by Ann Rinaldi
I hated Mrs. Potts at that moment more than I’d ever hated anyone. As soon as I could, I cornered Mr. Moore.
“Mr. Moore, do you think the Lord is with the British?”
“The day is not over yet, Jemima. I’d wait a while before venturing to say what side the Lord is on. There is a swift current beneath that river. It will stay alive and moving and strong under the coat of ice.”
“So will I, Mr. Moore.”
He smiled at me. “I would speak with thee, Jemima. We have offered to take thy mother until she comes out of her bereavement. Would thee think of coming home with us?”
“No, sir. I wasn’t thinking on it. I’ll stay here with Lucy.”
“But a young girl and a servant alone in a town occupied by Hessians—”
“We’ll be all right, Mr. Moore. The Hessians wouldn’t dare bother us. Killing my father was bad enough. You told me yourself how upset Rall was over it.”
“We don’t know yet that it was these Hessians who killed him, child. Control the hate in thy heart until thee is sure.”
“I’m sure. And I hate them for it. I don’t care if it’s sinful to hate. And I’m staying. If you take Mother, that will give Lucy and me more time to care for the house and the shop.”
“The shop!” He was dumbfounded. “Certainly thee can’t be thinking of running the shop! I could not, with the affection I have for thy parents, allow—”
“Oh, Mr. Moore, please! It meant so much to my father. And it would make me feel so much better! It would be like … keeping a part of Father alive!”
He was shaking his head. “Two women alone, child.”
“The shop is our livelihood, Mr. Moore. Would you have me give it up? And if we leave, the shop will be ransacked again! And the house! I’d die if that happened. You wouldn’t want me to die, would you?”
It turned out he didn’t want me to die. He summoned Lucy into Father’s study, though, and satisfied himself that she was not only devoted but quick-witted and sensible before he would give permission.
“Jemima, thy father often told me that thee was the most difficult one to reason with,” he said. “I’ll check on thee whenever I can.”
Lucy and I were sitting before the fire in the parlor that night when there was a knock on the door. Lucy put a finger to her lips. We waited, but the knocking became a pounding. It kept on until Lucy got up and opened the door.
There were five Hessians—three hulking men dressed in the red and white of the Von Lossberg Regiment and two women who wore coarse clothing.
“You cannot come into this house. We have had a death here.” Lucy stood her ground, speaking in perfect English. But they pushed past her and came into the parlor, warming themselves before the fire.
Again Lucy demanded they leave, but they ignored her. I looked over at the fireplace where Father’s musket would be, but it had been lost that night when he went out on his mission.
“Leave this house!” I said firmly. “We have friends and they’ll be here to check on us.”
They only laughed at me. One of the women came toward me, muttering in a pacifying tone. Then, reaching out, she touched the gold and ivory locket I wore pinned to the front of my short gown. She said something I did not understand. Was she directing me to take it off? I shook my head no. Then she yanked hard and pulled it off, ripping the material of my short gown with it.
I screamed. “Give me that! It’s mine!” She slapped me on the face, hard. I reeled and caught myself, and in an instant Lucy was between us, holding onto me.
“How dare you come into this house and behave in such a manner? This is our home! Have you no respect?”
The Hessian captain stepped forward and rebuked the woman sharply. She moved back, cringing under his harsh words.
“I want my locket. Give it back to me.”
She held it against her bosom. The captain spoke sharply again, and like a child she yielded the locket to me. The captain bowed, speaking in halting English to Lucy. He explained that they had been sent to secure quarters for a British officer and our house was suitable, since it was so nice and large. And he had his orders. The British officer would take possession in a day or so. In the meantime, if we stayed confined to our chambers, no harm would come to us.
The captain himself saw us upstairs. He bowed, assuring us that we had no worries. If we would bolt our door from the inside, we would sleep safely through the night.
Inside my room, I started to cry. “What will we do, Lucy?”
She quieted me, bathing my face and making me undress before I got into bed. Then she lay down next to me and held me, for I was trembling.
“But Lucy, what will we do?”
“We stay together,” she said, “and we say our prayers.”
I marveled at Lucy’s courage. The next morning when we went downstairs, I screamed when I saw Hessian women cutting up dead chickens on Mama’s good cherry dining room table. But Lucy just pulled me along to the kitchen. There she directed the Hessians to leave, saying it was her kitchen and that she would make the breakfast. They obeyed.
She set a mug of hot coffee and corn bread down before me. “We don’t bother them, no matter what they be doin’. No matter what they take. You hear? Don’t be afraid. It be only a house, only furniture, only things!”
“I’m not afraid, Lucy.”
“Yes, you are. It don’t matter bein’ afraid. It matters showin’ them. They won’t hurt us.”
“How do you know?”
“I knows. Because if they try, I’ll kill them.”
That day and night the Hessians stayed in our house, and Lucy became my whole sanity and hope. She became my family. It still hurt, though, when the Hessian women went through Mama’s linen press and took out her finely woven things, and when they confiscated some of Father’s clothes from the bedroom.
When their men came back that night they gathered downstairs, eating and drinking my father’s best rum, singing their songs, laughing and banging things around.
Upstairs in our chamber we listened. “They be drunk,” Lucy said.
It got cold. We had no more wood for the fire and we’d had no supper. We wrapped ourselves in quilts and listened to the commotion. Laughter resounded through the house. Once or twice something smashed. It sounded as if my mother’s whole sideboard crashed to the floor in the dining room.
“Maybe I sneak down and git some food,” Lucy said.
“No, Lucy. We do have something.” I jumped up and went to my wooden chest, where I’d kept the supply of pemmican Canoe had given me. And so we ate pemmican that night.
At about ten o’clock, there was a knock on the front door. We heard a sharp, clear voice with a British accent, then silence. It got quiet after that, with only the occasional sounds of low conversation.
There were murmurs, exclamations from the Hessians, and then it seemed like an argument between the British and the Hessians. The door banged and we heard the Hessians out in the street. I ran to the window and saw them bundled up, walking away.
“They’re leaving, Lucy!” I was jubilant.
“The British,” she said, “they come.”
I didn’t know whether to rejoice or be more worried.
“They be civilized, at least,” Lucy said.
“I’ve heard stories that they’re not so civilized sometimes, Lucy.”
“We see in the morning. In the morning I be up early. We see about the British.”
CHAPTER
27
He was so young. He was as young as Daniel, surely. In the bright sunlight he stood in the middle of our parlor, and the red of his coat sent a shock through me.
The British were in our house.
He was pacing restlessly. He wore snow-white breeches, and his black boots covered his knees in front. His spurs were silver and flashed in the sun, as did the silver fringe on the blue velvet epaulets on his shoulders. His crimson sash was silk, I was sure of it, and his sword had an elaborate silver hilt.
But it was his helmet that frightened me the most. It was made of black leather with red horsehair streaming out from a silver comb on top. On the front plate was the letter C and underneath it was written “The Queen’s.”
He bowed when he saw us and took his helmet off in one sweeping gesture. He was very blond. But before he got a chance to talk, Lucy ran and knelt at his feet.
“Sir, we are two women alone. The Hessians have terrorized us and frightened this poor child, who so recently lost her father. I ask you, sir, I beg you, if you consider yourself civilized, to have mercy on two women whose men have been taken by the war. Restore civility to this Christian home. Allow us to conduct ourselves in a dignified manner and proceed unharmed, and your stay will be most comfortable.”
I couldn’t believe those words were coming out of Lucy! The sun streamed in on the fair hair of the handsome young British officer as he looked down on her. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “Where is your mistress?”
“She is with friends, sir. She is bereaved and in shock after the death of her husband. But I am a free woman.”
“Get on your feet. I want no woman kneeling before me, free or otherwise.”
Lucy stood.
“Who, then, is the mistress of this house?”
“Jemima Emerson.” Lucy turned toward me. “I am in her employ.”
He drew himself to attention, with his strange black helmet tucked under one arm. “Miss, may I present myself. I am Captain Andrew Bygrave of the Sixteenth Light Dragoons. I apologize for the intrusion and offer condolences for the death of your father and for the wanton destruction of your house. I shall have the Hessians come back to restore it to its former condition. We are stationed at the Friends Meeting House, but my commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel William Harcourt, requests the use of your home for a day and a night. He needs a warm fire, some decent food, and a place of quietude to confer with his officers. In return, on my word as an officer in His Majesty’s army, I promise you the right to move about freely. You and your maidservant shall be accorded the utmost respect and protection.”
He finished his speech and waited. I studied the handsome face, but his feelings were well concealed.
“You can’t be more than twenty,” I said.
“I was at Brooklyn Heights and White Plains, miss. I’ve seen my share of fighting.”
“I have a brother your age. He’s away fighting. But the last I saw him, he looked very ragged. You have fine clothes and boots. I have a dear friend who is close to death in north Jersey, who was on the retreat with Washington.”
“I’m deeply sorry for that, miss.”
“How can you be? How can you know how it feels to have someone you have cared about and grown up with, dying?”
“I believe I do somewhat, miss. I lost my brother at Breed’s Hill.”
I didn’t know what to say then. And for the first time I saw a flicker of emotion in his face.
“You may stay,” I said. “You’re probably better than the Hessians. Although that remains to be seen.”
He bowed again and relaxed. “Do you have any food, miss? Could your maidservant fetch me a bit of breakfast? And perhaps, later, some supper for my commanding officer? We’re a long way from home, and it is Christmas Day.”
I had forgotten that it was Christmas Day! Had my family been home we would have gone to church and had a fine feast afterward. I couldn’t help remembering last Christmas when Mama and Lucy had prepared food for days and Raymond Moore had asked me to write to him and John Reid had toasted me. How long ago it seemed!
At ten that morning, after he had breakfasted, our young captain was about to leave for parade-and-inspection when there was a knock on the door. He answered it. I heard him talking for a moment; then he came to the kitchen, where I was helping Lucy with the cooking.
“A note for you, miss. Delivered by Mr. Potts’s servant.”
I stared at it, shaking. From John? Impossible! Who, then? I accepted the note, and he stood and waited while I read it.
It was from the Moores. They had received word that Raymond had died. Mr. Moore was on his way north to bring home the body. My mother was doing fine, they wrote, and soon I would be able to come and see her. Ruth and Betsy would care for the place until Mr. Moore returned.
I crumpled it up, the tears coming down my face. The young captain stepped forward. “May I be of help?”
“What is it, child?” Lucy asked. I gave the note to her.
“I’m all right,” I told Captain Bygrave. “My friend, the one I told you about, has died.”
“I’m so very sorry. If there is anything I can do …”
“Do?” I stared at him. “You’ve done it all! You have done all you can do. To all of us!”
He stepped back, white-faced, as if I had struck him. He turned on his heel and walked out.
True to his word, the Hessians returned and straightened the house while he was gone. When he came back at two with his commanding officer and two brother officers, the house was in order and the Hessians were gone. The officers went straight to the parlor, where Lucy had a fire laid. When she went in to bring brandy and a light repast, I followed and got a glimpse of them lounging on our chairs, their fine red coats open in front.
“God, this is a finely appointed house,” I heard one of them say. “Makes one feel almost civilized again.”
I ran back to the kitchen and kneaded my dough. Tears were falling from my face a few moments later when the captain appeared.
“I wish to speak to Miss Emerson.”
Lucy nodded, and he came to the table. “You’re crying. I’ll leave if my presence so distresses you.”
“It isn’t you. I mean, not you yourself. It’s just …”
“I understand. I came to ask if you would sup with us this evening. My commanding officer wishes me to ask.”
“I think not.”
“It is Christmas Day. You would honor us.”
“I don’t wish to honor you, sir.”
I saw him quickly conceal the disappointment in his face. He bowed slightly. “If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know.” He started to walk away.
“Captain.”
“Yes?”
“You could. A little matter. But it would mean much to me.”
“Well?”
“You have a horse in our barn.”
“We took the freedom of stabling our horses in your barn, yes.”
“If I could pay him a visit.”
He frowned.
“I had a horse and we had to send him away. I miss him dearly. We have our carriage horses but they aren’t the same. I could bring yours some dried apple.”
I saw the hint of a smile in his face. “My horse is in the last stall,” he said. Then he turned and left.
His horse was black, and I was surprised to see that it was fully harnessed. It whinnied and nuzzled me as I approached, grateful for companionship. I gave it dried apple and patted its silken head.
“Where did you come from?” I murmured. The closeness of it, its sounds and smells, all reminded me of Bleu. I stood patting it, letting the hot tears come down my face. From where I stood, I could see the officers having their after-supper coffee in the light of the oil lamps in our parlor.
I wanted my father to be in the parlor. I wanted to go in and find him there with my mother and John Reid.
“Did you come all the way across the sea to visit me?” Talking to the horse eased my misery.
“He came on a horse boat. The trip took four months. And the rotting transport I came over on was not much better.”
The young British officer was standing, hatless, his coat open, a glass of wine in his hand, watching me rather unsteadily. I felt a shiver of fear. He was not yet drunk but had a pleasant sort of haziness about him. He moved closer.
“We’re both here only since July, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I’ve been dr
inking, yes. It eases my misery, but you needn’t be afraid. I’ve no intention of harming you.”
“I wasn’t afraid.”
“Yes, you were. I saw it in your eyes a moment ago. You’re heard stories about us ravishing women. Don’t you think, if I were going to ravish you, I would have tried it already?”
I said nothing.
“I’m not the kind who ravishes women. Anyway, I’ve a sister your age. She’s a dear child, and I hadn’t realized how much I missed her until I met you.”
“I have two brothers. And I miss them every day.”
We fell silent.
“What’s your horse’s name?” I asked.
“Cicero.”
“Why do you keep him fully harnessed?”
“Orders. We must be in readiness at all times. Colonel Rall has been advised that the Americans might attack, but he considers it old women’s talk. Still, we must be in readiness.”
The Americans attack! I felt a thrill, but I kept my voice normal. “His blanket is very handsome.”
“Did you ride your horse much when you had him?”
“Every day. My grandfather gave him to me. He’s away now, helping to put down an Indian uprising.”
“This is a strange and wild country. Sometimes I wonder what in God’s name I’m doing here, thousands of miles from home.”
“It’s a fine country. It’s ours and we … we mean to keep it,” I told him firmly. “You’ll find that out.”
“My, you’re a dyed-in-the-wool Rebel, aren’t you?”
“I just wanted to tell you what to expect.”
“I know what to expect. The Americans can fight. They’ve simply had a streak of bad luck. I heard what they did at Breed’s Hill. Anyone who underestimates them is a fool.”
“Have your superiors underestimated them?”
He drained his glass of wine. “General Howe was advised at Long Island that Washington was retreating, and he took his sweet time before giving orders to advance. And Cornwallis had orders from Howe not to advance beyond New Brunswick. Howe was content to keep East Jersey. Then Cornwallis delayed seventeen hours at Princeton when he should have been pursuing Washington. He took a whole day to march twelve hours to Trenton. Had he not delayed, we would have had the Americans before they crossed the river.”
