Lavonia shook her head and smiled. “You always had the spunk that none of us had, my dear. We will do whatever we can to assist you and your valiant undertaking.”
“Here, here!” The women clapped again and surrounded Faith.
She had to admit, a little thrill of excitement ran through her at the thought of being so useful to the cause. But as soon as it washed over her, a new feeling crashed in behind it.
Was she ready for this? To be…a spy?
Saturday, December 24, 1774
Mount Vernon
George Washington sat behind his desk and scanned the ledgers in front of him. Everything looked as it should. Thankfully. He didn’t want to spend extra time managing the estate right before Faith arrived. He worked hard to keep everything in order and had good men working for him. Knowing that he’d checked before her arrival would give him a clear mind to spend with his dear friend and guest.
It had been several months since she’d journeyed to the plantation to see them, but it was their tradition to try and spend the Christmas holiday together. Martha always insisted that Faith feel like part of the family.
He shook his head and smiled. Martha had loved Faith since the day she found out about his young ward.
Leaning back in his chair, George looked out the southwest window toward the Potomac River. He loved this home. The latest expansion would take years to finish in detail work, but Mount Vernon had a hold on him that the farm of his youth on the Rappahannock River could not. The years had been hard on him but good in the long term. Providence had taught him to learn from any and all circumstances because they weren’t by chance.
Reflecting on the past, George was amazed that Faith survived those early years. After he served as county surveyor, he’d been commissioned for England and served as a major and then lieutenant colonel in the French and Indian conflict back in the early ‘50s. Later resigning his post, he then served as an aide to General Braddock and eventually was given command over all the troops in Virginia. By age twenty-six the conflict was over, he resigned another commission, and returned home. God had been good to him. Especially to take care of Faith during those days when his world revolved around being a soldier. The Martins had been a gift from God above to take her in.
Then Martha had entered the picture, and life changed for the better. No longer in the army, he married and went home to Mount Vernon and worked to build the family estate. It had been almost sixteen years of his dream life. He served in the Virginia House of Burgesses and enjoyed being a gentleman and a farmer.
As snow fell from the sky outside his home, George wished it could wash away all thought of war. Just like the blanket of white made things look clean. But a new conflict had been brewing for far too long. His meetings with the Patriot leaders were more frequent and he was certain that he would be called in to assist at any time. He’d shared as much with Martha, but she advised him not to borrow trouble. When the moment came, it came. They would enjoy their time together until then.
A light rap sounded on the door in front of him. “May I come in?”
The oh-so-familiar voice pulled his gaze from the window, and he jumped out of his chair. “Faith! You are here!”
Her effervescent laughter washed over him, and he went to hug her.
“ ‘Tis been far too long.” He tried not to sound too fatherly, but she brought it out in him.
“Yes, it has. Which reminds me, you promised to visit me in Boston.” She gave him a sideways look and placed her hands on her hips.
Feeling a bit sheepish, he cleared his throat. “Well, you see …” There really was no explanation.
She placed her hands on his shoulders and tugged him down. A tradition she’d followed since she was young. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek and then made her way to one of the chairs by his desk. “Do not even try to make an excuse. I know how much you love it here and hate to leave. Although I know you have made the trip to Philadelphia for the Congress.” She pointed a finger at him and then positioned herself in the chair and gave him a large smile. “ ‘Tis all right, George. I completely understand. But I do love to get the letters from you and Martha.”
“Does she know you are here?” He headed for the doorway. “If I don’t let her know, I will get quite the scolding.”
“Stop your teasing. Yes, she knows. I went to see her first so that you and I would have time to chat before dinner.”
George chuckled and went back to his chair. Only those he invited were allowed into his study, but Faith was welcome without exception. There would always be a special place in his heart for his young friend. Framed by irrepressible dark blond curls, her face held its usual spirit, but something seemed to weigh on her mind. Of course, she would never again be the little sprite who followed him around; she was a grown woman. But he’d always think of her as needing protection.
Memories washed over him. Faith was an independent little thing. Even after her parents died, it was only a matter of days before her spunk and spirit returned. Yes, he’d always been her protector, but not because she couldn’t take care of herself—that was for certain.
“George?”
“I am sorry. I was remembering you when you were just a little, precocious girl.” He shook his head. “What’s on your mind, Faith? I can see that something is troubling you.”
She tilted her head to the side, squinted her eyes, and pursed her lips. A sight that always made her more endearing. She was smart and quite opinionated. “ ‘Tis not necessarily that anything is troubling me. I am quite determined in my decision.”
Oh boy. What had she gotten herself into now?
“But ‘tis hard to stop my thoughts from processing it all. I want to do the very best job that I can.”
It was his turn to make a face. He lowered his brows and frowned. “Why is it I get the feeling that you have volunteered for something dangerous?”
“You’re the one who sent Lewis to us, George. You even wrote me the note saying he could be trusted. I cannot believe for one moment that you didn’t have any inclination that I would take the job.”
He closed his eyes and sighed. So she was the new messenger. He should have known. “Did no one else volunteer?”
She huffed. “Of course there were other volunteers. Every woman in there would give her life to see her children have the opportunity of a free country. But that’s just the thing…It had to be me. I’m the only one without a husband or children to sacrifice.”
And she was the bravest and probably most stubborn of them as well. George could easily envision how it had played out. “I cannot say that I’m pleased with your decision, Faith. It could be very dangerous.” The words sounded like a rebuke, and he couldn’t help it. They were out, and he couldn’t take them back.
She stood to her feet and leaned over his desk, her cheeks matching the red of her dress. “I am shocked at you. Why…were you not the one who taught me to follow my instincts and not let anyone think less of me because I was a woman? When I inherited everything and then lost Joseph too, were you not the one who stood by my side and encouraged me to find my strength in the Lord? Told me all things were possible with God? And were you not the man who encouraged me to put my ladies group together so that we could help the Patriot cause? Goodness, George. I am thirty-two years old. I believe I can handle this job whether you approve or not.” Hands on her hips again—a sign that she was not to be argued with—she lifted her chin, gave him another little huff, and sat back in her chair.
He took a deep breath and tried not to smile at her outburst. This was his Faith. He shouldn’t expect anything less. In the back of his mind, yes, he’d always thought she could be the one to volunteer. He’d just conveniently blocked those thoughts from surfacing. “I’m sorry, Faith. ‘Tis not that I doubt your abilities. But as your guardian for all those years, it is difficult for me to let go sometimes. You forget that I know the ugliness of war. I do not wish that for anyone.” He and Martha would probably pray
uncountable hours for their “girl” and worry for her safety every moment…but he couldn’t stand in her way. They all had to sacrifice. He wiped a hand down his face.
She softened and reached out to lay her hand atop his. “I’m sorry for my outburst, George. And the last thing I want to do is add to your worry.” She sighed and lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Heaven knows that Martha will give me a stern talking to as well. But you know this is something I must do.”
All he could manage was a nod. They would need a lot of strength for the days ahead, and Faith definitely had plenty of that. “Weber better keep you safe.” He stood as well and leaned toward her, tapping her nose with his finger.
“That’s God’s job, George. You taught me that.”
He came around his desk and offered her his arm. “Right, you are, my dear. Now why don’t you accompany me to dinner. I have a feeling it will take a lot of convincing to keep Martha from accompanying you back to Boston to watch over you.”
Faith’s laughter filled the room as the aromas of a sumptuous feast pervaded his senses. It was Christmas after all. Time to celebrate the birth of Christ and put all the rumblings of war aside.
After they told Martha.
Thursday, January 12, 1775
Hingham, Massachusetts
Matthew crouched behind the stone foundation of Old Ship Meetinghouse and waited as the sun went down. The sky was streaked with pinks and purples, and on any other night, he’d take the time to enjoy the beauty. But tonight was the first time he was to meet his messenger. His nerves felt frayed. The thought of a woman being sent as a messenger to a spy was the equivalent of leading her into the lion’s den. But that’s what the Patriots had asked her to do! How could they do such a thing?
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Calm was what he needed at this moment. This was their first test meeting. They needed to know who the other was, they needed to feel familiar with several different rendezvous points. It would take them a few weeks of practice, and then prayerfully, it would all be ready to go before things got out of hand. The fear within the Patriots was of a British attack. And no one knew how soon that could happen. It had taken years to get to this point, but everyone felt the tension in the air.
Sending a prayer heavenward, he praised the Lord for the beauty in the sunset and for another day to worship Him. If Matthew could just keep his focus there—worshipping God—all the time, he’d probably have a much better go of it.
Opening his eyes, he determined to do just that. The only way they’d gain freedom was if they followed Him. Thankfully, the leaders of the Patriot movement were God-fearing men.
The night sky darkened around him and the only sound was that of his own breath. Time was of the essence. Prayerfully his new messenger wasn’t lost.
The crunch of snow underfoot sounded from the north side of the church. Was that her?
Waiting at the appointed meeting spot, Matthew kept close watch on everything else around him. The trees were covered in ice and snow and the wind was utterly still. No movement of any kind broke the quiet, except for the continued footsteps.
Light and quick, the weight sounded to be from a woman. A man’s steps were farther apart and more plodding.
Turning to his right, he held his breath and kept his chin tucked so that his face wouldn’t be visible in the dim light. Just in case it wasn’t his expected guest, he couldn’t be too cautious.
The footsteps slowed and then stopped. But whoever it was hadn’t rounded the corner of the building yet. Was she in trouble? Or possibly second-guessing herself?
Matthew moved a few steps closer and waited. The scent of roses wafted over him.
Nothing happened.
The seconds dragged by as if he were holding his breath and simply relishing the scent. Had she changed her mind?
A little huff sounded and then a step.
Matthew exhaled.
Five more steps and then a voluminous gown that seemed gold in color in the waning twilight appeared around the corner. The small woman in the fine dress stepped all the way toward him.
As she came closer, Matthew couldn’t breathe for a moment. She was the loveliest woman he’d ever seen. When George told him that his friend would be helping them and she was a widow, Matthew had fully expected to meet an older—in fact he’d envisioned a much older—lady.
“Are you …” She licked her lips. “Are you Mr. Weber?” Her voice was so soft, he almost couldn’t discern the words so it gave him an excuse to step closer.
She didn’t hesitate and stepped toward him too.
The bottom of her skirt swished against his boots. Whoever she was, she had great wealth. And no lack of confidence. Her eyes shone with it.
“Mr. Weber?”
He nodded and tried to convince his brain to engage in the conversation.
“I’m pleased to meet you.” She held out a hand. “My name is Faith Jackson.”
“Mrs. Jackson.” His manners kicked in and he bowed but almost knocked her in the head with his own, they were so close. “My apologies.” He felt the heat rise to his cheeks, but he didn’t step back. Thankfully, it was almost fully dark.
“George told me that you were a trusted friend of his from his surveying years.” No censure, no hesitation. She kept a close eye on her surroundings, and it made her appear quite smart. “I remember him writing about you. He always thought his stories would be boring to me, but I could imagine a great adventure occurred almost everywhere George went.”
It all hit him in that moment. As he gave a slow nod, a rush of memories flooded him. So she was that Faith. The inquisitive, precocious, and spunky young girl he’d heard so much about.
She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “Did I remember incorrectly?”
“No.” He shook his head. “It just occurred to me that you were the Faith that George told me about…the one he had written to all those years.” The beauty before him had been George’s ward. It all made sense now. All the stories his friend had shared over the years of the neighbor girl who had the bravery of ten men. She’d lost her parents as a child, and if he remembered correctly, she’d lost her husband only a week after their wedding. His eyes widened. Newfound respect flooded his chest. “When George told me about my appointed messenger, he forgot to tell me that it was you.”
Mrs. Jackson laughed and then covered her mouth. “My apologies,” she whispered and looked around her as if the sound would have drawn spectators. “He did not tell me anything about you either, other than that he trusted you and had worked with you for Lord Fairfax.”
“I heard stories of you all those years, so I am quite familiar with Faith Lytton—um…Faith Jackson.” He couldn’t help the smile. He’d always wanted to meet the little “sprite” George described. But these were not the circumstances he’d been expecting.
“Well, I am sure we will get acquainted the next few months.” She smiled up at him. “I am thankful that this first meeting went well. I don’t believe anyone has seen us.” She causally checked the surroundings.
“No, I don’t believe they have.”
“I look forward to meeting you again, Mr. Weber.” Her broad smile flashed white teeth at him.
“Please, call me Matthew.”
“Then you must call me Faith. At least when we are alone like this.” Her brow furrowed. “Which I guess will be every time we meet, since we are not supposed to be seen together.”
The clouds moved away from the moon for a moment, and he got a better glimpse of her eyes. They appeared a light brown in the light, but he couldn’t determine the color with certainty. She seemed highly intelligent and not at all afraid, in fact her courage astounded him. So what had been the hesitation when she first arrived? Had she been checking to see if anyone had followed or seen her? And what of her tiny huff? These were the things that he wanted to ask but knew he would have to wait until a later time.
“I suppose I should be going.” Faith took a step back. “ ‘Tw
as a pleasure to meet you…Matthew.” Her smile was a beautiful sight.
“You as well.” He bowed. “I look forward to seeing you next time.”
She nodded and turned around. As she walked around the corner, she looked over her shoulder and smiled at him again.
When her footsteps faded into the quiet of the night, Matthew leaned up against the wall of the church. No longer affected by the bitter cold, he pondered what had just happened.
He’d met his messenger. And she wasn’t anything like what he expected. George was of course to blame. It all would have been so much easier if he had simply told Matthew that it was Faith.
But then, he’d been completely distracted by her. Not a good thing.
He’d do better next time. He had to. She was only a distraction because he hadn’t known what to expect. Now that he knew who she was, he could prepare for their next meeting and be a perfect gentleman. It was all for the Patriot cause and none other.
Providence had shined down on them all. The tasks before him weren’t as daunting as they seemed a few hours prior. It must be the confidence Mrs. Jackson exuded. Or the fact that he felt instantly that he could trust her.
Who was he kidding? He couldn’t wait until the Patriots had a message to give him. Because he wanted to see Faith Lytton Jackson again.
Faith took her basket to the market near Hingham where she was assigned to meet Matthew. It was a much different area than that of her own home in Boston. She’d need to get better acquainted with it. Meandering through the market, she tried to appear like a regular customer. Even in her simplest gown, she stood out a touch. Perhaps Marie could sew her something different to wear.
Mr. Lewis’s words ran through her mind. He had returned to visit after her first meeting with Mr. Weber to give her detailed instructions for future contact. Since it went well and no one saw them, they were ready for the next phase. The actual exchange of messages.
The Patriot Bride Page 5
