“Good.” She allowed her shoulders to relax from some of the worry that had built upon them since she’d seen Daniel a week earlier. “No matter what happens tonight then, you will send the deed of the cottage to the lieutenant’s family.”
“What is going to happen tonight?”
Lydia looked from him to the darkened window. General Marion and his brigade couldn’t be very far behind her. “I cannot be sure, but—”
The muffled boom of a musket sounded near the harbor.
“But I think we shall soon know.”
~*~
Daniel relaxed into the wall and the gentle rocking of the ship. A yawn watered his eyes and he closed them. Sleep was what he needed now, but the murmur of voices on deck made him pause. Probably just new guards relieving their weary counterparts, but the timing struck Daniel as off. By hours. Or maybe he had lost track of time in this little room.
A shout rang, followed by the distinct clang of steel on steel. Daniel sat up and drew his dagger. A musket discharged. He shook off the strip of cloth binding the blade as he heaved to his good foot and hopped to the door. He laid his ear to the aged wood only to have it jerked away. The door swung open. His weight followed, and he stumbled into the man standing just outside. He grabbed Charles’s shoulders. “Selby?”
Charles grinned. “I did not expect such a warm greeting.” He glanced to Daniel’s blade flat against his torso. “Or were you trying to stab me?”
Daniel righted himself, looking past to the cluster of redcoats circled by…more redcoats?
“Those are our men,” Charles said, as though reading his thoughts. “General Marion decided to call on Georgetown. Some of us came down the river in flatboats while he strikes by land. We knew you would not want to be left out.”
Daniel frowned at his foot and slipped Lydia’s dagger into his belt. “Not that I’ll be much help.”
“Lydia told me you hurt your ankle again. Can you walk?”
“With help. I do not think I’ll be much use to you tonight.” Not that they needed his assistance. They’d opened the door to the hold and the prisoners climbed out, looking worse for wear after a month aboard but more able-bodied than him. “Wait, when did you see Lydia—I mean, Miss Reynolds? You’ve been back to Georgetown?”
“No, she came and found us. Told us you’d been captured and asked for help.”
“Help?”
Charles patted his arm. “It seems my sister-in-law is quite taken with you.”
The doorframe supported Daniel. “But you were the one who told me…” She was a Loyalist. She had toyed with his affections. Lied to him.
“I do not think she is playing games anymore, my friend. I believe she is quite genuine in her affections.”
Daniel watched as their British prisoners were forced down into the hold. He was too tired to think about Lydia right now. He’d untangle that web another day. “What are your plans with the ship?”
“We shall see if these men know of anything but plows, and then prepare her to sail. I want to have her ready to weigh anchor as soon as possible, but not until dawn, in case General Marion requires assistance. Then we shall sail out of this bay and north to join with the Continental Navy. And my family.”
North. Daniel could stay aboard this ship and he would soon be on his way home. Finally.
He pushed from the wall. “What would you like me to do, Captain?”
Charles chuckled. “Do you have any experience as a sailor?”
“None.”
“Then sit down and let that ankle of yours heal once and for all.”
Not able to argue, Daniel found a seat on a crate out of the way.
The last of the scarlet coats disappeared below deck.
Across the bay, the darkened town was barely visible—too dark to tell what was happening there. Only the occasional popping of gunfire indicated that a battle had begun.
Daniel glanced back to the hold. He didn’t remember seeing if Lieutenant Mathews was still aboard.
~*~
The town seemed much too quiet for one under attack. Lydia even dozed for a couple of hours on the settee in the parlor. Mr. Hilliard remained in his chair the whole night and listened with her. The world beyond the walls remained a mystery. Finally, a first hint of dawn glowed blue in the windows, and Lydia moved to the door.
Hilliard followed. “Where are you going? It won’t be safe out there. We do not know what is happening.”
“And sitting here will not enlighten us. I need to find Eli and get him to the docks. And I need to know what happened onboard the Zephyr.” She set her hand to the latch, but her gaze moved to the walking cane Ester’s father used on his strolls. It was propped against the small table hosting a lamp. “May I take that with me?”
“What?” He looked to the cane and grunted with understanding. “Very well, but—”
She snatched up the cane and hurried out before he had time to say anything more. The streets seemed abandoned, not a soul in sight, but with windows shuttered and doors barricaded as though the town braced for a large storm.
Cane tucked under her arm, Lydia hurried the few blocks to the grand house her father had built for his daughters—now left to the British to do with as they saw fit. She searched the shrinking shadows as she went, all her senses alert. The shuffle of boots. The scrape of an opening door. The nicker of a horse. Lydia darted and dropped behind a hedge.
Two dozen partisans on horseback cantered around a corner and across to the next road leading out of town. General Marion’s men.
As their hoof beats faded, she bolted across the street and cut through a yard. Home. The house appeared abandoned, and she dashed up the steps and inside. Shadows laid over the stillness. No one moved. No one spoke. Perhaps no one lived here anymore, but what had become of the slaves? Her boots sounded out each step to the back of the house. A gasp broke from her throat as she rounded a corner where someone stood.
“Miss Lydia?”
“What are you doing here, Molly?” And with a skillet in hand as though she were ready to attack. Two other women stood behind her, similarly armed.
“The officers left in the night. Rebels are in the town.”
“Where is everybody else? Where is Eli?”
Molly glanced at the back door. “Went to help keep the horses, lest someone tries to make away with them.” She followed Lydia across the hall. “Don’t you be going out there!”
Lydia hurried through the door and ran across the yard and down the narrow lane to the stables. The barrel of a gun swung toward her as she burst inside.
Two men stood masked in shadows, their skin blending with the dark.
Eli lowered the weapon.
“What are you doing back here, Miss Lydia?”
“I came for you.” She stepped back out into the sunlight and waited for him to follow. “Charles needs your help on board the Zephyr. It is your choice, but if you wish, you can sail north with him and have a home and employment in his house.”
“How did Master Charles get aboard the Zephyr?” His eyes lighted. “That’s where your rebel, Mr. Reid, is?”
“He is hardly my Mr. Reid.” As much as she wished it.
“But my assistance aboard the Zephyr may keep him safer.”
And take him home to his family. “I believe it will.”
Eli’s gaze grew tender. “Then I will go.”
She stood in place, wanting to embrace him, but unsure. “Thank you.”
He squeezed her arm, and she crumbled against him, letting the cane fall. “Thank you, Eli.”
He gave her back a light pat. “Now, Miss Lydia. No time for this. I’m needed on the Zephyr.”
Despite his insistence that she remain behind, Lydia took the cane and followed him east past the storehouses to the bay. The Zephyr sat in place, but she could hear shouts as the sails were hauled up the great masts. The ship was preparing to leave.
The harbor, like much of Georgetown, appeared abandoned, but she hurr
ied with Eli to the end of one of the docks and one of the smaller rowboats belonging to the shipping company.
“If they were successful, Charles will be watching for you. But be careful.” She passed the walking cane to him. “And give this to Mr. Reid.”
“I wondered if that’s who it was for.” Eli climbed into the boat and yanked the towline free. He crouched and took up the oars. “Best be getting back to the Hilliards’ where you’ll be safe.”
She nodded but didn’t move as she searched the decks of the ship for the red of the king’s soldiers. It was not to be seen. Most of the men wore earth tones with highlights of blues and maroons. Charles must have been successful. Daniel would be free now…but if only she could be sure. If only she could see him, even from this distance, and know that he would soon be on his way home to New England and his beautiful Mohawk Valley.
~*~
Daniel glanced to the east as the tip of the sun touched the horizon with its golden light. Timber groaned under the weight of booms being raised, fittings squawking against the strain. Sails swooshed with release and then billowed as a gust of wind rose on the bay.
“You look ready to go,” Charles said, coming beside him.
Not nearly as ready as he should be. Daniel made sure his throat was clear before speaking. “That boat—news from the General?” He’d seen the small row boat approaching.
“Yes. Marion and the rest of Lee’s men are on their way out of Georgetown. They took Colonel Campbell and several other British officers. They will head down toward the Santee River. He suggests we also take our leave.”
Soon South Carolina would be no more than a memory. “Did they say why the night was so quiet?”
“It seems the British did not put up much of a fight, and the Loyalists barricaded themselves in their homes. Only lost a couple of men. General Marion figures they have left enough of a mark as not to risk any more lives.” Charles moved toward the bow, probably intent on one last look at his town. Leaning over the side, he squinted at the docks. “I swear. If that is…” He darted away and returned a moment later with a telescope. After a glance, he thrust it to Daniel. “I should have known she would come.”
A cry went up that another rowboat approached.
“That will be Eli.” Charles hurried to where men gathered along the portside.
Daniel’s knuckles whitened from clasping the telescope as he brought it to his eye and peered through the magnifier at the lone figure standing on the docks.
Her arms folded across her abdomen, she looked directly at him in return. She pulled the hood from her hair and several dark tresses fell from where they had once been gathered on the back of her head.
Lydia.
The mumble of voices grew to a roar as men approached Daniel from behind. A hand clasped his shoulder.
“That woman does not know what is good for her,” Charles said. “With Eli here now, we will soon be on our way.”
“What about…?” Daniel lowered the telescope, but not his gaze.
“She loves you,” Eli said from the other side of him.
Daniel stole a glance at the gray-haired Negro, and then looked back to where Lydia stood. Dared he believe it? As much as he wanted to…
“Told me to give you this.” Eli held out a simple wood cane.
A shout rose as a larger rowboat pushed away from the ship.
Daniel leaned over. “You didn’t say they were going back.”
“Yes.” Charles withdrew. “Several of the men who were prisoners are not anxious to go north. Their families are in this and neighboring parishes. They will take the flatboat as well and catch up with Marion and Lee.”
“I should go too.” Daniel said the words before they had time to register in his consciousness. His ankle still hurt, and Marion’s brigade was withdrawing. It would be too easy to end up back in the clutches of the British. Or dead.
“If you are sure. As much as I hoped this would be your decision, perhaps it is unwise considering the state of your ankle.”
Daniel took the cane from Eli. Charles was right, but Pa had never let his bad leg stop him from settling in the wilderness and supplying for the needs of his family…from following his heart.
But what if he was mistaken again?
“Last boat is ready to go, Mr. Selby,” someone called.
There was no time to wrestle with the choice, but a lifetime to wonder if Lydia had ever spoken the truth.
~*~
Lydia stared at the spot he had stood beside Charles, the latter recognized by his deep blue coat. She couldn’t be completely certain the first man was Daniel, but the height, build, coloring—everything was right. And he’d seen her. Likely the only goodbye she would get.
A rowboat moved away from the ship, and Lydia took one last look at where the two men stood. Father, take them safely from here. With the prayer repeating in her heart, she turned away. They were unharmed and soon would be far from here.
Her feet hastened up the dock, but she couldn’t outrun the ache rising within. She clasped a hand over her mouth to contain the need to cry out. The fear and worry of the past few weeks fell away, leaving raw, untainted pain. All her attempts to keep her heart safe had been for naught. And yet, strangely, she had no regrets—not for loving him. If only the loss did not hurt so keenly. But she was to blame this time. Not God.
Lydia cut past her father’s storehouses. She reached the smaller one before pausing to question where she was going. She no longer had a home here or a cottage in England—even if she could cross the ocean. Only one thing remained for her in South Carolina. She turned toward the graveyard for one final goodbye, but only made it several yards.
“Where are you coming from, Miss Reynolds?” Major Layton emerged from the trees ahead, his light hair loose from its tie, his wig and coat gone, his vest open. He sneered, the dark smudge above his eye and the trickle of drying blood from one of his nostrils only adding to the distortion as he sauntered her direction. A patch of red showed on the sleeve of his linen shirt. “You have joined your brother-in-law in his treason, haven’t you? Perhaps it is you I should have interrogated, instead of your rebel.”
34
“You want to get out of the boat here? Are you sure, Sergeant?”
Daniel wasn’t, but he answered in the affirmative. “After you’ve found horses, I’d be obliged if you left one just southwest of town. There’s a grove and an oak so old…you’ll know it when you see it.”
One of the men in the boat nodded. “I am familiar with the one. We will find you a mount if there is one to be had.”
“Thank you. I’ll try to catch up with you shortly.” Daniel hobbled up the rocky bank very close to where he had swum ashore after being cornered by the redcoats. He dearly hoped his recklessness would not lead him to any more swimming.
Lydia had been headed past the storehouses.
Daniel hurried, with the hopes of meeting her. Though he still wasn’t sure what he’d say. Or how to get the truth out of her. Or if he would even believe what she said. He slowed at the sound of Lydia’s voice.
A man answered.
Daniel stopped dead. Major Layton’s throaty growl had visited his nightmares more than once since his watery interrogation. Daniel stepped against the wall of the building and inched closer.
Lydia came into sight first, faced away.
Layton was more visible and appeared to have not had the most pleasant of nights. Too bad Marion hadn’t hauled him away with Colonel Campbell and the others.
With Lydia turned from him, Daniel couldn’t make out most of her words, just her tone—fresh churned butter on a warm day.
Layton’s hand brushed up her arm and then held her shoulder.
Her fingers appeared over his.
Daniel leaned back out of sight to catch his breath. This couldn’t be right. Not after what Eli and Charles had both said. She loved him. She’d even told him so. But now he didn’t know what to believe. Or feel. Better to hobble away
now and not risk himself again. Not for the likes of a Loyalist.
~*~
“You know where Selby is, don’t you?”
Lydia shoved Major Layton’s hand off her shoulder and tried to widen the gap between them, but he grabbed her wrist and snapped her back to him.
“You have been helping them this whole time, haven’t you? As much a rebel as the rest of your family.”
She started to shake her head, it really was not true…or, at least, it hadn’t been. She had always wanted this war to be over, but now she wanted the British gone. Especially Major Layton. Lydia attempted to jerk away, but with no effect on his grip. “Let me go.”
The crack of his palm stung her cheek and watered her left eye. His fingers bit into both her shoulders as he shook her. “Where is Selby now?”
Lydia wasn’t sure if he had the ability to read her mind, or if she had accidently glanced toward the bay, but the major stiffened and his gaze followed her thoughts to the Zephyr.
“He is on board that ship?” With a string of curses, he shook her again. “Tell me!”
“Yes.” Both Charles and Daniel were out of the major’s reach.
“Unhand her.” Like a dream enshrouded in nightmare, Daniel’s voice sounded from behind her.
No! Lydia twisted to see him standing there, saber in one hand, cane in the other. “No, Daniel.”
Instead of shoving her aside and charging Daniel, the major swung her against him and tightened his hold. He drew a dagger and laid it against Lydia’s neck, its edge chill and so very thin.
“If you do not wish the lady to lose her head on your account,” Major Layton hissed, “I suggest you drop your weapon.”
Daniel’s gaze deepened as he searched her face. Then his shoulders slumped. The saber dropped from his hand and clattered to the stony ground.
The blade eased away slightly from her skin while the major let go of her with his other hand and drew his pistol. He aimed the gun at Daniel. “I will take one victory today, even if I cannot have Selby or Marion. No quarter this time, Sergeant.” A tight laugh spasmed in his chest. “Unless it is Tarleton’s, as you call it.”
A scream rose in Lydia’s throat, but it wouldn’t sound. I will not be the one left behind. Not again. Lydia spun, bringing her elbow into Layton’s ribs as the other hand grabbed for the gun. She hardly felt the blade slashing into her shoulder as the pistol’s discharge erupted in her ears.
The Patriot and the Loyalist Page 23
