Patriot's Heart

by Marzec, Penelope;

“I pray for a swift end to this war,” he said.

  Agnes looked into every child’s face, but none of them were Margaret. They came to the end of the refugee town and the emptiness in her heart widened into a chasm. Drawn to the serenity of the shoreline, she walked to the edge of the sand and stared out at the water while the sun settled lower behind the tall headland. “Lady Tabitha is very beautiful.”

  “She resembles my mother, though I have always looked exactly like my father.”

  “I am sorry to learn of his death.” She wondered if the old Earl, her mother’s father, still waited for news of his only daughter. How would he take the news of her death after all this time?

  “The Duke was a difficult man to like. I regret that my act of defiance caused him to become ill, but I am quite surprised it affected him so grievously. He appeared to be made of iron.”

  “Even iron bends,” she stated.

  He gave a mirthless laugh. “Yes, I should have expected you to say that. However, it takes a great deal of heat and a heavy hammer to manipulate metal. My father resisted any of my attempts to discuss matters with him. To him, there were no alternatives. I had to leave. The situation had become untenable to me.”

  “It is sad you could not come to an agreement about your profession.” She never had to make a choice. It was there for her. Waiting.

  “At least I discovered I do not want to remain in the army for the rest of my days.”

  “Your captain spoke to me briefly. He said you served well.”

  “That was kind of him, but shooting and stabbing people is not to my liking.”

  “You knocked out Zeb with a rock.”

  “That was self-defense.”

  “I wonder what happened to the Zimmers.” She shivered. The threat of meeting up with them again hung over her, adding to her anxiety and worry.

  “You are cold. Let’s go back inside,” he urged.

  “What if there is news of Margaret?”

  “When she is found, a messenger will be sent to the general directly,” he said.

  They returned to the cottage where Lady Tabitha insisted upon speaking to Edwin alone. Agnes sat outside on the steps and prayed. However, her petitions were interrupted by the argument between Edwin and his sister. From the tone of their voices, she suspected few tender feelings were shared by the pair.

  In the distance, a group of soldiers marched toward the cottage with their bayonets glinting in the golden rays of the sun as it made its descent. Agnes stood and clasped her hand together. Was there word of Margaret? Had they found her?

  The men stopped at the cottage. One of them went inside. She followed him. He saluted the general.

  “We searched the camp and questioned the refugees. No one has seen or heard of a child matching the description of Margaret McGowan, sir.”

  Agnes clutched her heart, for she thought it might stop beating.

  The soldier left. The general offered his apologies to her. He promised to continue the search.

  “Two of our most trusted men will return you to your home,” he said. “I am sure you understand that under the circumstances, your journey must be under the cover of darkness in the interest of safety.”

  She thanked him despite the swell of pain in her breast. Within a quarter of an hour, she stood on the dock as two men readied the boat in which she had come with Edwin. They intended to drop her off and return to Sandy Hook in the same boat. Mr. Newton’s boat would become the property of the Loyalists.

  Agnes had been defeated. The enemy had won. She loved Margaret with all her soul. How could she live without her? Her hopes drowned in a morass of sorrow.

  The heavy thump of Edwin’s crutches sounded as he moved to stand beside her. “I came to offer my sympathy along with my grateful and eternal thanks.”

  “You told everyone you would find Margaret and return with her. You only wanted to return to your people.” Her throat grew tight. She would cry if she said another word.

  “I asked for a search and it was conducted. More inquiries will be made on the morrow as other Loyalist groups are questioned.”

  What had she expected? She knew that’s what would happen. He used her sister’s abduction to gain the sympathy of the townspeople and they willingly assisted in putting the boat in the water.

  “How will I explain what happened to you to my neighbors?” She had run out of lies.

  “Tell the truth, leaving out some details, of course. My sister found me, I received word of my father’s death, and I returned home.” He cleared his throat. “I am obligated to offer my mother my sincere condolences and apologies.”

  Agnes imagined the looks she would get from her neighbors. “They will not understand. For how can someone who had nothing to his name, but a pair of boots suddenly rush back home?”

  “I suppose you could say that at his death, I was left some money.”

  She sighed. “Perhaps…I shall say nothing.”

  “I am sorry about your sister. I am sorry I caused such difficulties for you. I will always be grateful to you.”

  “I wish…you would stay.”

  “I cannot. I must return. It is my duty to do so.”

  “And then?” Her voice wavered.

  “I do not know.”

  She strengthened herself with a deep breath. “Will you become a barrister as your sister says you must?”

  “You listened to our conversation,” he accused. Furrows marred his brow and she longed to smooth them away. He had been so happy and full of fun that morning as he entertained the twins. Already, the small, joyful incident seemed as if it happened a lifetime ago.

  She turned to watch the last rays of the sun turn the sky into a deep rose muted with puffs of violet clouds. “I could not help but hear, for you argued with her. Why would you want to return to a place where no one appreciates you?”

  His short laugh bore no trace of humor. “That’s the way it has always been. My family tells me what to do and I am supposed to fall in line and follow orders. I suppose that’s why I conducted myself so well in the army. It was a familiar environment. Do what you’re told or you get flogged.”

  “Did your parents flog you?” She whirled around in shock.

  “No, not with whips, but with words, which can hurt as much.” He glanced up at the sky and gave a deep sigh.

  “You are never coming back.” This would be their final goodbye. She would sail back to her emptiness and he would sail back to England.

  “What else can I do? My family believes me solely responsible for my father’s death. I must return and spend the rest of my life doing penance.”

  “It will not bring your father back.”

  “No, but if I behave responsibly, do what is expected of me, and grow to be a dour, boring member of society, they will stop trying to mold me into what they want me to be.”

  “Because you will be as they are.” She touched his handsome face, sliding her fingertips along his finely chiseled jaw. “From the first moment I saw you, I thought you were quite perfect. Do you believe they will ever be satisfied?”

  He lowered his head and closed his beautiful eyes, but he did not pull away. “You are right. They will find some other way in which I am deficient to their way of thinking.”

  “I will miss you.” Though her heart had already broken because she had lost her sister, she now experienced an even deeper pain. She realized that despite her adamant refusal to ever marry, she loved this man. No one would ever take his place in her affections. “You came into my life when I needed a friend and you became more than a friend.”

  “I did not mean for that to happen.” The words, low and tortured, sounded as a groan.

  “Because I am a Patriot and you consider me a traitor?” she asked.

  “I do not claim to know what is right and what is wrong anymore. I have seen barbarous acts committed by both sides. It is my sincerest hope for you to be safe and to live in peace.”

  She leaned into him and lifted her face
. His warm, soft lips bore down on hers. Farewell took away the sweetness she had found in his first kiss. This went deeper. Into her soul. She knew the memory of this one kiss must last through the long dark days ahead. The love she had for him held no hope and the agony of that fact had tears spilling from her eyes.

  He drew back. “Don’t cry.” He wiped the dampness away from her cheeks.

  “I am sorry.” She sniffed and tried to smile, but her lips quivered. “I will miss you terribly. If you have the chance, please write to me.”

  “I will, though I cannot say when.” He took in a ragged breath. “I will pray for you and your sister. And I, I will miss you forever.”

  She did not speak for a moment as her emotions whirled inside her. She leaned her head against his chest and listened to his heart pound fierce and strong. A measure of his strength filtered into her.

  “And I…I will love you forever.” Her voice sounded hoarse, but the words were distinct.

  She moved away. He said nothing as he turned and left her.

  Too numb to cry anymore, too broken inside to ever allow herself to care so deeply again, she closed her eyes. Until she met him, she thought she could live the rest of her life without the love of a man. Now she realized what she would be missing. Life without him would be an eternal wasteland.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Night descended and Agnes had no shawl to ward off the damp chill from the brisk breeze on the river. She shivered violently. The two men sailing the boat chastised her for her chattering teeth.

  “Keep yer mouth shut,” they whispered low. They watched the shoreline on both sides as if they expected to be attacked at any moment. One held a musket in his hands. Before beginning the journey, he rammed a ball down the muzzle and primed the pan. He needed simply to pull the trigger to fire, but his readiness to shoot did not lessen her anxiety.

  Clouds obliterated any light from the moon or stars. They sailed in total darkness with only the sound of crickets and the lap of the water against the wooden hull to guide them as they glided slowly onward. Now and then pale lights shone out along the bank, though Agnes did not know whether the soft glow came from the windows of houses or lanterns.

  She could not see the men’s faces, but she sensed their disquiet. Were other eyes watching the skiff’s progress from the shore? Did the flickering lights shining between the trees come from spies? If so, whose side were they on? Were they friend or foe? Loyalists, Joshua Huddy’s brave band of militia, or the dreaded Zimmer boys?

  The river narrowed as they traveled upstream to the area where the marshes stretched out on either side. The men made every effort to slide silently along the waterway. The wooden mast creaked and the sail fluttered at times, but the men sat still and shifted as little as possible.

  Neither of them bailed the water from the bottom of the boat and they forbid her to do so. They told her someone on the shore might hear the splash as she bailed. As a result, she sat in water up to her ankles.

  The journey became an endless misery, taking much longer than the rapid cruise with Edwin in the early afternoon. Like a leaded weight, her heart beat dully in her chest. She tried not to think about Edwin, but she still tasted the flavor of his parting kiss on her lips.

  She loved him. However, he did not love her. He would rather go back to his home and spend the rest of his days at a task he hated as an obligation to a family who would spend their time finding fault with him. He set his destiny for despair.

  Her future hung in the balance.

  She struggled to draw images in her mind of a joyful reunion with Margaret. Surely, the local militia who had gone in search of her sister had found her by now. Their skilled men were able to track any creature, man, or beast through dense woods.

  She told herself no one could be cruel enough to hurt a child, but even she did not believe that. There were wicked people in the world, and it did not matter whether they were Tories or Patriots. They committed evil acts and not just for revenge.

  She thought of the Zimmer brothers who had been mean from the day they were born. They enjoyed hurting other people.

  Her mind went round to Edwin again. He did not want to kill anybody. At least, as a barrister he would be safe. She decided to be grateful for that blessing.

  She thought of Aunt Sally who was just as brokenhearted about Margaret as she was. How would she tell her Aunt that Margaret had not been found?

  Suddenly, all of Agnes’s thoughts shattered as the boat bumped into the bank. Unprepared for the abrupt stop, she flew forward and landed on her knees in the ankle deep water.

  “Out,” one of the men whispered as he pushed her.

  She stumbled in the darkness, trying not to splash. “Where are we?”

  “Shhh,” he warned.

  She crawled ungraciously over the hull and landed in water up to her knees. The moment she went over the gunwale, the men pushed off with an oar. The sail fluttered and the wood squeaked as they spun the boom around.

  She slogged through the muddy river and made her way to the bank. A steep embankment rose above her and she had to climb it, without any light to guide her.

  She stumbled against a log and decided to sit on it for a moment, wrapping her arms around her body to keep warm. Never so weary in all her life, she longed to curl up and go to sleep right where she was.

  A few minutes later, the sound of firing muskets startled her. She scrambled to hide behind a tree. When she peered out from her cover, she saw the boat with its sail outlined against the flashing explosions of gunfire hitting it from the opposite shore. The men in the boat responded with their muskets, but they had only two. Another fierce volley burst from the hidden marauders in the woods. Agnes found it impossible to count the number of shots from the guns, but the noise from the barrage shook the ground.

  One of the men in the boat screamed.

  Silence ensued, with even the crickets pausing their nightly song. Some minutes passed before the victors shouted out their triumph.

  Her stomach churned and she heaved up what little she had eaten that day, leaving her weaker than ever. The men who had brought her back had suffered for it. If she had remained in the boat, she would have shared their fate.

  Somehow, despite her debilitated state, she started moving again. Murdering bands roamed the woods and riverbanks in the darkness. Though her sister was missing and she had lost the man she loved, Aunt Sally needed her as did the twins.

  Besides, she had vowed to find Margaret, and she would. Even if it took forever. Grabbing handholds on bushes and small trees, she dragged herself up the hill. At the top, she stumbled onto a path and followed it until it joined a familiar road.

  When she reached Aunt Sally’s house, she tossed another log on the dying embers in the hearth. She lay down beside it and pulled a rug over her. Then, at last, she slept. Too cold, too weary, too empty to do any more.

  * * *

  She woke to Aunt Sally’s screams the next morning. Her aunt sat doubled over on the bench beside the hearth.

  “It’s my time,” Aunt Sally cried as the pain lessened. “Fetch the midwife.”

  Afraid to leave her aunt alone, she sent the twins to get Hobart. She built up the fire, fetched more water, set the kettle to boiling, and dragged the floppy straw mattress downstairs along with several blankets.

  The twins came back with Hobart, but Agnes begged him to take them with him when he went to get the midwife. He understood.

  In between the pains, Agnes told her aunt what had happened. This time, she told the truth, from the fact that Edwin had been a British soldier to his real identity as the son of a duke. Since the duke had died, she explained that Edwin intended to return to England.

  “I knew he was not a common man, as he was far too genteel. A finer man than the miller, I’ll grant, but the miller is a good match nevertheless,” Aunt Sally pronounced before the next pain swamped her.

  Agnes went on to explain that her mother was the only daughter of an earl, wh
o was still living. “Edwin’s mother was my mother’s best friend.”

  She explained that Margaret had not been found on Sandy Hook, but the search would continue according to the general who appeared to be a man who kept his promises. Still, she reassured her aunt she would find her sister no matter how long it took.

  Aunt Sally patted her hand. “I know you will. Your mother would be proud of your constant devotion to her.”

  It was the nicest thing her aunt had ever said to her, and she struggled to hold back her emotion.

  The pains grew more severe and increasingly more frequent. Agnes held Aunt Sally’s hand, but in between, she wiped her face and tried to calm her.

  She decided this was not the time to tell her about the men in the boat and the ambush.

  When she began to feel lightheaded, she grabbed a chunk of cheese and a slice of stale bread. She needed some sustenance, but had no time to cook.

  The midwife arrived and took charge. Agnes handed the boys bread and cheese, too. Hobart hurried them outside for a picnic.

  The midwife spoke in a soothing voice and Aunt Sally gradually focused more on pushing than screaming. Within half an hour, the baby slid out into the midwife’s waiting hands.

  It was a girl. Aunt Sally cried. Agnes cried as she thought of Margaret’s birth twelve years ago. She remembered the event as clearly as if it happened yesterday.

  The efficient midwife wrapped up the infant and handed her to Agnes. A deep sense of contentment settled into her as she stared into the face of the tiny newborn. She had held Margaret shortly after her birth. Though Agnes had been only six at the time, it seemed to her as if Margaret was her baby even then. Other children had dolls, she had a real child of her own. Her lip quivered. She had to get Margaret back.

  Unbidden, Edwin’s image swam before her for a moment. He might be a wonderful father someday and she did not doubt he had the makings of an especially affectionate husband, but he did not love her. Her eyes grew misty.

  Obviously, he enjoyed the deference paid to him as Lord Greenly. The title of Lady Agnes might be part of her inheritance, but she found it far more appealing to be known as the blacksmith. Her job was satisfying, creative, and important.