“So is that ridiculous pile of palmetto logs they call a fort, on Sullivan’s Island,” Simon remarked, joining them. “It won’t last long.”
“You forget, schoolmaster, palmetto logs are spongy,” Peter countered. “They bend, but they don’t break. Meanwhile, the British ships sit out there like ducks on a pond. They’re the ones that won’t last long.”
“And if they’re driven off, you think they won’t return?” Simon asked.
“If they do, we’ll drive ’em off again!” Peter replied hotly.
“You’re an idle dreamer, Peter. You dream of American independence, but unfortunately, your ragtag rebels have no way to achieve it.”
“I think we do, Simon.” This was Hugh, his mild manner a soothing contrast to Peter’s fiery style. “We Americans can’t go on living under a distant king forever. A king who bleeds us for taxes but cares nothing for our welfare. No, we must become independent. It may not happen soon, but it will happen. It’s in our destiny. I can see it very clearly.”
Simon scowled. “Look here, Hugh. What you need to see—and what I came to tell you—is that when the British make it to shore, they’ll be coming after people like you. You’ve got to get out while you still can!”
“We appreciate your concern, my friend. But running is not our way.”
Lydia drew Jane aside. “Sorry about all this rebel talk, love. But don’t take it personally. Remember what Peter said: You’re among friends—”
Just then, Peter, squinting through his telescope, shouted, “Look at that—the Experiment’s taken a direct hit! And she’s listing badly, turning about!”
Hugh took the glass and confirmed the news. Then he and Peter swapped backslapping congratulations that even Lydia couldn’t resist joining. Simon looked on stone-faced, Jane in wide-eyed wonder.
“Come on, Cordwyn!” Peter cried. “Give a cheer for the valiant defenders of Sullivan’s Island!”
Simon snorted. “You want me to cheer for suicidal recklessness?”
Peter turned to Jane. “How about you, Miss Jane? I realize you can’t give your countrymen’s enemies a big cheer. Maybe just a little one?”
Jane hesitated, searching for words. “What can I say? I’m a loyal subject of King George. Yet, here in a house that stands against his rule, I’m told I’m among friends—and I truly believe that is so. I have no idea where right lies in all this. So I’ll just say three cheers for the valiant men, and may God protect them all, Englishmen and Americans alike!”
“Hear, hear!” exclaimed Hugh, delighted with Jane’s diplomatic reply.
Soon then, while the men stayed upstairs, Lydia invited Jane to come down to the kitchen with her while she prepared a bite to eat. There she busied herself while refusing Jane’s help.
“You sit, love. Just talk to me. Tell me about yourself.” Jane sat at the table and, in reply to Lydia’s questions, spoke of her life in England—this time trying to make it sound pleasant—and her voyage across the sea, which she admitted was a grueling ordeal. In her turn, Lydia told of how her first husband, Peter’s father, had started a tavern in Charlestown years ago. When her husband died, soon after Peter’s birth, she couldn’t keep the business going. Then she met Hugh, a lonely bachelor, and—
“Well, you can see my story has a happy ending,” she said with a smile.
Jane smiled back. “Just the kind I like.”
Soon the men came downstairs to take seats at the table. Simon was ready to admit he’d been mistaken. “The British fleet does seem to be withdrawing. But I still say celebrating is not in order. Even if they’re driven away today, they’ll surely be back before—”
He was interrupted by an urgent knocking at the door downstairs.
Lydia went tense. “Who could that be?” she wondered.
“I’ll go,” Peter said, and headed down to the ground floor.
The others waited, listening. They heard the creaking of the heavy front door as Peter opened it, followed by the sound of mumbled voices. Then with explosive suddenness, the mumbled voices became angry shouts. One of the angry voices was Peter’s. The other, immediately recognized by Jane, brought her to her feet in wide-eyed amazement.
“It’s Brandon Ainsley!” she cried, and flew downstairs.
Chapter 7
By the time Jane reached the ground floor, Peter and Brandon were eye to eye, snarling insults at each other.
Brandon, shaking himself loose from Peter’s grasp, said, “Get your filthy hands off me, you—”
Peter responded, “Watch your manners, you prissified dandy!”
“I’ll teach you some manners, villain!”
“Try it, Sir Dandy! Just you try it!”
They were coming at each other for physical combat when Jane stepped between them. “Stop it at once, both of you!” Her sharp tone startled them both into sullen obedience. Turning to Brandon then, she spoke in her usual calm manner. “Brandon, why are you here?”
He was still glowering from his tiff with Peter. “I am here because I was sent to fetch you. Uncle Robert and Aunt Clarissa have arrived in the city. And you, dear girl, are in trouble.”
Her calm destroyed, Jane paled and clutched her throat.
Then Simon was standing beside her. “Don’t worry, Jane. I’ll explain to your uncle that it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
“No, thanks all the same, Mr. Cordwyn. But I chose to come, and I’ll accept responsibility for my own actions.” She turned back to Brandon, and noticing that he and Peter were still glaring at each other, said, “Perhaps you could wait outside, Brandon. I’ll be only a minute.”
“Gladly!” he snapped, and went out.
Peter began to look sheepish. “Sorry, Jane. But he barged in here like he owned the place. Rubbed me the wrong way, that’s all.”
Jane gave him a sad smile. “It’s plain to see, Peter, that you and Brandon are two people who should never, ever be in the same room together.”
Brandon waited outside beside his carriage while Jane said her hasty good-byes, but on their ride home he was still in an ill temper. “Who was that ruffian who treated me so rudely?” he demanded.
“Cousin Hugh’s stepson, Peter Quincy,” Jane told him.
“Hmph! Next time I see him I’ll give him a good thrashing.”
More likely the other way around, Jane thought. “Of course you will, Brandon. Now tell me about Uncle Robert and Aunt Clarissa.”
He explained that rebel raids at Rosewall had delayed their return to the city. “Backwoods thieves thinking they’re Patriot heroes, raiding the slave quarters,” he muttered. “Scum of the earth!”
Finally able to get away, Robert had arrived with high hopes. “He wanted to be here to welcome back our royal governor the minute he stepped ashore when the British fleet docked. And, of course, he was also eager to meet you.”
But Robert had found his house on Legare Street so badly vandalized as to be uninhabitable. Meanwhile, the fleet was encountering stiff resistance, making the governor’s return impossible for the time being.
“And on top of all that, he learns that you’ve disobeyed his express orders and gone off with Cordwyn to visit that disreputable Hugh Prentice! I warned you about Cordwyn, Jane. But you wouldn’t listen.”
Jane gazed glumly out of the carriage window as she pondered her bad luck. How eagerly she had waited to meet her uncle! At last, it was to happen—but a meeting that should be joyous was now spoiled.
As Jane stepped out of the carriage at the Ainsleys’ house, she caught her breath at the sight of an elegandy gowned woman coming out onto the veranda. Her lustrous blond hair framed a perfect face, and she moved with exquisite grace. Jane knew instantly who she was, and came forward with hand extended. “Aunt Clarissa? I’m Jane Prentice.”
“So I assumed.” Clarissa coolly looked her up and down. Then she touched the worn fabric of Jane’s dress, and a pained expression distorted her beautiful face. “Oh, dear! You actually go out
in this?”
Jane felt like a peasant under royal scrutiny. “It’s the best I have.”
“And you, the daughter of an earl!”
“A penniless earl, I’m afraid.”
“Evidently. Well, if we ever get free of this infernal blockade and Arthur gets some decent merchandise again, we’ll fix that. Meanwhile, Robert’s waiting for you in Arthur’s study. And he’s quite angry. Of course, I understand how easily a young girl can fall under the spell of a devilishly attractive man like Simon Cordwyn, but—”
Jane recoiled in shock. “Oh, no, it’s not like that at all, I just—
“Explain yourself to Robert, dear. He’s waiting.”
So was Mrs. Morley, at the top of the stairs on the second floor. “I’m sorry, Jane—I hope you’re not angry with me. I had to tell them where you were.”
“Of course, Mrs. Morley. I understand.”
Moving on down the hall, Jane paused in front of the closed door of Arthur’s study. Inside, a furious argument was going on.
First Arthur: “That’s unfair, Robert. I’ve looked after her very well.”
Then Robert: “By allowing her to consort with a scoundrel like Cordwyn?”
“She does not consort with him. She attends his school.”
“And permitting her to be exposed to low-life rebels like Hugh!”
“Good Lord, Robert, I don’t know what you’re so agitated about. Both Simon and Hugh are perfectly decent, honorable men!”
Taking a deep breath, Jane knocked at the door.
Arthur opened it. “Come in, Jane. Your uncle wishes a word with you.”
She would have recognized Robert easily from the family resemblance. His dark hair, finely chiseled face, and piercing eyes were remindful of his late older brother—Jane’s father. His kinship with Hugh was not so readily seen. A few years older than Hugh, he was shorter, more compact and muscular—a tougher man, Jane surmised, than his easygoing cousin.
She stepped toward him. “Hello, Uncle Robert.”
He spent a moment examining her features, then, to her pleasant surprise, spoke gently. “Ah, yes. I see my dear brother, Edward, in your face.” But then he became stem. “I had hoped, Jane, to embrace you when we met and welcome you into my family. Regrettably, however, I am plagued by one misfortune after another. And now the unkindest cut of all—your willfully disobeying my orders by going with an unsuitable companion to a place specifically forbidden to you. Is it any wonder I’m ill-tempered?”
“No, Uncle,” Jane replied. “I’m truly sorry about your misfortunes, and I greatly regret that I’ve spoiled our meeting. It’s just that I wanted so badly to meet Cousin Hugh, I—”
“And since no one bothered to stop you, you just did as you pleased! I should have known better than to let you be brought to this house.”
“What the devil do you mean by that?” Arthur demanded hotly.
“I mean that I’ve always suspected this place of rebel sentiment!” Robert shot back. “We all know one of your friends is that notorious John Rutledge, who dares call himself president of the Republic of South Carolina!”
“Rutledge is an old friend of many years’ standing. Should I renounce him because we differ in our political views?”
“If he favors treason, yes, just as I have renounced Hugh! A man is known by the company he keeps, Arthur.”
“He is better known by his words and actions, Robert. I have never favored treason, and you know it. I refused to attend the Continental Congress in Philadelphia precisely because I feared some foolhardy action by that assembly.”
“Does that prove you’re loyal, or simply that you’re a coward?”
In the heat of argument, they seemed to have forgotten Jane’s presence, but now they were interrupted by Simon appearing in the doorway.
“Cordwyn!” Robert thundered. “How dare you take my niece to mix with street rabble, and expose her to all manner of traitorous talk!”
Simon came forward, ready with a calm reply. “I beg your pardon, sir, but Mr. Hugh Prentice is not street rabble. He’s an honest, hardworking citizen and a good friend. As for Miss Jane, you need have no fear of her being affected by rebel talk. She’s an exceedingly intelligent young lady with a mind of her own.”
But this only made Robert angrier. “Well, you have no right to take her anywhere. You owe me an immediate apology for your actions!”
Simon’s voice was now tinged with anger as well. “If I have caused Miss Jane to incur your disfavor, sir, I am very sorry, for she is innocent of so much as any thought of wrongdoing. If an apology is due, it is to her, and I offer it now.” He bowed slightly to Jane, who stared back in astonishment. “But I fail to see how my escorting Miss Jane to her cousin’s home requires an apology to you, and I must decline to give it.”
Robert was outraged. “The devil you say!” Arthur again became the object of his anger. “Arthur, I told you years ago that bringing this man here was a grievous mistake. He’s an insolent scoundrel! He’s got to go!”
“That’ll be all, Simon,” Arthur said quietly. “Thank you for coming.”
Simon nodded, and after a long look at Jane, went out. Arthur then turned to Robert. “I find this discussion very tiresome, so I’ll excuse myself as well.” Starting for the door, he paused in passing Jane to speak softly to her. “Don’t let him frighten you, my dear. He’s not as ferocious as he pretends to be.”
He seems quite ferocious enough, thought Jane. “I’m truly sorry for any distress I’ve caused you, Uncle Robert. But Mr. Cordwyn is not at fault. I persuaded him to take me to Cousin Hugh’s. Blame me, please, not him.”
“I do blame him, for his insolence,” Robert snapped. “And Arthur, for leaving you unsupervised. And you, for being disobedient. That I cannot tolerate. Only the fact that you’re a highborn English lady prevents me from sending you to your room without supper, as a badly behaved child should be!”
Now a glint of defiance came into Jane’s eyes. “In that case, sir, I suggest you disregard my highborn status. If it would please you to punish me, then do so.”
Robert blinked, taken aback by her sudden show of spirit. When he spoke again it was in a calmer tone. “I must go now. Thanks to rebel thugs, I need to see about repairs on my house. Please pack your things tonight, because we leave for Rosewall first thing in the morning. This is no fit place for you, Jane. Perhaps out in the country, away from the undesirable influences here, you may learn to behave like the proper lady you were bom to be.”
“I shall do my best, sir. And now, if I may be excused?”
Head high, with serene dignity, she turned and went out, heading upstairs to her room. Her thoughts were in turmoil. Learn to be a lady, must I? But how am I ever going to learn to get along with that tyrant?
Fretfully she felt for her locket. Only this time, it wasn’t there.
Chapter 8
Mrs. Morley looked in on Jane later, to find her slumped in her bedroom chair. “What happened, dear? Was Mr. Robert terribly angry with you?”
“I fear so, yes. He told me I must learn to behave like a lady.”
“Hmph! You’re already the finest lady he’s ever likely to meet.”
“He was also furious with Mr. Cordwyn, which was extremely unfair. But we have to remember, it hasn’t been a good day for Uncle Robert. His house has been vandalized, and the royal governor’s return was postponed.”
“And some even worse news just arrived,” Mrs. Morley said. “The British ships suffered so much damage in the bombardment, they’ve given up and sailed away.”
“Really!” Jane had noticed that the distant cannon fire had long since stopped, a fact accounted for by this latest news. So Peter Quincy had been right—and to Jane’s surprise, she couldn’t decide whether to be sad or glad.
“I have some bad news of my own, Mrs. Morley,” she said then, rising from her chair. “I hate to tell you this, but you’d notice eventually, anyway. My locket came off somewhere, and now it’s missi
ng.”
“Oh, merciful heavens!” Mrs. Morley cried. “What’s to be done?”
“I have to find it, that’s what’s to be done. I’m going to start immediately after supper, if Uncle Robert will allow it.”
But Robert was not at the supper table—only Harriet, Clarissa, Jane, and Mrs. Morley gathered there. Arthur had gone off on some unspecified “business,” and Robert, accompanied by Brandon, had gone to see about his damaged house. Conversation between Harriet and Clarissa was mostly limited to domestic matters, as if both were determined to steer clear of the day’s important events.
Jane waited, and when the opportunity arose, she brought up the subject of her missing locket. “Not that it’s especially valuable,” she explained. “Except to me. It’s the only thing I have that belonged to my mother.”
“After supper we’ll launch a thorough search,” Harriet
“What worries me is that I might have lost it at Cousin Hugh’s,” Jane went on. “So I was wondering, Aunt Clarissa—if we don’t find it, do you suppose Uncle Robert would mind awfully if I ran back to Hugh’s, and—”
“Good gracious, Jane!” Clarissa exclaimed. “I wouldn’t dare suggest such a thing to him! He’s so hostile toward Hugh, the mere mention of the name sends him into an apoplectic fit.”
Harriet offered a solution. “I’ll send a servant to inquire.”
It was done. In the meantime, the women spent an hour after supper scouring the house in search of the locket. It was nowhere to be found. The servants were questioned, but none could recall seeing it. The one who had been sent to inquire at Hugh’s returned, saying that the people there had found no locket.
Clarissa tried in vain to console the inconsolable Jane. “Now don’t fret, dear. Losing a locket is not the end of the world. I’m sure we can find you another pretty necklace to wear.”
Jane forced a smile. Another pretty necklace—to replace my mother’s! How little understanding the beautiful Clarissa possessed. With a sigh of resignation, she began to pack for the trip to Rosewall the next morning.
Just Jane Page 4
