Once a Rebel

by Mary Jo Putney

Inside, as lamps were lit, Peter said, “Mrs. Newell, I thought you’d want to know that your lawyer, Mr. Key, and the other Americans with him were just released by the British and arrived here in Baltimore this evening.”

  He paused to gratefully accept a tankard of ale from Sarah. “He and Mr. Skinner were able to obtain the release of the elderly doctor whose captivity sent them to the fleet to begin with, and they also have a list of all prisoners held by the British, which is a great relief to the families.”

  “Wonderful!” Callie exclaimed. “For the prisoners, and for me. I have several legal issues that need to be addressed and we were thinking of calling on your uncle, but talking to Mr. Key will be even better. Do you know where he’s staying? It’s too late to call on him this evening, but perhaps first thing in the morning.”

  “They’re at the Indian Queen Hotel, not far from here. That big building on the corner of Baltimore and Hanover streets.”

  Peter’s eyes lit up when he saw Molly approaching with a tray of hot food. “Thank you, Molly! It’s wonderful to return to civilization after days in muddy ditches. Our big news is the lack of news because after a day of playing cat and mouse opposite our lines, the British troops withdrew in the middle of the night without offering battle. We wondered if they might attack elsewhere, but they boarded the naval ships and they’re now well and truly gone. Is there any news here?”

  “You may offer me congratulations,” Gordon said with a ridiculously wide smile. “Callie has agreed to marry me. The wedding will be in three days in St. Paul’s, and of course you’re invited.”

  “How splendid!” Peter exclaimed. “I shall certainly attend. Has anything else interesting happened?”

  That gave Josh the chance to talk about their new home and businesses. Peter knew the location on Charles Street and approved. If he was bothered by the idea of the girl he fancied living above a shop, there was no sign of it.

  Nonetheless, Gordon found himself with a strange paternal desire to ask Peter’s intentions with regard to Molly. Such inquiries should properly come from Josh, but realistically, former slaves might be reluctant to question a young white man from a distinguished and wealthy local family.

  Gordon waited till the flurry of conversation had died down and Peter had finished eating before he invited the young man to join him on the balcony. Looking somewhat wary, Peter accompanied him outside.

  Gordon closed the door behind them, then leaned on the railing, his hands clasped in front of him as he gazed out at the harbor. “I like your city.”

  Mirroring his pose, Peter replied, “So do I. Baltimore’s defense is going to inspire the rest of the country and help our peace negotiators in Ghent, I think. This city is going to grow and prosper and I’m excited to be part of it.”

  “I had the impression that the Carroll family already owns a good bit of the city and the state.”

  Peter chuckled. “The family is a large one. My branch is well off but not the extremely wealthy Carrolls.”

  Glad to hear this, Gordon commented, “So it might be less of an issue if you marry a girl who isn’t as wealthy and isn’t from an old Maryland family.” His voice became edged. “Assuming you’re serious about Molly.”

  “If you’re asking whether my intentions are honorable, sir, the answer is yes. Molly is beautiful, but even better, she’s good and she’s wise.” Peter glanced at Gordon in the darkness. “And she makes me feel good. As a newly betrothed man, I should think you would understand that.”

  Peter had just given a fine summary of how Gordon felt about Callie. “Yes, I do understand. But Callie and I have known each other since the nursery.”

  “While Molly and I have known each other only days,” Peter said quietly. “My feelings might change and so might hers. She’s young and I’m not that much older. I will be unable to consider marriage until my legal training is complete. But for now, I want to court her honorably for as long as we both care for each other. My hope is that someday we’ll be standing at that same altar where you and Mrs. Newell will take your vows. Does that address your concerns?”

  “It does.” Gordon chuckled. “I’ll probably be in England and not well placed to observe your courtship, but Josh is quite capable of thrashing you should that be needed.”

  “It won’t be.”

  The harbor water was dark, but lights were visible on the triumphant Star Fort and around the harbor. Gordon asked, “Do you know how Key and the others returned to the city? The ships sunk to block the entrance to the harbor haven’t been raised yet, so there isn’t normal traffic.”

  “Key and Skinner were in a small sloop that edged by the blockade ships. Nothing larger would have been able to get into the harbor.”

  “I’m glad small boats can make it in. Our transportation back to England should be along soon.” If a small sloop could enter the harbor, a dinghy from the Zephyr wouldn’t have any problem.

  “Back to England?” Peter asked curiously.

  “I’m English in my bones,” Gordon replied. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t celebrate when Baltimore withstood the British attack. If the city had been conquered and burned, it might have effectively destroyed your United States. The world is better off with another Anglo-Saxon nation to balance British arrogance.”

  Peter laughed. “You’re very clear sighted about your homeland.”

  “I’ve seen a great deal of the world. The parts shaped by British notions of law and justice are better off, but too much power breeds arrogance and bullying. Better when power is shared between nations.” He gazed over the harbor, thinking that within a week, he’d be sailing away with his bride by his side. But this city and these people were part of him now. He and Callie would be back.

  Chapter 32

  The Indian Queen Hotel was very grand, more like London than Baltimore, not that Callie had seen much of London before her exile to the Indies. She and Richard had deliberately dressed like people of consequence, so a harried desk clerk gave them the number of Mr. Key’s hotel room without questioning the request.

  As they climbed the stairs, Callie said, “Mr. Key and his wife have a lovely home in Georgetown, just north of Washington. Six children, a law office, right on the Potomac River. They love to entertain, so I’ve visited several times. Even though Frank looks like a rather dreamy poet, he’s an extremely fine lawyer, and well connected to the Maryland establishment.”

  “Just what we need to start working on the probate of Matthew’s will in Jamaica.” Richard smiled at her. “I love watching your topaz earrings dance.”

  She laughed. “I love wearing them. I might never take them off.” She was enjoying this brief betrothal period, but even more she looked forward to actually being married and waking up to Richard’s arms around her and his lazy, intimate smile across the pillows.

  Blushing, she reminded herself that they were here on business. They’d reached Key’s room, so she knocked briskly, calling, “Mr. Key? It’s Callista Audley with some rather important legal business, if this isn’t a horridly bad time.”

  After a moment the door swung open, revealing Frank Key. His tangled dark curls and rumpled shirt made him look as if he hadn’t slept in days. But his smile was welcoming. “Callista, how lovely to see you here and safe! Please, come in. I gather you and your family were able to make it out of Washington unscathed.”

  “Yes, though I believe my house had the sad distinction of being the only residence in Washington to be burned by the British.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that!” he exclaimed. “It was beautiful and well located.”

  “I’m not going back, so I’m interested in selling the lot. Here are the addresses of my helpful neighbor, Mrs. Turner, and my future home in London.” She gave Key the paper with the addresses, then drew Richard forward. “I’d like you to meet Gordon Audley. He and I are to be married on Monday.”

  Key and Richard exchanged an assessing handshake, then Key waved them to a pair of uncomfortable chairs. “Are yo
u a relation of Mrs. Audley’s first husband, sir?”

  “It’s far more complicated than that,” Richard replied. “I’ll let Callie tell the story.”

  “Which I will,” Callie said. “I need help probating a will in Jamaica, but first, how are you? I’m told that you and Mr. Skinner, the prisoner of war agent, were held captive by the Royal Navy, but you emerged triumphant with your freed doctor and a list of all the prisoners of war.”

  “Yes, but it was terrifying to watch the bombardment from miles away and not know how the battle was going! I’d had doubts about this war, but they vanished when I saw Baltimore under attack.” His eyes were intense. “I’ve never felt more an American.”

  Looking shy, he continued, “You know I’m prone to scribbling bits of poetry. During the battle and after, I was filled with powerful emotions such as I’d never known. I jotted down my feelings on the back of an envelope and last night I expanded them into a poem. Would . . . would you like to see it?”

  “By all means yes!” Callie had read some of Key’s other poetry. He was very talented and this subject was powerful.

  He handed her a long sheet of writing paper well filled with lines and some words scratched out. “It still needs work,” he said apologetically. “But I thought it captured the fear and triumph of the event.”

  She began to read while Richard shamelessly looked over her shoulder. The first stanza read:

  “O! say can you see, by the dawn’s early light . . .

  What so proudly we hailed at the twilight’s last gleaming,

  Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,

  O’er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?

  And the rockets’ red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

  Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there;

  O! say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

  O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?”

  By the end of the stanza, she was crying. “Yes,” she whispered. “It was exactly like that.”

  Richard rested his hand on her shoulder. “We watched the rockets and mortars, too. Seeing them was bad enough, but worse was wondering what it meant when the bombardment ended. When dawn came, at first it was impossible to see what flag flew over the fort. It was a stunning moment when the sun came out and showed those ‘broad stripes and bright stars’ of yours.” He tapped a corner of the page. “This is a poem not just for Baltimore, but for a whole nation.”

  Key swallowed hard, his face flushed. “I’m glad my words conveyed that to you. They came in such a powerful rush that they could not be denied.”

  “It should be a song,” Callie said when she finished the fourth and final stanza and handed the poem back to Key, the words soaring through her mind. “The whole city will gladly sing it.”

  “I have a melody in mind,” Key admitted, “but for now, tell me about your legal questions.”

  Pulled from the power of poetry, Callie succinctly related the carefully edited version of why she and her stepfamily had been living under assumed names. Then she gave the official story of Henry Newell’s death and how she had a draft copy of the will and a newly discovered codicil.

  She’d considered claiming she’d found the codicil folded into her Bible, but since Key was a devout member of the Church of England, she thought it wiser to “find” the unexpected addition to Matthew’s will in her cherished copy of Robinson Crusoe. Richard had given her the book on her twelfth birthday and it was the only one of her books that she’d sent to Baltimore with the Adamses. The others were now ash.

  In focused lawyer mode, Key scanned Henry’s death certificate, the will drafted in Matthew’s own hand, and the codicil. He didn’t question the codicil’s authenticity, a tribute to Richard’s skill as a forger. When he finished studying the papers, he said, “This all looks straightforward enough, though it will take time to prove the will.”

  “Can it be done from another country?” she asked. “None of us want to return to Jamaica.”

  Key considered, then gave a nod. “I know a young lawyer in Washington who is Jamaican by birth. He’s a fine attorney and I think he’d be willing to take your documents to Jamaica and shepherd them through the probate process. A chance to visit family and be paid for it.”

  “That would be marvelous!” Callie said. “Since my new husband and I will be leaving for England very soon, I assume there are a large number of legalities that must be completed before I depart to ensure all has been done properly. I don’t want to waste time having queries travel back and forth across the Atlantic.”

  He nodded. “As you say, a great deal of copying and notarizing will need to be done. I can do the notary work since I’ve known you for several years”—he smiled briefly—“albeit under two different names. I work regularly with a lawyer here in Baltimore, George Carroll, and he has people who can help with the copying and filing of papers. Since your stepfamily will be staying in Baltimore, it will be good for them to develop a relationship with him for possible future issues.”

  “We know George Carroll’s nephew, Peter.” Callie smiled. “He and my stepdaughter, Molly, are showing great interest in each other.”

  “Excellent! Peter is a fine young man.” Key neatly squared the stack of papers and slid them back in the portfolio. “Now I must render myself presentable and meet with my brother-in-law about another matter.”

  Callie stood and offered her hand. “Thank you so much for taking the time to help us during such a confused period!”

  With a charming smile, Key shook her hand. “We poets are a nervous lot. It was worth being a lawyer before breakfast in order to hear enthusiasm for my latest work.”

  “Very genuine enthusiasm,” Richard said as he shook Key’s hand. “Good day, sir. I look forward to hearing ‘The Defence of Fort McHenry’ being sung on every street corner!”

  Callie took Richard’s arm and they left the hotel room together. And once again, the words “the land of the free and the home of the brave” rang in her mind.

  Chapter 33

  The next days were spent talking to lawyers and signing papers. Peter Carroll took a day off work after returning from the battlefield, and he spent it with Molly. Callie envied the innocent purity of their romance, uncomplicated by the scars and betrayals of life. She’d never had that, but now she had Richard, and that made up for the rest.

  The next day Peter returned to his desk in his uncle’s office and became one of the assistants copying the original documents. It was a huge job since copies were needed for Callie, the Adams family, Mr. Key, and the courts. Callie’s hand was tired from signing, but she thought the process would go smoothly since the paperwork hadn’t been questioned. Though it would take months to settle the probate, when it was done, Molly and Trey would be comfortably set for life.

  The weather had cooled to a pleasant autumn. The night before their wedding, she and Richard decided to stroll along the waterfront, holding hands, saying little, simply absorbing the sights and sounds of Baltimore. As the sky darkened, they headed back to the warehouse, and saw a familiar dinghy gliding up to the nearby pier.

  “The dinghy from the Zephyr!” Richard exclaimed as he recognized the two men aboard. “Hawkins has excellent timing.”

  “He certainly does!”

  They quickened their pace and met him on the pier as his crewman secured the dinghy. “Hello there!” Hawkins called. “I’m glad to see that you survived the late excitement. Any interest in sailing away home?”

  Richard reached a hand down and helped the other man up onto the pier. “Indeed, yes. But first, care to attend a wedding tomorrow morning?”

  Hawkins’s gaze moved from Richard to Callie. “I’d love to, and I’m glad to see that you two finally figured out what to do with each other!”

  Callie laughed and offered her hand. “Was it that obvious?”

  “Not to you, maybe, but to everyone else.” Hawkins bowed fo
rmally over her hand. “I haven’t a proper gift, but I’ll give you the use of my cabin on the Zephyr for the return voyage.”

  Callie said uncertainly, “It seems wrong of us to drive you from your own bed, Captain Hawkins.”

  “We accept,” Richard said, overriding Callie’s qualms. “And thank you, Hawkins.” He gave Callie a teasing glance. “I really do not want to spend my honeymoon in a bunk bed.”

  “Nor do I,” Callie admitted. She kissed Hawkins’s cheek. “Thank you, Captain.”

  He colored and quickly changed the subject. Callie smiled as she invited him and his crewman up to the loft for dinner. This was going to be one fine honeymoon.

  * * *

  On the whole, Gordon decided, it was easier to face down a group of armed and drunken soldiers than it was to get married. As he waited at the altar of St. Paul’s, he muttered, “I am never going to do this again!”

  Josh, an experienced married man, gave his deep chuckle. “You’ll only have to do it once. Miss Callista isn’t the sort to give up on anyone, so you’re going to be mated for life like a pair of geese.”

  “Interesting way to put it,” Gordon said, but the thought of grooming Callie’s feathers was sufficiently arresting to distract him. He didn’t really think she’d change her mind, but he wanted this to be over.

  The only guests were Peter Carroll and Hawkins, with Trey ready to wield a cane if needed. The church seemed very empty until the organ sounded. It filled the great space with celebration, and the ladies filed in.

  Molly walked down the aisle first, a small bouquet in her hands and a wide smile on her face. She was dark and stunning in a garnet-colored gown and looked much more mature than when Gordon had first met her just weeks before. She had to be thinking about her own future marriage. From the way she and Peter exchanged glances, the subject was obviously on their minds.

  Then Sarah, mature and magnificent in green satin. Lastly, his Callie, glowing in gold and cream, her bright hair like fire, and topazes dancing in her ears. Gordon’s heart considered stopping at the sight of her gliding down the aisle.