my father. He presented himself as Mohawk, but was Huron."
"Twin River Mohawk got no part in this. But, you speak of Magua."
She found it difficult to read his matter-of-fact tone. She hoped she hadn't somehow offended the man. She was seeking answers, not placing blame. "You know him?"
"No. Rumor. He was Mohawk prisoner, fought for the tribe. Became blood-brother. Mohawks will repay his betrayal."
She nodded in acknowledgment. Bloodshed did not generally please her, but for one who would murder her family, she held no objections.
"How did he become a prisoner of the Mohawks?"
"Yengeese raided Huron village, two springs ago. Mohawk took many prisoners."
"Thank you, Ongewasgone. You have been most helpful."
Finally, she found an answer—and she had an idea where to find more. But first, there were Mohicans to attend to.
Uncas sat with his father by their fire, both trying to ignore the fact that Nathaniel seemed to be mysteriously missing along with most of their friends in the militia. He hoped his brother wasn't up to anything stupid.
Alice approached carrying a heavily laden tray, and he stood to assist her.
"I had to pile each course onto one plate I'm afraid. I would have invited you to dine with us properly, but with my father there, I thought that would be rather... awkward." He met her eyes and Alice nearly dropped the tray. "That is, I don't believe he's very partial towards Mr. Poe."
Uncas smiled. "He's not."
She set the tray before him. Each plate contained a slab of steak with mushroom gravy, roasted vegetables, and a generous slice of apple pie. As Alice beamed at their thanks, their friends in the militia began to filter back to the fire and tensions around the camp eased. A fiddle began playing and a few couples even danced.
"I hope you don't mind claret." To his surprise, Alice pulled out an entire bottle of wine from her skirt pocket.
"French wine? How'd you get that?"
"Oh, my father's been saving it since before the war."
He exchanged a glance with Chingachgook. He didn't want to think how many pelts this bottle was worth. Should they be drinking this?
Alice scoffed. "I didn't filch it if that's what you're thinking."
Chingachgook smiled and Uncas waved the suggestion away.
"Course not." Though that may have been his next question.
As Uncas used his knife to pry off the wax seal and cork, Ian arrived and resumed his place across the fire from Uncas.
"Are you joining us, Miss Munro?"
"Thank you Mr. Graham, but I must find Mr. Poe." She held up the tray with Nathaniel's plate and looked around at the other campfires. "Has anyone seen..."
She stilled. Uncas followed her line of sight to find his brother standing in the middle of the parade ground facing Cora. Without a word, he took her by the hand and led her into the shadows.
Did they have to do so in front of the entire camp? And at this moment?
Mouth ajar, Alice turned to meet Uncas's eyes only to find the rest of the group watching in hushed anticipation. She snapped her jaw shut and looked down at the tray, taking a moment to collect herself.
"Well, I suppose Mr. Poe will not need supper after all." Her lightened tone was forced as she offered the plate to Ian for the rest to share.
"Nathaniel's loss is our gain." He held it aloft as a small cheer went around the group. "A feast! Prepared by the very hands of Miss Munro, no doubt."
He moved aside to make room for Alice.
"Hardly, I merely scrubbed the parsnips."
Ian helped himself to one and passed the plate along. "And a fine job of it you did. Cleanest neeps I ever did have."
Chuckles permeated the group. As he ate his meal, Uncas was gratified to see Ian had made Alice smile.
Unfortunately, Jack appeared and decided to settle himself between Ian and Alice.
"Tell us, Miss Munro, what does a man have to do to earn such fine treatment?" Jack gave Uncas a sidelong glance, causing him to wonder if he was being baited.
Alice's face hardened, likely at the memory of the days past. But then she met Uncas's eyes with consideration.
"Well, if you're like Uncas here, you'll start by running off our horses." That's right—they met just days ago in the bloody aftermath of an ambush, and her first impression of him was probably that of some horse thief. The timid creature that had been on the ground moments before had thrown herself forward to challenge him. He had been focused entirely on the practicalities of their situation until he looked into her eyes.
Ian coughed. "What? Uncas, ye didn't."
His wince was reply enough, but Alice's face lit up with a grin. "Oh yes. Never a word to me, just 'ha!' and off they went. It was most shocking."
"I hope you gave him what for, miss."
"She did. Tried to chase them down too." Smiling, Uncas met her gaze across the firelight. She held it for a moment before glancing away.
Jack scoffed. "Not the demure Miss Alice Munro? The epitome of grace in this fort?"
Alice hesitated, her guard back up. "Sometimes I learn from my sister's example."
Uncas was pleased that she ignored Jack's flirtations.
"And what else did your sister teach you?" Jack raised his eyebrows salaciously. He had clearly seen Nathaniel run off with Cora along with the rest of them.
Uncas's hand gripped the knife he was eating with reflexively before realizing that this was a problem not solved by drawing blood. Ian promptly cuffed Jack on the back off his head, knocking his hat askew.
Alice's eyes flared with indignation. Yet even as the group began with their admonishments, Chingachgook included, she spoke over them. "She taught me how to cut out impertinent tongues, Captain."
Jack laughed, hands raised in surrender—and to ward off any more blows. "Well said, Miss Munro. I apologize."
"Accepted. But you'll have no more wine." The bottle had just made it around the group. She took it from Ian, passing over Jack, and refilled her cup halfway.
"This is what I've been talking about, boys! Another example of corruption by a ruthless dictator." Jack was back on to his political philosophies again. At least it distracted him from pestering Alice further—or so he thought.
"Goodness. You sound like a republican."
"Call it what you like. I believe 'That which is not just, is not Law; and that which is not Law, ought not to be obeyed.'"
He snatched the bottle and she relented. "Don't let my father hear you quoting Sidney."
Jack grinned. "He's heard the like already. But I think he would be far more shocked to learn that his own daughter has been reading treasonous texts."
She sputtered on her wine and cast a furtive glance around the campfire. She need not have worried. If anything, such habits earned her respect amongst the men here, as evidenced by their appreciative grins.
Uncas wondered how far Alice's rebellious streak could go, then decided he had too much wine.
After the conversation devolved into politics, each man began to drift off one by one. When Chingachgook left for the barracks, Alice stood as well.
Jack snatched up the tray she had carried earlier. "Allow me."
"That's quite all right Captain—"
"I insist. After all, who knows what could go on in the shadows between here and the kitchen." Suddenly, he put on an exaggerated frown. "Oh, that's right, I have to be somewhere. Uncas, here you are!" He shoved the tray into Uncas's hands with a clatter of dishes, leaving him no choice but to accompany Alice alone.
Not for the first time since entering the fort, Uncas was unsure if he was supposed to feel irritated or beholden to Jack.
Alice walked slowly alongside Uncas, wanting to draw out their time together as much as possible. He had been quiet, and still was; not unusual for him she supposed, but for some reason it made her nervous. She had made up for it by chattering endlessly, it seemed. She knew these men were friends of his, and wanted to make a good impression—even if Jack threw her for a loop. His flirtations didn't seem genuine, and the way he had thrown them together just now made her wonder what other game was afoot.
Perhaps her nerves simply stemmed from the growing realization that if anything were to progress between them, she would have to be the instigator. It had become clear to her that he was far too courteous to make any advances her way, though she was sure he somehow held some interest in her. Maybe that's what this was about.
Oh, but she couldn't—and all too soon, they neared the kitchen. This was it, her final chance. They were lost in the shadows of the building. Could she be brave enough?
She reached for the tray. "Thank you." Now she should set it aside and reach for him instead.
But, oh, she was a coward. In a sudden attack of shyness, she could not bear to even look at him. Instead Alice stammered a goodbye and hurried through the door.
In the kitchen, she wanted to stamp her feet and cry in frustration. If Cora and Nathaniel could be so free in front of the entire fort, why couldn't she steal a kiss in the shadows? What alternative could feel worse than this self-imposed isolation?
With sudden resolution, she set the tray down with a clatter and bolted back out the door. Uncas was still there, but walking away.
She didn't think. She ran to him, grabbed his arm just before he was able to step into the light. Firelight glinted off his dark eyes as he looked down at her in surprise.
There was no going back now. Her other hand reached up to his neck, thumb brushing his cheek, fingertips buried in his hair as she pulled him down to her. As their lips met, his hand moved up her arm. Alice had never felt so exhilarated in her life. She forgot all else and leaned in, deepening the kiss.
His hand gripped her shoulder and gently pushed away as his face drew back. She stumbled back, stunned. Mortification dropped on her like a lead weight as he shook his head.
"Alice—"
"I thought—oh, my word—I'm so sorry—" she shied away, wanting to flee to some dark corner and never come out again.
His hand still gripped her shoulder. "Please, wait—"
"No need to explain—"
"Alice!"
Uncas released her suddenly, as if he just realized he'd been holding her. He held his hands up in a placating gesture. She forced herself to still, though she kept her eyes determinedly fixed elsewhere as he spoke.
"I want to, be we can't."
Her eyes snapped to his and she frowned in confusion as he repeated himself.
"We can't."
So she wasn't mistaken after all. A flicker of hope rekindled inside her.
"Perhaps not publicly..." Her cheeks warmed at her proposal of carrying on some secret affair. Days ago it would have been entirely unlike her, but that was before she met him. It was clearly the only thing that made sense, given the circumstances.
"Too risky. Alice. I'm an Indian, you're Yengeese—it doesn't happen."
"But..."
"We won't see each other after we leave here. You're going back to England; I'm going west. Do you understand?"
She hadn't considered that. She hadn't thought ahead, couldn't even imagine a future beyond the fort. All of her efforts seemed to be focused on surviving from one moment to the next.
She forced herself to smile despite the vicelike grip in her chest. "Of course. How silly of me."
"No, Alice..." His distress was acute. How obscene of him, to be so wonderfully compassionate as he crushed her.
"Goodnight, Uncas." Or whatever time it was.
She picked up her skirts and hastened away. She did not stop until she reached the door to her father's quarters.
If Cora was inside, Alice simply wouldn't be able to stand being near her. If she was still off with Nathaniel, that might be even worse.
She turned back. Uncas was gone. After a moment, Alice walked away aimlessly. She desperately felt the need to get far away, yet here she remained trapped in this damned fort. She kept to the shadows for fear of running into Uncas again, and focused on containing every wrought emotion she possessed buried deep inside her.
She stepped around a reveler who was emptying the contents of his stomach by the barracks. An officer, she noted with vague disgust. She recognized the lieutenant as one she had been introduced to earlier that day. If Papa knew, he'd have him disciplined.
But she didn't care about anything else right now.
Alice managed to get some sort of hold on herself and discovered that she had ended up on the opposite side of the fort. To her confusion, she thought she recognized a couple of militia soldiers slip out the sally-port one at a time. What mission could they be going on just before dawn?
"Miss Munro."
She turned, habit taking over as she addressed her greeter. "Capt. Winthrop."
"Thought you'd be busy for a while."
His grin faltered when met with her scathing glare. She was quite sure he had tried to set up something between her and Uncas, and given the unhappy outcome, was content to foist as much blame as she could on him. She started to look back at the sally-port, but Capt. Winthrop shifted in front of her.
"It's nearly dawn, you should get some sleep."
"What about the militia? Aren't they tired too?"
"Ah. We've got orders."
Her eyebrows rose. Alice suspected this may be true, but that they were certainly breaking them. "And... are you joining them?"
He paused, eyes narrowing, and inclined his head.
She did not blame the militia for wanting to flee, not while their homes were being attacked. "Well then. Godspeed, Captain." Perhaps she should place more enthusiasm in her words, but she couldn't muster the energy.
After determining her sentiments were genuine, he relaxed. "Much obliged, miss." After a tip of his hat, he glanced up at the ramparts.
To her surprise, Nathaniel looked down on them. He made a staying gesture and nodded behind them.
Alice turned to see a soldier on guard approaching. Did he suspect there was something amiss?
Feeling quite reckless, she moved forward. She had been wrong about her cousin earlier; Eugenie had taught Alice more than managing a household. She had also shown her how to feign a swoon magnificently.
As Alice walked by the guard, she made a sound somewhere between a cry and a gasp. Sure she had his attention, she closed her eyes, draped the back of her wrist across her face, and swayed against the soldier, who had turned to catch her.
"Miss! Are you all right?"
Before she attracted too much attention to the area, Alice stirred. "Oh my." She peeked behind the soldier to see Capt. Winthrop still lingering by the sally-port, gaping in awe. Why hadn't he taken the opportunity to flee? She grimaced at him and went limp again to keep the soldier's attention on her.
"Miss Munro!"
She stirred once more. "La, am I worn through." She allowed him to help her back to her feet. "Would you be so kind as to escort me to my father's quarters?"
"Ah..." He was clearly hesitant, having a duty to patrol the fort. Time to use her trump card.
"Papa would be ever so grateful."
"Certainly, miss."
As she took his arm, she glanced up at the ramparts. Nathaniel grinned at her then disappeared to look over the fleeing militia.
By the time Alice made it back to Papa's quarter's, her sister was inside.
"There you are! You said you were going to bring supper to the Mohicans, but Mr. Poe never got his."
Alice mustered all of the patience and goodwill she had not to fly into a rage at her sister. "I did try, but he seemed to have disappeared."
Cora grinned. "Oh."
Alice stripped down to her shift and threw herself into bed, turning to stare at the wall.
"All right, Alice?"
"Shattered."
Alice brought to mind the blank slate that was the future, and forced herself to carve an image into it.
By evening, reinforcements would be here. Eventually the fort would be saved, her Papa lauded as a hero. Cora would stay to tend the sick and injured, Nathaniel remaining by her side. Uncas would find a better life out west, and she would be packed up and shipped back to England.
Unwanted, forgotten, alone.
It wouldn't be much different from before, really. But now that she knew what she wanted, and what she couldn't have, her heart ached so powerfully Alice wondered that it didn't stop beating.
Notes:
Colonel Munro's sentiments on his wife ("a saint in heaven", etc) are paraphrased from the book when he tells Duncan the story of Alice's mother. In addition, his view that all those of the fort could "claim alike to be his children" came from the moment Duncan called him out on not looking after his daughters himself as they were leaving the fort. I can't recall the page numbers.
Inspiration: It Will Come Back by Hozier