He shifted away. No matter what she said or how she said it, there was no way he would ever be able to believe her. “Leave me alone.”
Lydia withdrew, but only slightly. “Oh, Daniel. I cannot do that.”
“Because it would disappoint the major if you failed again?”
“Because I love you.”
Daniel looked into her lake-blue eyes. Unfortunately, he couldn’t believe them either, and her games left him wanting air almost as much as the major’s. Daniel gasped a breath. “Why would they let you in here then, if you weren’t helping them again?”
She stood, bent over, and began digging through layers of petticoat until she bared her boot. “I arranged for a certain lieutenant to move his family into a fine country cottage in England.” She slid a small dagger from the top of her boot and passed it to him. “I am here to help you, Daniel Reid, whether you believe me or not. Hide this and wait. I only have a moment, but we shall come soon.”
“We?”
She straightened and smoothed her skirts. “A certain fox and his men.” Lydia gave a tap on the door, and a moment later she was gone, as though an apparition of his exhausted mind.
He ripped a strip from the blanket and wrapped the dagger’s blade. Then he slid it inside his boot. He startled as the door opened once more.
Another familiar face appeared, but one not as becoming. “Sit tight, Sergeant Reid,” Lieutenant Mathews smirked. “It shan’t be long before you wear out your usefulness.” He dropped a rolled blanket near Daniel’s foot. “Stay warm.”
32
Lydia went directly to the library. She knelt by the large chest and opened the lid. With the haste in which she had thrown the last items into the chest, it took several minutes to find her father’s quill pen and two novels. Gulliver's Travels and Robinson Crusoe. His favorites.
With the books tucked under her arm and pen in hand, she hurried to Charles’s office for stationery and ink. Pulling a chair up to the desk, she set the books aside, drew a paper in front of her and dipped the sharp, angled tip of the quill. Her heart ached as she scratched the pen across the smooth, pale surface. Only the sound of someone approaching quickened her hand.
“Miss Reynolds,” Major Layton boomed as he shoved the door wide and stepped into the room. “You have been missed these past two days. Pray tell, where have you been?”
“To secure new accommodations, sir.” She flipped the paper over. “I am a young, unmarried woman. Perhaps it was acceptable to remain under this roof while my brother-in-law, or his wife were present, but they have gone. With Colonel Campbell and yourself in residence, it is impossible for me to stay here without tarnishing my reputation. I have only returned for a few of my belongings and then I shall leave.”
“To go where, exactly?”
She lifted her books. “Mr. Hilliard has been kind enough to give me his daughter’s quarters. He’s most generous and I hope to repay him by offering some comfort. Mrs. Selby’s sudden departure has been quite distressing to him.”
“I imagine it has.” The major did not look at all sympathetic. Only suspicious.
Eli stepped into the room behind him. “You sent for me, Miss Lydia?”
She hadn’t yet, but his timing could not have been more inspired. “Yes, I would like you to help me with my things. I will be moving to the Hilliards.” Lydia squared a look at the major and gave an apologetic smile. “You will excuse us?”
He frowned but offered a stiff bow. “Of course.”
Major Layton’s departure echoed toward the front door, and Lydia relaxed into the chair. “Thank you, Eli.”
He nodded, but the worry lines around his eyes deepened. “Where have you been, Miss Lydia? Are you all right?”
“I am. But I do need your help.” She turned the paper and pushed it across the desk.
“What is it?”
Tears welled before she managed to speak. “Your freedom, Eli.”
The pendulum on the clock behind him swung in steady rhythm, a hushed tock the only sound in the large house.
“Mr. Hilliard has agreed to witness the document and make certain everything is in order.” Lydia wiped at her cheek. “But the important thing is you’ll be free.”
The old man’s chin wrinkled as his lips pressed tight. “Miss Lydia, with your Mama’s help, Jesus already set me free. At least as it matters most.”
The document remained on the desk. “I do not understand. I thought you would want this.”
“I did too. When I was younger. There was a time I wanted nothing more.” He brushed his long, thin fingers over the paper, his frown deepening. “But I’m an old man now. Where am I to go? What will I do? I was raised in your grandparents’ house there in England. All I had was my Mama, and I’m sure she’s passed years since. So, what is left me but what I know?”
Nothing. Because her family had taken everything else from him. “I am so sorry.”
Eli picked up the sheet. “Though, maybe it will feel good, just to know that I am my own man.” He passed it to her. “Go on ahead and have Mr. Hilliard make it legal, like you said. It might be nice to be owned only by the Lord Himself.”
Lydia nodded. “Let me do that for you.” Though I owe you so much more. She folded the document into the cover of Robinson Crusoe and gathered her things off the desk.
“Whatever became of your New Englander?” Eli asked. When her head snapped up, he chuckled. “Mr. Reid had something to do with this, didn’t he? You’ve been pining for him for weeks now. Ever since I met you down on the shore and you turned your heart to Jesus.”
“Longer.” Lydia moved around the desk and toward the door. “I just feared to admit as much to myself.”
“And now?”
She looked back at the man who had been her family’s property spanning three generations. As though an heirloom. “Every man deserves his freedom. I will stop at nothing to give Mr. Reid his.” Even though he’d made it very clear neither forgiveness, nor trust would ever be hers.
~*~
Daniel clamped his jaw as the physician cut through the boot and peeled the thick leather away from his swollen foot. What man went through three pairs of boots in barely as many months? Daniel would have laughed if his ankle didn’t hurt so much.
The cold water had eased the initial swelling, but only enough as to not fully constrict circulation. Countless times, he’d considered using the dagger Lydia had brought him to cut the boot, but was not prepared to explain to the guards how he’d come by a blade. And he definitely hadn’t wanted to give up his only weapon.
Thankfully, a Mr. Hilliard was brought aboard the ship last night.
Lieutenant Mathews had been rather silent as to the reason for the man’s visit, but Hilliard had asked plenty of questions regarding Daniel’s health and care. He’d been the one to encourage the Lieutenant to see after the injured ankle. And the lieutenant heeded—though waited until nightfall.
Was this Lydia’s doing?
If so, why? Despite what she’d told him, or what he wanted to believe, he wouldn’t be deceived again. First Rachel, then Lydia. Maybe he would be better off rotting on this ship. Daniel flinched, his ankle protesting the physician’s prodding’s.
“Bone seems to be intact as far as I can tell.” The weed of a man fished bandages out of his satchel. “But there may be a crack I cannot detect through the swelling. I have some ointment that might help.”
Lieutenant Mathews didn’t bat an eye. His arms remained folded as he leaned against the door. “Just leave him what he needs,” Mathews growled. “He can wrap it himself. I need to get you back to shore. And remember what I said. No one is to know you were here.”
“I remember.” The older man set the strips of cloths and a tiny jar in Daniel’s hands. “Firm, but not too tight.”
Daniel glanced down at his swollen ankle and the black-fringed yellow bruises. Broken or not, he’d definitely done damage. “Thank you, sir.”
A blast of misty air and the two
men were gone.
Daniel dribbled the smelly ointment into his palm and rubbed it over his foot and halfway to the knee. The relief of having the boot removed countered the sharper pain stabbing through his ankle. Hopefully that would pass once he’d wrapped it. Daniel settled back and began the task, eyeing the single boot that remained him. He thought of the dagger now tucked away in the back of his waistline. As much as he wanted off this vessel, he wouldn’t make it very far on his own.
~*~
“What is taking so long? It’s been a full week. Seven days!” Lydia slapped her hands against the table in frustration, though what she really felt was probably more akin to panic. “How much longer before the British find their new captain and crew for the Zephyr?”
Once that ship reached open water, the chances of a successful rescue became abysmal.
Charles waved her down. She wasn’t sure why he remained while Ester and Maggie were now safely beyond the reach of the British. “We cannot simply walk into Georgetown and demand Daniel Reid be released,” he said. “And what of those men in the hold? We must give General Marion time to plan.”
“But a whole week?” If each day was torturous for her, how did Daniel fare?
“I have no doubt Lieutenant Mathews is keeping his end of the bargain knowing Mr. Hilliard will not give him the signed deed until the end of two weeks. Daniel will be cared for well enough.”
If only she had as much confidence. Or enough faith.
God, keep Daniel, and help General Marion hurry and finish planning with his officers. Please…
Eli had spoken of God as a kind father who cared for His children. She tried to picture Him as such. Not a cold, aloft deity, but as a loving Father who cared for both her and Daniel.
Please do not let them delay further.
She glanced out the small window toward the thickly treed north-east, where Marion discussed plans with Colonel Henry Lee of Virginia. Lee had passed through yesterday on his way to Snow Island with his legion. Maybe she should feel grateful more men were available, but with their coming she also felt any control of the situation slip from her grasp. All she cared about was getting Daniel Reid safely away from the British, but he was of little importance to Marion, and now Lee. They lost men every day. War victories and stratagem were what concerned them most. Not a single New Englander. If they didn’t hurry, she would find a way to rescue him on her own. She’d thought about little else the past week.
Lydia stopped pacing as their hostess and her ten-year-old daughter entered the house with a bowl of eggs and pail of milk.
“Get my large skillet down,” the middle-aged woman directed her child. “The others will be done with their chores soon, and we’ll want to have breakfast waiting.”
Guilt pricked Lydia. It wasn’t right for her to stand idly by, even if she would prove more of a hindrance than help. Over a decade had passed since she’d needed to cook or keep house. How would she survive and keep a husband in the wilderness Daniel had told her about? Not that he would ever renew his proposal—or even forgive her if they saved him in time.
In an attempt to control the despair and franticness binding her insides, Lydia moved to where the woman cracked eggs into the skillet. “Is there anything I can do?”
“You can strain the milk there if you have the mind.”
“Of course.” Lydia hefted the pail onto the table and then gathered the pitcher and a cloth as she had seen them do the evening before. She listened to the steady dribble of milk as it seeped through the cloth. A pool gathered at the top, rising. She slowed the flow, but the cloth still sank. One corner gave way abruptly, and the unstrained milk spilled, taking flecks of straw with it.
The woman clicked her tongue. “You will have to start afresh.”
Lydia nodded and pulled the cloth out of the milk. It dribbled across the table and on the floor before she got it over the pail. She tried to hold it in place with one hand while the other poured the pitcher’s contents back. Too quick. Some sloshed over the brim. Lydia dropped the pitcher and cloth on the table and stepped away. “I cannot do this.”
“Nonsense, ‘tis easy, and you are learning.”
She continued her retreat. “No. I do not know how to do anything anymore.” Even if Daniel still wanted her, she couldn’t allow him to chattel himself to such a worthless creature. Maybe it was a good thing he’d never forgive her. Or maybe he was already dead. She broke for the door. “I cannot wait any longer for General Marion to decide to help.”
Charles bolted from his chair by the fire and grabbed her arms. “Do not be foolish.”
“Foolish was waiting this long. Foolish was you staying in South Carolina. You should be safe with your family.”
“You are my family too. I will leave as soon as this is resolved.”
Lydia jerked away and reached for the latch. “Then I will resolve this now.”
“How exactly?” Charles followed her out into the yard.
She wished he had not asked that question, but at least he had not questioned how she would make it the thirty-five miles to Georgetown without so much as her cloak. The exposure to the morning air was a welcome relief, but that would not last long.
A lone rider loped toward them on the trail leading to the small plantation. One of Marion’s men.
She hurried to shorten the distance while she braced for another excuse and delays. “What news?”
“Tomorrow. Colonel Lee’s already sent men in flatboats down to wait along the Pee Tee River, but we have one more we’re trying to man.” The Continental soldier looked at Charles as he approached. “Colonel Mari…er, General Marion is hoping Mr. Selby would be willing to involve himself in some subterfuge.”
“Subterfuge?” Lydia and Charles spoke together.
“We have a few British uniforms lying about, but they would let us up on that ship of yours more willingly if we had a prisoner they wanted.” He nodded to Charles. “The general believes your cooperation will save the most lives. Including your friend’s.”
“I want to come too,” Lydia said quickly. She wouldn’t be left behind while the men risked their lives.
“The General wants you to stay here, Miss Reynolds. He said to tell you that’s an order. He thanks you for your help and the numbers and whereabouts of Georgetown’s defenses that you brought back, and says he’ll do everything he can to bring Sergeant Reid out of there.”
“But…” Lydia frowned. “Is the general only sending the one boat, and the rest will be Colonel Lee’s men?”
“No, no, of course not. He’s sending guides for the other boats. Colonel Lee’s men don’t know the area.” The soldier smiled. “Meanwhile, he’ll go by land. So in essence we’ll have the Brits and Tories surrounded. He says it’s past time we pay Georgetown a visit.”
With a full-out battle.
Lydia hugged herself. This was what she wanted, everyone to rush to Daniel’s rescue, but what of the resistance? Men would be killed, and neither Daniel nor Charles was immune to that.
“Lydia.” Charles pulled her around to face him. He sighed. “To think, not long ago I discouraged you from Major Layton because he was not good enough. I listed his place, or lack of it, in society and his family’s equal lack of wealth. Those were not the real reasons for my concern, dear sister. But his character.” Charles took both her shoulders. “Daniel Reid is a good man, he risked his life to help me, and I know how greatly you care for him. I will do everything in my power to bring him back to you.” An indent in his cheek cracked with the suggestion of a smile. “I shall even try to convince him to forgive you.”
Lydia slipped her arms under his, wrapping his torso in an embrace as a glint of hope swelled within her. “Thank you, Charles.”
He kissed her head and then slowly withdrew and turned to the general’s messenger. “I shall saddle my horse and ride back with you.” He hurried toward the corrals.
Lydia followed. “Do be careful, Charles. Your family needs you.”
&n
bsp; “And I plan on joining them soon. If we are successful at taking the ship, I might try to sail her out of the bay and northward.” The corners of his mouth turned down as he took his bridle. “I wonder how many men now prisoners aboard the Zephyr know anything about a ship’s rigging or how to set sails. I’ll need sailors.” He opened the gate to the corral and hurried through.
Lydia remained in place. “What about someone who can teach the men what to do?”
He turned. “What are you thinking?”
“Eli sailed with my father. He knows ships. He knows the Zephyr.”
“That was years ago.”
“But maybe that is something he would want. Let me ask him. If he sailed north, he could stay with the family. What he knows. And you would pay him fairly. Wouldn’t you?”
A gust of breath left Charles, but he nodded. “Fine. Ask him. If he can help me get the Zephyr out of Winyah Bay, I shall see that he is well rewarded and…that he is treated as a free man.”
“Thank you.”
He caught his horse and pressed the bit into its mouth, before rotating back to Lydia. “But how will you send word? General Marion ordered you to stay here.”
She stood resolute. “I am not one of the General’s men. I do not see how I am under any obligation to obey his orders.”
33
“It’s not safe for you here, Miss Reynolds.” Hilliard hurried down the stairs in his robe, nightcap in place. “You should not have returned.”
“I’m only sorry to have awakened you, sir.” The single lamp the servant held did nothing to light the heavy shadows of night.
“Do you bring news of Ester? Have you heard from them?”
“Yes. They are safe.” She and Maggie, at least. Lydia still worried for Charles. “Do you have anything for me? Have you seen him?”
“The lieutenant, or your Mr. Reid?” He took her arm and led her toward the parlor. He probably wouldn’t let her leave again if he had any say. “Reid looks well enough. His foot appeared to still distress him, but Lieutenant Mathews assured me he would have a physician examine him forthwith.”
The Patriot and the Loyalist Page 22
