It was said that since Williamsburg had been settled by the English, it resembled an English village, though Lavender could not attest to that fact since she had never been to England. A tree-lined avenue offered a view of neat white wooden houses, intermingled with an occasional brick home. Green lawns, flower gardens, and tall mulberry trees added to the picture of the serene village. Fashionably dressed matrons and their young daughters paraded from shop to shop, interested in the latest fashions and fabrics.
Raising her gown so the buckles on her black leather shoes were visible, Lavender crossed the muddy street. A bell tinkled as she pushed the door open and entered the Pasteur and Gait Apothecary Shop where Dr. Gait had set up office. On the shelves, in blue-and-white apothecary jars, were herbs and medicines and even tobacco, their aromatic scents pleasing to the senses. On the wall hung a diploma in surgery, anatomy, and general medicine which Dr. Gait had earned from a London hospital.
Behind the counter, Martha Spencer's round face beamed with delight as she welcomed Lavender with a smile. Martha was the town gossip, though most people thought her harmless since she was so kindly and good-natured.
"The doctor told me to expect you this morning, Lavender."
"Is he in?"
"No, dear." She reached under the counter and handed Lavender a packet of medicine. "Doctor says to mix this with vinegar and honey and give your aunt one level spoonful every six hours. How is your aunt this morning, dear? Did she pass a comfortable night?"
"Yes, for the most part. Doctor Gait diagnosed her as having influenza and assured me she would be up and about in a week's time."
Martha went back to her task of folding white gauze into bandages. "1 can't imagine anything keeping Amelia abed. She is such a strong personality, I can guess that her temperament does not make her an amiable patient."
"My aunt is accustomed to an active life; she has very little patience with idleness. Even in her sickbed she insists on doing her mending."
Martha placed a neat roll of bandages into a covered jar and gave her entire attention to Lavender. "Are you still working at the Public Hospital?"
"Yes, Mrs. Spencer." Lavender wanted to leave before Martha Spencer started her inquisition, but as she edged toward the door, the older woman began firing questions at her.
"I do not believe that is a respectable occupation for a young unmarried girl, since it is a hospital for the mentally ill. I am told that you are called to the hospital at odd hours and sometimes stay overnight. How can your aunt approve of such goings-on?"
"Aunt Amelia is of the opinion that any honest work is acceptable. She also believes that service to the less fortunate is worthwhile." Lavender felt the need to defend her aunt to the prying Mrs. Spencer.
"No doubt she likes the money you bring in, too. I never could understand how someone with Amelia's money could live so miserly. I wonder what your dear father would have said if he were alive."
"I am sure he would adhere to my aunt's good judgment. My father trusted his sister or he would never have given her guardianship over me."
"Poor man, to think that he was a casualty of this war. What a pity he had to linger in agony from his wounds before he finally found peace. I never did know the exact circumstances of how he was shot, dear."
"Mrs. Spencer, could you blend several different herbs to make a drink for my aunt? She does so miss her tea." Lavender artfully changed the subject, as she always did when anyone asked about her father's death. It wouldn't do for anyone to know her father had been a spy. Hopefully, when the war was ended everyone would know he had died a hero.
"Of course, I have a delightful blend of herbs and spices that seems to please several of our ladies. Tell me, Lavender, do you ever hear from your brother? I suppose if the young man isn't dead he's chasing after the war like all the other hotheads his age. One wonders if this war will ever end. What's a lady to do with all the French troops crowding our streets and eyeing our young girls. A person can't tell friend from foe. 1 declare it has me jumping at shadows."
Before Lavender could answer, the bell over the door tinkled, announcing a newcomer. Lavender sighed with relief when she saw it was her friend, Elizabeth Eldridge. As the two girls embraced, Elizabeth whispered in Lavender's ear, "I saw you through the window and came in to rescue you."
Lavender gave her friend a thankful smile as she turned back to Martha Spencer. "I must be going now, Mrs. Spencer. Have a good day." She could read the disappointment in the older woman's eyes, and she knew that Mrs. Spencer would not be put off for long. She would most certainly ask her questions at another time. Lavender knew that many people were puzzled because she helped out at the hospital.
As the two girls walked along arm in arm, in the brisk spring air, Elizabeth's green silk gown rustled while Lavender's homespun gown was rough and uncomfortable. "Lavender, when are you going to get rid of those horrid black gowns and put on something cheerful? I happen to know that somewhere beneath that appalling creation lurks my lovely friend Lavender."
Elizabeth Eldridge flicked the stiff white toque that covered Lavender's hair before continuing her lecture. "And another thing. Remove that thing from your head and allow your glorious golden hair to breathe. I declare, you dress and act like a woman twice your age. Mama says one grows old soon enough, and one need not hurry the process."
A smile curved Lavender's lips. This was not the first time Elizabeth had chided her about her appearance, and most probably it would not be the last. The two had been friends since the Eldridges moved to Williamsburg five years ago, and Lavender had always admired Elizabeth's honesty and loyalty.
"What else does your mother say, Lizzy?"
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. "As a matter of fact, Mama says you are a good influence on me and she wishes that I were more like you. She thinks you studious and serene."
"Heaven forbid!" Lavender exclaimed in mock horror. "If that notion gets around, I will be ruined for sure."
"Stop changing the subject and answer me. When are you going to add color to your wardrobe?"
"Lizzy, I am not like you. You would look lovely if you dressed in an old sack." Lavender glanced at Elizabeth. She was blessed with blue eyes that sparkled with good health and soft auburn hair that framed a small, heart-shaped face.
"You and 1 both know you are far lovelier than I am, Lavender, and don't pretend otherwise. You have never given me a satisfactory answer as to why you dress like some old spinster who can't catch a beau and wouldn't know what to do with one if she did."
Humor danced across Lavender's face. "Lizzy, you know that 1 have no interest in fashion. Sometimes 1 feel years older than you. I have no interest in having beaux dance in attendance to me. Besides, I dress to please myself."
Elizabeth refused to be put off. "You could have a number of beaux if you didn't insist on frightening all the men away with your obvious disinterest and tedious, bookish ways." Sparing no words, her friend continued. "While we are on the subject, there is one other thing I want to inquire in: Why do you insist on wearing those disagreeable-looking spectacles?"
Lavender smiled and adjusted the silver-rimmed glasses to her eyes. "I can see better with them."
"Nonsense," Elizabeth argued, removing the glasses from Lavender's face and holding them to her own eyes. "It's just as I suspected. These glasses do not improve your eyesight one whit. They are just another ploy you use to make yourself appear dowdy. Why are you doing this? Do you want to spend the rest of your life as a bitter old woman like your aunt?"
Lavender stopped in her tracks and her blue eyes lost their luster. "Most people don't understand Aunt Amelia. True, she is not of an outgoing temperament, but she has taken care of me and given me a home."
"Huh, you have slaved for her and become an unpaid servant. When was the last time you attended a party or had a new gown?"
"There is a war going on, Lizzy."
"1 am aware of that, Lavender, but I care about what happens to you. I have come to susp
ect that there are things in your life that you don't share with anyone. Why do you make all those mysterious trips to the hospital and sometimes stay for- days? I hurt for you, Lavender."
"You are my best friend, Lizzy, and I know that you think you know what is best for me—but you don't. I do what I must, and if you are truly my friend, you will try to understand, and please do not ask questions."
"Tish tosh. I always thought you would make a great actress. This is me, your friend who knows you better than you know yourself, so don't try to deceive me. Why can't you tell me what is really going on in your mind? Why does a lovely young woman like yourself suddenly pull into her shell and cease to live? Why must you spend so much time at the Public Hospital?"
Lavender realized that Lizzy was becoming much too inquisitive, so she had to appease her. It would not do for anyone, not even her best friend, to suspect she only pretended to spend such long hours at the hospital, or why she disguised her appearance.
"I do not have time to discuss this with you today. I have to get this medicine back to Aunt Amelia."
Elizabeth laid her hand on Lavender's. "I have finished tormenting you for today, but I will continue to have your best interests at heart. You are spirited and alive, yet you seem to be contented with so little."
Lavender pondered very carefully before answering. "I thank you for your friendship and your concern, but I can assure you that there is no need to worry on my account. You will have to trust me in this."
A dozen questions tumbled in Elizabeth's head, but she knew now was not the time to voice them. "What am I to do with you, Lavender? You just won't listen to reason."
Lavender smiled impishly. "A moment ago you called me spirited, while Aunt Amelia says I am spineless. 1 wonder which one of you is correct?"
Elizabeth tapped her foot angrily. "I don't mean to be unkind, but your aunt is just a bitter old woman. She doesn't know what it is to feel young. I have watched her try to break your spirit for years. I fear she has half succeeded. I promise you that I will not give up on you, Lavender. I could never resist a challenge . . ." Lizzy's eyes sparkled. ". . . and I am determined to be your salvation."
The two young ladies' laughter blended until Lavender's face sobered, and she lowered her lashes. "Trust me, Lizzy. I cannot confide in you at the moment. It is as much for your protection as my own. You cannot testify to what you are ignorant of."
Elizabeth's face whitened. "Don't talk like that, Lavender, it makes me frightened for you. What are you involved in?"
Lavender linked her arm through her friend's. "Is it not a lovely day? The rainstorm yesterday made everything look so green. Don't you just love the way the air smells after a rain? I believe spring is my favorite time of year."
Elizabeth knew Lavender was purposely changing the subject. She sighed wearily and tried to dismiss her unsettled thoughts. "Yes, I do believe spring is a favorite with me also," she added in defeat. "But I do predict stormy days ahead for you. Just remember I am your friend."
Lavender's eyes clouded with pain. "I will remember."
"Tell me," Elizabeth asked, moving to a safer subject. "Can it be true that your aunt is taking in a lodger?"
"Yes, it is true. Aunt Amelia had posted a notice in the Virginia Gazette, and she received a letter from a gentleman called Julian West who lives in Georgia. He will be arriving some time this week."
"Why ever would your aunt take in a boarder? Surely she can't need the money since her needs are so simple."
A worried frown creased Lavender's brow. "I do not know, Lizzy. I fear Aunt Amelia is sometimes eccentric. I try to humor her when I can."
"Surely you cannot humor her by allowing a complete stranger to live under the same roof?"
"My aunt said Mr. West has impressive credentials. He will be placed in the east wing so he can have his own entrance and come and go as he likes."
"Do you know anything else about the man? How old is he?"
"I have no idea."
"It all sounds very odd to me." Even as she spoke, Elizabeth realized her friend's mind was somewhere else and she could feel her withdrawing into some secret place. A place where no one else could intrude. Even dressed in black and hiding behind the glasses, Lavender could not disguise her beauty. Elizabeth silently assessed her friend. She was tall for a girl, willowy and delicate. Deep-blue eyes were perfectly framed with thick, sooty lashes. Lavender's features were lovely beyond words. It hurt Elizabeth that her friend had chosen to live like a recluse ever since her father had died. Very little was known about the manner in which Samuel Daymond had met his end. Even now Lavender refused to discuss her father with anyone.
Elizabeth stopped beneath a cherry tree and examined the delicate buds. Her heart was saddened because Lavender was alone in the world except for her ailing aunt. She thought perhaps Lavender would be different if only her twin brother Chandler would come home.
"Tell me, Lavender, have you any news from Chandler?"
"Not in the past two months. He has chosen to ride with the Virginia Militia, as opposed to joining the Continental Army. I never know where he is at any given time. I am just hopeful that he is alive."
By now they had reached the Eldridges' backyard and Lizzy seated herself in a swing that had been hung in the tall mulberry tree. "I am still worried about your aunt taking a stranger in the house."
"You needn't be. Nicodemus sleeps over the kitchen. I can assure you he always looks after me."
"Yes, thank goodness you have Nicodemus. Papa says he has never before seen such devotion in a bond servant."
"You know we don't think of Nicodemus as a bond servant. My father brought him home the day Chandler and 1 were born. He helped bury my mother when she died. He worked off his debt to my family several years ago. Yet when my father was . . . killed, Nicodemus came to Williamsburg to be with me and my aunt. He is really like family to me, and my aunt tolerates him better than she does most people."
Lavender gazed at the sun and gauged it to be almost noon. "1 must leave now, Aunt Amelia may need me."
"Why don't you have lunch with me? Mama has a new pattern book that we could look through."
"I wish I could stay, but there is so much to do today."
Elizabeth walked with Lavender to the picket fence that divided the two properties. Lavender waved as she rushed through the gate and into the house, leaving Elizabeth to stare after her with a worried frown on her face. Something was dreadfully wrong with Lavender, and she did not know what it was.
Lavender sat at her aunt's bedside, watching the uneven rise and fall of the older woman's chest. The medicine Dr. Gait prescribed seemed to have soothed her to sleep and allowed her to breathe easier.
Quietly, so she wouldn't disturb her aunt, Lavender moved over to the window and stared out at the storm clouds gathering in the east. How strange her life had become. If Lizzy only knew the intrigue and danger Lavender was involved in, she would be horrified. Lavender smiled as she remembered her friend's conversation today. Elizabeth was not easy to fool and had finally guessed that Lavender's drab appearance was only a disguise. Of course, she could never guess what Lavender was trying to hide. It was better to hide behind the glasses of a drab little bird, so no one would ever guess she was actually the Swallow!
Lavender had been surprised to learn about the large network of spies that operated out of Williamsburg. Forbes Duncan and his wife Sarah were her contacts. They worked at the hospital and made it possible for her to slip in and out of town without being discovered. Their main assignment was to cover for her when she had to leave town. Clothes were hidden there for her in a secret room in the stable. And several horses were kept there for her and Nicodemus's use.
Lavender was thoughtful for a moment. It had been a month after her father had died that Brainard Thruston had sought her out. With very little effort, he had convinced her to take her father's place. Now she was so deeply involved in intrigue that there was no turning back. She had become very good at h
er job. Oh, yes, the British would give much to get their hands on the Swallow. Brainard had shown her a handbill where some British nobleman, whose name she had forgotten, was offering one hundred pounds for the capture of the Swallow. There was danger everywhere, and one could not always tell Whig from Tory. Many Virginians had been educated in England, and, therefore, it was not always easy to tell a Virginian from an Englishman.
Lavender knew she was walking a dangerous path. If the wrong person found out about her deception, it would mean her death. That was why Lavender told no one about her double life. Several times she had almost been captured, and now there was a price on her head. She wondered how much longer she could play her dangerous game before she was caught. She had decided to be very cautious from now on, because she was needed.
A light tap on the bedroom door brought Lavender up sharp. Crossing the room on tiptoes, she opened the door to find Nicodemus waiting in the hall.
"Word's come down, miss, you are needed at the hospital."
Her eyes locked with the little man's. "Did they say how long I would be needed?" she whispered.
"They didn't tell me."
"I'll be right down, Nicodemus. Give me a moment to instruct Phoebe on Aunt Amelia's medication and make sure she will stay with my aunt until I return."
"I'll be waiting for you below. I was told that you should hurry."
All of a sudden Lavender felt bone-weary. What would her assignment be this time? she wondered. How long could she play at this double life before she was caught and forced to stand before the executioner? To the British, what she was doing was called treason, and her being a woman would not stop them from demanding her death!
What was the matter with her today? Lavender chided herself for that moment of weakness. Her father had given his life for freedom—could she do any less?
Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) Page 4
