“Yes sir.”
Well, John thought, very pleased with himself as he sauntered east on Beaver Street. I have worked for pompous pricks before and this Major Pritchard is not the worst of them. I will make myself extremely useful so as to come to the attention of the Major’s superiors. And I will pad my expense accounts, starting small to begin with and gradually create a regiment of paid ghost informers. Oh yes, he chuckled. I will turn a pretty shilling in this endeavor.
The carriages began arriving in Pluckemin from Philadelphia two days before the festive celebration planned for the first anniversary of the alliance with France. None created as much of a stir as that of General Arnold’s ornate carriage, with Peggy Shippen and the General seated within. Escorted by twenty-four cavalry, twelve in front and twelve behind, in spotless uniforms, mounted on well-groomed horses, the leather saddles and bridles buffed to a deep lustrous brown sheen, the carriage halted on the road to the entrance to Vanderveer House. The way was too narrow and short to accommodate the entire procession. After some initial confusion, the driver proceeded without the troopers to the house where General Arnold alighted with assistance from one of the uniformed soldiers riding postilion. Using his crutch, and with an elegantly attired Peggy Shippen gracefully adorning his arm, he struggled up the few steps to be greeted by General Knox himself at the doorway. 1
Elisabeth observed their arrival from the window of her bedroom and rushed over to offer her assistance to Mrs. Knox. She did not look forward to idle conversation with Peggy, whom she had not seen since marrying Will. Elisabeth had declined her invitations to teas and dinners, claiming the duties of a newly married woman. She had no desire to hear more of their Loyalist sentiments and condescending ridicule of Whig women. Perhaps, with General Arnold’s persistent courtship, Peggy had changed her view, Elisabeth thought.
She left her cloak with one of the servants and, following the noise and commotion, entered the sitting room unannounced. Arnold was seated in the upholstered wide wing-backed chair, usually favored by General Knox, with his bad leg propped up on an ottoman.
“Ah, the courageous lady who resisted an incorrigible Redcoat rascal,” he said, waving to her. “If we but knew that scoundrel’s name, we could someday have him brought to justice.” Will, standing off to the side of General Knox, looked at her puzzled. “Forgive me, but my injured leg has stiffened from the carriage ride and I am, for the present, unable to rise in your presence.”
“Why, Elisabeth,” Peggy said moving quickly from alongside the General’s chair. “How fulfilled you look. Married life certainly becomes you.” Elisabeth blushed deeply, which drew an uncharitable guffaw from Arnold. “It is my intention, my dear, once your father accepts my representations and entreaties, to have you look as fulfilled. However, I daresay your present beauty cannot be improved upon by the mere formality of marital status.” Arnold beamed up at Peggy who giggled and curtsied in mock honor.
“It is good to see you again, Sir,” Elisabeth said. “Please excuse me. I must see if Mrs. Knox requires any assistance.”
“Elisabeth,” Knox said. “If you would be so kind as to stay with Little Lucy and the babe upstairs, I know Mrs. Knox would be most eager to renew her acquaintance with the General who did us the honor of escorting her from Connecticut to Valley Forge.”
Elisabeth was playing with Lucy while Julia slept in her cradle when there was a gentle knock and Will appeared. She saw the troubled look on his face and knew the question he would ask. Lucy looked up and ran to Will, grabbing him around his knees, and hugged him. “Are you” she said with a serious expression, “and Lisbet going to the dance? Momma said she will dance with Genr’l Washington.”
“Of course we are,” Will replied. “And I will dance only with Elisabeth.”
“And Momma will dance with Poppa,” she answered with the certainty of a three and a half year old who knows the proper order of the world. “Can I show you my dolls.”
“Arrange them for me,” Will said. “I will be over to see them.”
With Lucy distracted in the corner, Elisabeth said softly, “I do not keep secrets from you, my love, but from others. I could not tell Peggy nor General Arnold, even though he asked directly, that I had been assaulted by your brother.” She was seated on a low stool, gently rocking the baby’s cradle with one hand. How beautiful she is, Will thought, gazing at her blue eyes, staring back at him with utmost honesty.
“I related a British officer had attempted to loot the Lewis home and I had fought him off.” She shrugged. “They accepted that version and your brother never entered into it.”
Lucy looked up from her cloth dolls. “Will,” she called. “You promised to see my dolls.” He kissed Elisabeth on her forehead and squatted down next to the little girl.
“If your brother comes to visit you and Lisbet, he may play with my dolls, too.” Will laughed heartily and hugged her, smiling over her head at Elisabeth, who mouthed the words, “Little ones have big ears.”
Peggy Shippen insisted that Elisabeth ride in the carriage to Middlebrook where she would be staying at the Wallace House. Propriety demanded that she not sleep under the same roof as her ardent suitor, General Arnold.
“This carriage affords us absolute privacy,” she assured Elisabeth, who raised an eyebrow. “Oh Elisabeth. How could you even think that of the General. You know he is such an honorable gentleman. He would never attempt to take advantage of my person on the ride from Philadelphia.”
Not take advantage, Elisabeth thought, but if offered encouragement, Arnold was amorous enough to engage in any games Peggy would like to play. And you are enough of a flirt, she thought, to arouse and hasten him to prevail upon your father.
“It is a snug and private place, however. That is why I requested you ride with me. I have no one else I may be frank and open with about the dear General and the state of our courtship.”
Elisabeth nodded. “I am flattered by your trust in me.”
“Well. You are a newly married woman and now know the passions that consume those in love.” She giggled and waited for Elisabeth to recount her amorous experiences. When she remained silent, Peggy began to cry. The suddenness of her tears surprised Elisabeth, who was unsure whether they were sincere or a ploy to gain her sympathy.
“Father insists that Benedict, that is General Arnold, acquire substantial wealth to be able to support me in a proper fashion.” She dabbed at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I want that, I confess, but not at the expense of this prolonged delay of our marriage. He has proposed in secret and I have accepted. I have never met a man with a more commanding presence, one with a kind and gentle side to complement his steely hardness of purpose. We wait only for father’s permission.”
“I am certain you will be able to persuade your father, if General Arnold cannot,” Elisabeth said sweetly. Before the lavish Mischienza, there had been rumors that Judge Shippen had prohibited his daughters from participating. He said the nature of the party and the costumes designed for his daughters to wear were scandalous and undermined the dignity of the Shippen name. Servants gossiped that Peggy refused food for three days, screamed at her father constantly, threw tantrums that could be heard by passersbys on Fourth Street, and ultimately Judge Shippen had given his permission.
“Oh, father will come around. You are right,” Peggy said dismissively, stuffing her handkerchief in her sleeve. Elisabeth marveled at how rapidly her friend had gone from tears of woe to sterness of purpose. “Our difficulty now is these horrid accusations by the evil Mr. Reed. He is no longer the prosecutor you know. He has risen, as filth floats to the top of an offal pit, to become President of the Supreme Executive Council.” 2
Elisabeth wondered whether Peggy had ever been near an offal pit. It was well expressed but the salty reference probably originated with her ardent General.
“That unpleasant man most certainly has paid for the most scandalous accusations to be published in the Pennsylvania Gazette and broadsheets agains
t our heroic General. Why Benedict has even been accused of selling confiscated Tory goods for his own benefit,” she sniffed as if to state the allegation was to prove its preposterousness. “And this business of his involvement with the Charming Nancy,” she went on, waving her hand as if it was too much of a burden to even tell Elisabeth. 3
“What are we to do? Under his military administration, Benedict has brought order to the city, civil society has flourished, and he protects the rights and liberties of all, including, yes, those accused by these nasty radicals as having been staunch Tories. And his reward is constant harassment from them, threats of legal action and anonymous attacks on his reputation.” Peggy’s voice rose in anger. “Reed and his verbal assassins, who have never risked their lives in battle in which my dear General has suffered a most grievous wound, are not fit to be in the same room with him. After all his sacrifices, Benedict is entitled to make a profit as much as those merchants who now claim to be steadfast patriots but in reality ship their goods to New York City to obtain a better price.”
“You defend him with such vigor,” Elisabeth said quietly. “’Tis a sign of your deep devotion and love. Together, I am sure you will persevere against any adversary.”
Peggy reached over and patted Elisabeth’s hand. “I was so certain I could unburden myself to you. Yes, Benedict and I will prevail. His intelligence, sense of honor and duty, the wealth he is deservedly accumulating, despite the false accusations, will see us through.”
She leaned forward conspiratorially. “When we return to Philadelphia, Benedict will formally ask father for my hand. He has told me he has purchased a fine estate along the Schuylkill. 4 That will satisfy father’s condition that Benedict bestow upon me a substantial settlement prior to our marriage.” She laughed, a high-pitched sound, betraying her nervousness.
“You, my dear Elisabeth, and your handsome husband will of course be invited. I anticipate it to be an April wedding. When the apple trees and dogwoods are in bloom and the air is filled with the fragrant scent of their blossoms.”
If the Army is still in camp, Elisabeth thought. She and Will had married as soon as possible because the future course of the war could not be predicted. How conceited of Peggy not to permit the thought of the war disrupting her plans for party and pleasure.
Two days later the grand ball at Pluckemin, to celebrate the one year anniversary of the alliance with the French, was held in the Academy. It began with the discharge of thirteen cannon, which occupied Will as one of the officers responsible for returning the guns to the artillery park.
When he arrived at the Academy, the festive hall was crowded with far fewer women than men. Accordingly, following an elaborate dinner, with numerous toasts to liberty, independence and the certainty of the war’s outcome, Elisabeth and Mercy, abiding by the customs of a formal ball, danced with officers other than their husbands. The only exception was General Washington. After the first required dance with Mrs. Knox as the hostess, who although overweight was surprisingly light and graceful on her feet, their Commander monopolized Catherine Greene for the entire evening. 5 Peggy, while the center of attention with all eyes upon her during a minuet, would occasionally retreat from the floor to adoringly seat herself on the arm of General Arnold’s chair. And then, she would rejoin the merriment, escorted by some fortunate officer who had the courage to ask for her as a partner and brave the General’s initial glare of disapproval.
Will stood before one of the thirteen painted arches, this one next to the center arch, depicting Louis the XVI as America’s friend and ally. He preferred the ones of battles, the confrontation at Lexington, and the victory at Saratoga. The artist had painted a reasonable likeness of General Arnold, astride a white horse, urging the troops onward. He wondered if the General or Peggy had seen it. 6
Turning to the dance floor, he admired Elisabeth’s gracefulness as she effortlessly floated across the highly polished wood. Her partner, a Captain on General Washington’s staff, his back straight and his chin held high, looked more like he was posing for a portrait than a gentleman enjoying himself. He did seem to think he presented a noble countenance for those who were watching, but did not realize that their eyes were not on him but on Elisabeth. Will thought, to hell with propriety. He would assert himself and partner with Elisabeth for the next minuet. That would be only his second dance with her this evening. No, he thought, only the second time they have danced together as husband and wife.
He intercepted her as she came off the dance floor, her face flushed with excitement and escorted her to the punch table. “It would be a great pleasure, Mrs. Stoner, if you would favor me with the next minuet. I will do my best not to step on your toes, as I did before.”
She laughed. “I feared you would never ask. I would much rather enjoy your stumbling around than the far smoother steps of another officer of higher rank.”
He enjoyed her teasing him. “I take that as a compliment. Shall we?” he asked, extending his arm as the musicians began to play.
She beamed at Will as they honored each other, he bending slightly at the waist in a bow, she holding her skirt between her thumb and four fingers. They were at the end of two lines, because of Will’s rank, but it mattered not. Elisabeth lost herself in the simple pleasure of partnering with her husband, the very thought of their dancing together giving her a rush of enjoyment.
When the fireworks display was announced, the crowd moved outside to view the spectacle in the gathering darkness. Will affectionately wrapped his arms around Elisabeth to warm her. She nestled within them and swayed slightly, humming a refrain from a minuet. Her mind went to the last time she had seen fireworks, at the Mischienza when Captain Montresor had presented her with a pearl necklace and she had felt his breath on the nape of her neck as he closed the clasp. Thinking back on that evening, she convinced herself she had thought it was Will with her at that moment. But if that were so, why had she not worn the necklace this evening. It remained in the bottom of her trunk, wrapped in a cloth and buried under her petticoats and blouses. She had not thought of Montresor since he left Philadelphia. Why had he intruded on her enjoyment this evening? Nothing had passed between them. She had merely done her duty as required and obtained information from him. While he may have preferred to make her his mistress, she had maintained the boundary.
She squeezed Will’s forearms more tightly around her and decided she would have to tell him more about that celebration, and even the necklace. Will would understand. There could be no secrets between them.
Chapter 14 - Freedom for All
He had been fortunate so far in the nine days since he deserted. Using the familiar constellations in the sky that were second nature to him as a fisherman, Adam set his course northeast from Middlebrook. He moved only at night, stopping when the early dawn provided just enough light for him to find a secure hiding place in thick underbrush or beneath rocky outcroppings. He was surprised at how many men were on the country roads at night, some legitimately and others up to no good. He avoided contact with all of them, the farmers, doctors, ministers and waggoners. He was especially wary of armed groups. The danger came from militias patrolling the roads as well as others out for plundering and looting of Loyalist or Rebel homes, or simply armed thieves caring not for the cause supported by their victims, as long as they had something worth stealing.
Because of his caution progress had been slow, but he was reasonably certain he had eluded any patrols sent out to capture him. He was as yet undecided whether to make for the coast or continue inland by foot. He hoped, if he came to a navigable river, he could find work on some shallow draft transport and work his way further north.
He awoke in the late afternoon, opened his eyes and remained motionless, listening for any sounds. He heard shouts from far off and warily raised himself from the bed of leaves he had fashioned to cushion him from the cold, rocky ground.
From the vantage point of the craggy overlook, he saw a militia in their ill-disciplined manner,
proceeding down a dusty road which curved around his hill and disappeared into the pinewoods where he had slept the night before. By their lack of uniforms and ragged lines, he guessed they were local Rebels rather than Loyalists. Ahead of him, in the distance, a grey haze of smoke rose into a cloudy sky and hovered over a tree-lined field. Beyond that was a cluster of shacks and, further, a stout stone farmhouse. If they had burned and looted the farm, he could safely assume the inhabitants were Tories. If they had left it untouched, it probably meant Rebel sympathizers lived there. Either way, he ran the risk of being captured and given over to one side or the other - as a Rebel to the Loyalist militias roaming the area, or to the county’s Rebels who would return him as a deserter to the Army.
Although he knew it was more dangerous, Adam decided to move, while there was still light, toward the hazy smoke and the open fields. Crouching low he descended the rocky escarpment, pausing behind large boulders and scouring the terrain ahead before proceeding further. He threaded his way through the pine and maple trees until he was close enough to hear voices. At the edge of the woods seven blacks clustered around a large tree stump, which they were attempting to dislodge with pry bars. A team of two oxen stood docilely by, worn leather straps dangling from their haunches and wound around the massive roots of the remains of the felled tree. Smoke rose from the burning stumps that had already been pulled out.
Adam guessed they were slaves clearing new ground for early spring planting. If they were all owned by the farmer, this must be a wealthy man, and thus more likely to be a Tory than a Rebel sympathizer. Yet the militia had left the farm untouched. If he were still in Monmouth County, camp gossip was the people of the countryside supported the Rebel cause, the proof being that they willingly sold their cattle, pigs, food, cider and even ale to the Quartermaster’s agents. Then again, according to that same camp gossip, there were roving bands of Loyalist militias about, eager to punish Patriot farmers for their support. And there were farmers who trimmed their sails to accommodate whoever was in their neighborhood, Rebel or Loyalist, and when they could, sold their goods in the so-called “London Trade” to New York City, receiving gold and silver in return. Hard to know the loyalties of this farm from a distance and the slaves may be able to help him.
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