Embrace of the Enemy (Winds of Betrayal)

by Jerri Hines

  Taking a large white shirt, she pulled it over her body. The whole of the shirt swallowed her. She tried desperately to hold up the pants which continually fell down to her feet no matter how she tried to tie it off. Then suddenly she heard the handle of the door rattle.

  Marcus walked in nonchalantly with a small tray of food. He set it upon his night stand and smiled at the scene in front of him. Shutting the door with the back of his foot, he raised his eyebrows in obvious amusement. Grimacing, Hannah kicked the pants hanging on her feet at him.

  “Where are my clothes?” she demanded as she reached back for the covers on the floor.

  He chuckled. His disheveled hair and open shirt hung loose about his pants suggested he wasn’t planning on leaving this morning. “You would find little use in a ripped gown. You will have to forgive my impatience in removing it from your person. Give me until the morrow and I will have you appropriate attire. Should I ask if you are planning on going somewhere?”

  “Don’t play with me, Marcus. I’m not in the mood,” she said. Her chest heaved heavily; her temper flared. “I need to leave. I have to.”

  He leaned against the door and watched her which only infuriated her all the more. She reached down and slung the shirts out of the drawers. Ranting and raving, her temper exploded, “What, pray tell, will I wear? I have nothing…nothing!”

  She stopped and stared at him. He looked as though his only concern was that she didn’t have anything hard to throw at him. He shrugged.

  “Are you done?” he asked. “I brought you some breakfast.”

  She gave him a harsh look and turned away, her anger giving way to frustration. He sauntered up behind her. Turning her to him, he gazed into her eyes and caressed her cheek.

  “Let’s go over this one more time,” he said softly. “You’re not going back. General Howe has agreed this to be a viable option. Listen to me, Hannah, whether we have solid evidence, we can’t take a chance. Can we? I don’t believe hanging a woman would be an option one would choose, but Hannah, they wouldn’t hesitate to throw you in the Jersey.”

  The mention of the dreaded prisoner ship sent a shiver through Hannah. She tried to break free of his hold. “Then throw me in.”

  He laughed. “And here I thought I was a better option than the alternative.” His manner altered to a serious tone. “Hannah, there are worse punishments than death. I don’t want you to have to ever endure such. Listen to me, my love, I have been patient. I understand you feel a passion for your cause, misguided as I feel it is. I’m not asking you to quench those feelings. What I’m telling you is that you need to stop acting upon them.”

  She reached up placing her hand over his. “Then send me back home. I promise you…”

  He shook his head. “Hannah, Gannon wants you arrested or worse. Your grandfather has become aware of the situation. We told him we were handling the issue and didn’t give him another option. If you appear back in Williamsburg, I don’t think you would survive long. Your grandfather is a revengeful man. You realize that, don't you?”

  “I can’t accept this, Marcus. Please,” she begged. “I can’t.”

  “Then take it for what it is. You have no choice. Believe me, Hannah. You won’t be in a position to do anything now. Don’t mistake my feelings for my duty.”

  She looked away. He had none of that. He reached over and with his hand lifted her chin up to look into her eyes. “I told you to trust me. Didn't I tell you I had everything planned out? Just think about today. Do you know what I have planned?”

  Dejected, she shook her head. “Something about England, but Marcus, I’m not….”

  He smiled broadly. “Ah, what did I say? Think about today. I thought that I would take you out of the city at the end of the week to a town along the Sound, Setauket. I have some work I can accomplish from there. It’s a nice country side. I thought we might ride.”

  Her spirits rose. “Out of New York? You promise?”

  He nodded. Impulsively, she reached up and flung her arms around him. She kissed him. He swept her back toward the bed…at least for the moment, making her forget all around her.

  * * * *

  “No! God damn it! No!” Marcus defiantly refused. “This has been dealt with. Alexander Clay can go to hell and stay there. Who is he to dictate to us?”

  General William Howe, an affable, tall, standing over six-feet, man, leaned against the window sill. The Commander-in-Chief of the British forces grimaced as he watched Colonel Marcus Durham. From his demeanor, Marcus could see General Howe sympathized with the situation, but stood firm behind his decision.

  “Marcus, I have wasted enough time upon the subject. I don't see the relevance in reality,” General Howe said. “Pray, what would you have me do?”

  Marcus stared at his commander. If the truth be known, Marcus deciphered the General had a certain empathy toward the colonies, which may have well played into decisions that had cost the British dearly. At times Marcus wondered if the blunder from the New York campaign would, in the end, cost them. The one time daring and aggressive commander had taken a cautious turn when in fact Marcus thought he should seek the direct confrontation instead of avoiding such. As he felt he was doing with his situation.

  “We're treading water on this one, sir. I feel I have laid out it plainly before I made the move to withdraw her from the situation,” Marcus sighed. “On one hand, Clay is an influential Loyalist, but we both know what a cruel and vindictive man he is. And now you want me to hand her back over to him after we have acknowledged to him we have seen her as a threat, even a small one. You know as well as I what fate he would like to deal to her.”

  “I believe you are over exaggerating the situation, Marcus,” General Howe said. “We're talking of his own granddaughter. I've met the girl, pleasant, beautiful thing as you well know. I can't imagine he would hold it against the girl that you are now looking after her welfare, especially in your position. I've thought about the situation. I find it improbable she could be capable of what Gannon's yelling she has done. For the life of me, I can't understand his position on the subject.”

  “First, let me remind you. Clay readily gave up his son-in-law without a blink of an eye and with him his own grandson. I offered to let the young man go and Richard insisted upon his capture as well. Clay orchestrated a raid upon the uncle's plantation which in essence wiped out most of the family,” Marcus eyed Howe carefully. “Which I might add, the girl was there and by some miracle, escaped harm, but did witness the aftermath.”

  Howe's eyes wrinkled up as he thought for a moment. “The situation does give me pause. I won't take it lightly if he uses the opportunity to inflict his revenge upon the girl. You're right in that aspect.”

  “And Gannon,” Marcus quickly added. “What right does he have to accuse her? Shouldn't he take responsibility for his own actions? When you live a double life, you take the chance of being discovered.”

  “I don't disagree with you. I believe we have our hands full with him,” Howe nodded. “I wish he would leave for England as was suggested.”

  “Then we can keep to our original plan?”

  Howe scratched his forehead. He shook his head. “I can agree with you to a certain point, but I feel you're becoming overly protective. Neither Clay nor Gannon could have come up with the Montgomery issue that you need to go address immediately,” he stated flatly. “I can't in good conscience ignore a dying woman's request to see her granddaughter. I see only one option. We'll compromise.”

  * * * *

  Hannah watched from her grandmother's window. She couldn't see clearly, but she could make out his form riding away, disappearing from view. She glanced back over her shoulder. Her grandmother lay sleeping. Hannah had to check to make sure her grandmother was breathing, for at times it seemed she to stop. No one questioned that her grandmother wasn't long for this world, but in the same breath, Hannah wondered if she would be next.

  She no longer lived under illusions. Her innocence lost w
ithin the world she had chosen to belong. She stared back out the window. The bulbs she had planted for her grandmother last fall had begun to spring up from the once frozen ground. She doubted her grandmother would ever be aware of the flowers. She gazed out farther. Marcus was nowhere in sight. He had left her. He hadn't wanted to; he had been furious; but he had left her.

  Her hands clenched tightly the curtain. She needed strength to get through the next few days, strength to do what she must. She had to leave, no matter if she had support from Tepper or not. She hadn't another choice. If she stayed, she wouldn't be alive when Marcus returned. She bit her bottom lip. She had to come up with a plan.

  She knew she had three British guards watching her; one was Thomas Elliot, Marcus's second in command. Marcus had sworn no harm would befall her. Oh, Marcus, if you ever knew!

  Hannah ignored her conscience and pushed aside the virtues and principles Mother Agnes tried so desperately to instill in her. She had forsaken them. All qualms squelched upon his touch. God forgive her. Now, though, Marcus had departed, leaving her to face the consequences of her deceit.

  Upon his return from British headquarters, his disposition drastically changed. She had stood within the house, the bedroom that had well been her prison since he brought her here well over a month hence. He had kept her away from anyone and all. She saw within him the need to withdraw from the city, but his duty had constantly delayed their intended departure. She had listened to his words, but ringing within her the comprehension no matter how they might want to run from the outside world, reality had a way of creeping back in.

  “Don't look at me in that manner, Hannah,” he had said. His ill-temper bestowed upon her. “I can do nothing, but make sure you're protected.”

  “I have said nothing, Marcus. I have no control,” she responded simply.

  He stared at her as if angry at her. Then he grabbed her tightly by her shoulders. “Don't make light of this,” he squeezed tighter. “This isn't what I had planned, but we'll make do. Do you understand? I'll make sure that you're safe. You have to promise me you won't do anything that I can't protect you from. Do you understand what I'm saying? Promise me, Hannah. Look into my eyes and promise me.”

  She stood silent for a moment, but what harm could she do? She was a prisoner. She would have three visible guards surrounding her. She wasn't allowed to talk with anyone without them present or at the least, Tom

  “Promise me, Hannah,” Marcus insisted once more.

  She nodded and broke her eyed contact with him.

  His grip tightened once more. “Say it, Hannah.”

  She jerked back. “I give you my word.”

  Upon her utterance, he had taken her…roughly. His frustrations expressed within his touch, but she matched him with her own, as if they tried to fight back the reality of the world around them.

  A creak disturbed her thoughts. Her heart raced as her bedroom’s adjoining door slowly opened a narrow space. A head emerged, a head full of blond curls, Hannah relaxed when she saw it was Camilla. Immediately, Camilla hugged her cousin. With everything within her, Hannah realized Camilla fought back the urge to cry, understanding that the sound would send in Tom who sat outside the door.

  Hand and hand, she led Hannah back within her old room, keeping the door open to keep watch. Easing down upon her bed, tears fell from Camilla’s eyes.

  Whispering, her voice revealed sorrow. “Oh, Hannah. You don’t know what has happened. Everything has changed. I have never been so unhappy.”

  “Tell me quickly,” Hannah said, nervously glancing back at the open door.

  “Grandfather. Oh, Hannah. I’ve never seen such. How could you do that? Leave us so. Tell me Hannah that it’s not true. You haven’t taken up residence with Colonel Durham. How could you do such to Lieutenant Fletcher?” she searched Hannah’s eyes.

  “There are some things in life, Camilla, that can’t be explained,” Hannah turned from Camilla and choked back her own tears. “Believe me, it hadn't been my intention.”

  “Do you know what the lieutenant has done? My Allen is so upset. Simon has gone on a recruiting trip to White Plains with Mabie and Captain Wolfe to Sterling’s house. Allen has worried so since he departed because he believes he’s ill prepared for the mission,” Camilla sniffled. “They have been together since childhood. I had us pictured living close to each other with our families. Now Allen is afraid for Simon’s life. Nothing will happen to him, will it Hannah?”

  Hannah breathed in deeply and shook her head. “Pray Simon isn’t caught without his uniform for Allen is correct in his assumption. Simon has put himself in harm’s way.”

  “Come home, Hannah,” Camilla begged. “Please I need you so. Life has become unbearable. I can’t survive without you or Susanna.”

  Hannah froze. “Where is Susanna?”

  “Grandfather made her marry that old man, Oswyn Millbury. It was an awful scene, Hannah. Grandfather ranted about your behavior and what you had done to our family, even though Allen said your arrangement would be beneficial and seemed surprised by Grandfather’s reaction,” she rambled on. “But Susanna stood up and told Grandfather that you were the lucky one to have found an escape out of this hell hole. I thought I would die.”

  “Where is she now?” Hannah asked unable to contain her concern. “Where Camilla? Is Susanna okay?”

  She nodded her head. “I have been over several times. She has told me she is fine, but Susanna never lets me know otherwise. Oswyn, for that is what he has me call him now, has been generous. He seems happy with the arrangement. The house isn’t far away, over two streets.”

  “Listen carefully to me, Camilla. I don’t have the freedom to visit Susanna,” Hannah gripped tight to her cousin’s hands.

  “And why is that, Hannah? If it’s as Allen has said that you should be set for life with your arrangement,” Camilla searched her cousin’s eyes.

  “It’s complicated, Camilla. I don’t know how much time we have before we’re discovered. I need to see Susanna. Tell her what has happened. Before Grandmother dies, because after I may never see anyone again.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Hannah. You’re scaring me.”

  “Please. Go now,” Hannah said as she stood. “I have to get back with Grandmother.” Hannah watched her cousin leave through their adjoining doors on the other side of her room before making her way back into her grandmother’s room.

  She closed the door as quietly as she could, but a sound behind her startled her. Tom stood staring at her, his thumb placed by his mouth as if thinking. She ignored him and turned toward her grandmother.

  “Don’t do that again,” Tom stated firmly. He stood a tad shorter than Marcus and in Hannah’s estimation a tad younger, but it was hard to tell with the scars on his face. He had seen battles of that she was certain and he seemed prepared for one with her.

  “What do expect of me?” she flung at him. “I have no desire to be here after Marcus removed me. I know what I’ve walked back into. Do you? If I talk with my dear cousin what harm can come from it? You can’t believe Camilla is a dreaded spy.”

  He stared at her without flinching. “I don’t care what or who she is. You have rules to follow and it’s my orders to make sure you follow them. Granted, I heard most of your conversation with your cousin, but talk to her again, I have to be there. Do you understand?”

  “Did you learn any dark secrets as you listened?” she shot back at him. “I think not.”

  “It’s not the point, Miss Corbett,” he responded. “I have no desire to be babysitting you as it is, but I comprehend the danger we all could be within this house. To keep you safe you have to follow the rules. Do you comprehend what he has done for you?”

  Her resentment sprang forth. “What he has done for me? I have asked for nothing. I know well you British believe us Americans social inferiors and ill bred. A superior attitude. I have listened well to it since you have entered the city. You are telling me to be appreciative?”

>   “I’m not telling you anything nor do I care, Miss Corbett. I want you to understand I won’t let you bring him down if that’s your intention.”

  She looked away at her grandmother. “I have no wish to talk with you thus. You have no idea what I feel about Marcus. No idea.”

  “As long as we understand each other,” he concluded and began to walk toward the door to sit outside once more.

  Hannah turned to him before he left. “Tom, this I do know, as did Marcus. I have seen what the fury of my grandfather and uncle can cause. I held my mother in a way no one should ever have to. I know well what my grandfather is capable of. And God help us when my grandmother dies, for he will enact his revenge.”

  Hannah waited in the darkness. Miss Trant had effortlessly exchanged places with her this night. Upon the exchange of the guards, Tom had been relieved of his duty. She saw her window of escape. The plan came to be as soon as Camilla had relayed her message to Susanna. Quickly from the comfort of her new surroundings had arranged the exchange, Susanna made the necessary arrangements.

  “I don’t mind, Miss Corbett. N’ver don’t,” Miss Trant said while she exchanged her clothing with Hannah. “I can’t understand why they won’t let you see her.”

  Hannah smiled. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Miss Trant. I only hope one day I can repay you.”

  Hannah opened the door slightly. A soldier sat where Tom had, but she didn’t recognize him. She nodded back to Miss Trant, who drew the covers around her. “Have a good night, Miss,” Hannah spoke in her best imitation of Miss Trant. She tucked her hair under the cap and pulled it down so none could be seen.

  “Thank you,” Miss Trant replied from the bed for the guard to hear clearly. He stood to close the door behind Hannah. He glanced in, seeing Miss Trant tucked snug within the bed, shut it tightly.

  Hannah didn’t look back, but hastily ran down the back stairs as the servants were accustomed in doing. She sat the tray down upon the table in the kitchen thankful no one was about. Her hand trembled as she laid it upon the door handle and turned it. The next moment she was upon the street.