Yes. The choice he had made was the correct one. Faith could read between the lines better than anyone he knew.
He just wished he could keep her safe.
But that would have to stay in the Lord’s hands.
Because George had to find a way to somehow win an impossible war.
The early morning light on the dewy ground that Sunday morning made Faith feel as if all the troubles of the world could wait for just a little while longer. As she walked to the carriage, the beauty around her called her to join in glorious worship of the Creator. The morning dove’s call, the fresh scent of wildflowers, and the sweet taste of honey left on her lips as she ate from the basket her family had packed for her.
Her family.
What a joyous reunion it had been. She assured them that it would not be the last and as soon as this conflict was over, she would make regular visits. She also wanted them to come visit her. But she’d invited them all to the farm in Virginia. Her parents’ farm. Her legacy.
Did that mean that she thought she wouldn’t be in Boston much longer? Probably. She took another bite of the soft, homemade bread dripping with honey.
There was so much that needed to be done to help people in her town.
The women that remained had been called upon to help soldiers, feed people, mend wounds, and help provide shelter and clothing. Now there were only a few of them left. And much more work to do.
She climbed into her carriage and told the driver it was time to go back home to Boston. She was supposed to meet Matthew tonight, and she had much to tell him. If there were letters waiting at home to be coded, she’d have to hurry to get them done in time.
How she missed going to church. Things hadn’t been the same since the British had occupied Boston. And while her church was still there, the atmosphere was decidedly different. Maybe one day soon, all would be right again.
The carriage lulled her as it traveled the miles back to Boston. It was a lengthy trip, a good forty miles, but her driver would make it before midnight. Sleep had been difficult once again last night as she’d thought about Matthew and the dangers surrounding him. Maybe she could just take a little nap.
A cacophony of sound woke Faith up. She rubbed her eyes and looked out the window of the carriage. People carried belongings, dragged carts and animals, and pushed children along on the side of the road. What was going on? As they slowly passed more and more people, the carriage eventually came to a halt.
The conveyance rocked, and she knew her driver had gotten down. Several minutes passed, and then there was a tap on the door.
Her driver opened it and peered in. “Ma’am, there has been a battle.”
“In Boston?” Again? The thought upset her more than she wanted to admit.
“Yes, ma’am. On Bunker and Breed’s Hills. The Brits have gained ground.”
Oh no. A great sigh left her lips. The Colonists had held those two high points for some time. This was a severe blow.
“But the Colonists injured more than half the redcoats from what I hear, ma’am.”
The news wasn’t warming at all, even though she knew he meant it as an encouragement. What would happen now? Was it safe to stay in Boston?
She must. People needed her.
“Would you like to continue, ma’am.”
“Yes, please.”
“As soon as the road clears a bit, I will continue on.” He closed the door and left her to watch out the window. The exodus of people made her heart sad.
It took several more hours to make it to the outskirts of her town. It only made her more anxious to see Matthew. Perhaps they could pray together over what should be done. Surely there was still hope for the many people who remained.
The carriage halted once again, and Faith leaned back. Whatever the issue was, she hoped that they would make it in time for her meeting. She’d hate for Matthew to worry over her.
Shouting came from outside.
A voice she recognized. And loathed.
Closing her eyes, she prayed he would leave.
But a banging on the carriage door interrupted her petition to God.
She composed herself and went to the door and opened it a crack. “How may I help you, Mr. Jameson?”
“It is imperative that you come with me now, Mrs. Jackson.”
“I tried to tell him, ma’am.” Her driver looked spent.
Jameson puffed out his chest and stepped in front of the driver. “I will neither be interrupted nor ignored.”
Faith huffed. “I do not believe you were ignored, nor were you interrupted, Mr. Jameson. Now I believe it is in your best interest to calm down.”
“I am not a child, Mrs. Jackson.” He held a hand up to her. “Now I insist. You must accompany me to a safer place. My coach is more comfortable than yours.” His condescending smile looked pasted on—did the man not realize his odiferous behavior?
“Mr. Jameson, I will do no such thing. Now if you will excuse me.”
“It is not safe—especially for a woman of your status—to be alone in the town, Faith.”
“Please, I do not believe I have granted you the permission to be so familiar, sir.”
“Come now.” He looked at her as if she was a half-wit. “We both know that you and I will be married soon—”
“I know of no such thing, I assure you!” That was it.
“But—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Jameson. I am not finished.” She slammed the carriage door open against the side. It probably did a bit of damage, but she was tired of this horrible man thinking he could tell her what to do. Everything boiled within her. “We most certainly will not be marrying.” She’d had more than enough of him and would not restrain her temper a moment longer. Her voice turned to a shriek when she was mad—which she hated—but the man had gone too far. “I refuse to marry you. Ever. Do you understand me? Or do I need to spell it out for you again! No. No means no.”
His face turned deep red and then darkened to a truly ugly shade of purple. “You are simply upset, Mrs. Jackson. That is all there is to this rant. When you have calmed yourself and come back to your right mind, I will call upon you again.”
“You will do no such thing!” She stomped her foot. Who cared about propriety or manners at this point? The man was insane. Or a complete fool. “I do not wish to ever see you again, Mr. Jameson. I will never marry you. And if you dare to come to my home again against my wishes, you will see how good my aim is with a musket.” She yanked the door back toward her and slammed it again—this time closed—and practically screeched through the roof, “Drive on!”
Faith was late. But with so many skirmishes happening all over town, Matthew was giving her a little extra time to maneuver her way to him. It’d been too many days since he’d been able to see her beautiful face and lovely smile. He’d had important meetings to attend, and she’d finally gone to see her family. Which was good. A refreshment for her in this horrible time of drought and dreary.
But he feared that the news he must share tonight would be devastating for them both.
Boston was no longer safe. With the militias fighting the redcoats in several locations, and after the battle at Breed’s Hill, he really had no choice. They’d have to meet for only a minute or two at most. There was too much at risk for anything else. Especially since they’d both been followed at one time or another. It had been easy to confuse the follower when circumstances were simpler. But now? The dangers were too great.
The thought just about did him in. He’d gotten so used to being able to see her. Touch her hand. Hear her laugh.
At least they’d had a little bit of time.
Soon the war would be over. At least, he prayed it would be soon.
He heard a noise behind him and turned.
It was Faith. Looking far beyond weary. There was a bit of agitation and fear lurking in her eyes.
“What happened?” He kept his voice as low as he could.
“Anthony Jameson.” She shook h
er head. “I do not wish to explain. ‘Twas horrible.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She reached into her skirt and pulled out a small note and handed it to him.
He tucked it into his waistcoat. “I am sorry.”
“ ‘Tis not your fault, but I believe I am done in from the debacle. Are you all right?”
“Yes, I am quite well.”
She nodded and looked down. “My apologies, Matthew, I probably should just go home. I do not feel alert enough to do my job well, and I need to check on my staff and make sure everyone is sound.”
Matthew took her hand. “ ‘Tis becoming too dangerous as it is, I am afraid. We should probably keep our handoffs to brief visits.”
Her face fell.
“I know. And I am deeply sorry, but I fear for your safety. It is for the best.” He held out a note for her. “It is nothing official. Just from me. Maybe we could correspond that way—through coded letters.” In the chance he could wipe the sadness from her face, he smiled and hoped she’d say yes.
Footsteps! “Hey! Who’s there?”
Matthew pulled Faith into his arms and kissed her. He wrapped his arms tight and lowered his head to keep her whole face covered. Not the way he wanted to share their first kiss.
“Nothin’ but a couple of lovers sneaking around late …” The voices went past them and turned to mumbling.
Matthew got lost in the feel of Faith in his arms. She’d stiffened at first, but then melted against him—whether in exhaustion or passion he wasn’t sure—and kissed him back. He pulled away gently and then kissed her softly one last time. Keeping her in his arms, he lifted his head an inch to look around. “They are gone.”
She pulled back. Cheeks flushed, lips curved into a smile. “Thank you for your quick thinking.” The mischievous sparkle in her eyes gave away more than her words.
“Thank you for your participation.” He took her hand again and squeezed.
“I look forward to next time.” With a swish of her skirts, she turned and slipped around the corner.
Whether she spoke of seeing him again or of their first kiss, Matthew didn’t mind. Either way he was the winner.
Looking into the long mirror in his bedroom, Anthony let out a sigh. His clothes were pristine. His hair was immaculate. He was a dashing man if he said so himself.
He lifted his chin—yes, the lines of his jaw were quite striking. His eyes? Commanding and compassionate.
If truth were to be told, he was everything that a woman would desire in a man.
What was wrong with Mrs. Jackson? Why was she ignoring him? And worse, why had she rejected him?
Turning to take in the view from the other side, he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t falling at his feet. He might be a tad bit thicker around the middle than he had been when he was younger, but his servants told him it was distinguished and very becoming for an older gentleman.
He looked one last time and shook his head. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. So Mrs. Jackson must be overwrought with stress and not thinking clearly. He’d have to fix that.
Maybe if he watched her for a few days and followed her, he could find out what it was in her life that was affecting her in such a way.
He wanted to be angry at her for speaking to him in such a manner, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that she just needed his guidance. Once they were wed and she was under his care, she’d go back to the lovely and amiable woman that he knew.
Yes, once they were married.
But first, he needed to find out what was bothering the woman. Once he eliminated that, he could move on with his plan.
Saturday, June 24, 1775
Hingham
Night had fallen, and every muscle in Faith’s body ached. From making bandages, to dressing wounds, to helping women and children escape the town without the harassment of the redcoats, she had done it all. But she hadn’t had enough rest.
As she smoothed her hair to go meet Matthew, she sighed. Would he notice her weariness? How was he doing in all this?
Her driver brought the carriage around and she climbed inside. The smells of gunpowder hung in the air. Pretty soon, she’d have to leave Boston. She knew that. But she wanted to help as many as she could before that moment. And she wanted as much time as possible with Matthew.
That was probably selfish, but it was honest.
The kiss they’d shared last time had taken her by surprise. But it was also exciting. Passionate. And she longed to do it again.
What a scandalous thought! Hands to her cheeks, she felt the warmth that flooded her face. This was why the scripture spoke of taking a spouse rather than burning with passion, wasn’t it? Did he enjoy it as much as she did? Forever grateful for his quick thinking, he’d completely covered her identity with what started out as a facade. But she knew that it had been real.
Gracious. She needed to clear her mind of these thoughts before things got out of hand. Focus is what she needed. Clarity of thought and mindfulness of her surroundings.
The carriage came to a halt. From here, she always had to walk. Her driver would leave and then pick her up in a different location. The air was thick with humidity and the stench of decay. Would their world ever be normal again?
Tonight’s meeting would be back at the meetinghouse. Things had once again gotten trickier, and it might be too dangerous to slip inside, but they would at least try.
The nights of long conversations were over. But at least now, she was sure of Matthew’s care for her. Anything could be endured for a little while when there was so much to look forward to.
Silence permeated the air around her. Even the wind was still.
But it was too quiet. Not a cricket. An owl. Nothing. Was it a trap of some sort? Oh, Lord, help me to be alert. Please keep Matthew safe.
Circling around the building, Faith looked in every direction. There was nothing to be seen. Anywhere.
And for some reason, that made her very nervous.
She headed for the side door and made her way inside the building. Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior, she paused at the entry. Then scanned the large room. The wooden benches, railings, and rafters were the only occupants. No one human was there.
The same silence that had pressed on her a few moments before was here. Why did her stomach feel uneasy? What was she missing?
With every nerve on edge, she slipped into the bench far in the corner. Was she that early? Hopefully Matthew would get here soon. The eerie feeling around her grew. Her heart picked up its pace.
The door opened and she started to smile, but then she caught a glint of red and slid to the floor as silently as she could. Footsteps echoed on the wood floor.
Her senses weren’t as keen as Matthew’s. She couldn’t tell which direction they were headed. So she slid all the way under the bench and tried not to breathe.
The steps slowed as the floor creaked, then stopped all together.
If only she knew where the soldier was now. She took tiny huffs of air in through her nose and out through her mouth hoping that there wasn’t any sound.
A chill raced up her spine in the quiet. What was he doing?
Creak!
Then another step, then two more. They sounded closer. A lot closer.
Her heart pounded in her ears. Surely, the redcoat would be able to hear it and come drag her out from under her hiding place.
A tiny squeak from behind her made her jump in the confined space. Thump!
The steps stopped.
No. Not now.
Skittering movement made her fear what she knew was back there. The unmistakable sounds of a mouse. She hated mice. More than spiders and snakes. She took in a slow, deep breath and closed her eyes. If she didn’t see it, maybe she wouldn’t do anything foolish. Like scream and make a mad dash for the door. She could do this. It was just a mouse.
Little feet tickled her backside as they ran up the outside of her skirt.
Lying on her side underneath the bench, she tried to shrink away from the animal. This couldn’t be happening. There was not a mouse crawling over her. There wasn’t. She squeezed her eyes closed even tighter. And didn’t breathe.
The larger vermin’s footsteps hadn’t begun again. He must have heard the noise. What could she do? She couldn’t give away her location. And she definitely didn’t want to wait until he found her. Maybe she could play dead.
She might die of fright right here and now anyway if this mouse didn’t hurry up and go away. Then she wouldn’t have to play dead.
The prickly feeling of the critter climbing all over her almost did her in, and she couldn’t hold her breath any longer.
The steps started again and she inhaled as quietly as she could.
Finally, the mouse crossed over her and she heard the tiny feet skitter in front of her. Faith opened one of her eyes just a smidge to see if it was gone.
The foul thing had to stop not more than a foot in front of her and look back.
As much as she wanted to tell it to shoo, Faith couldn’t give away her hiding place. Instead she pleaded with her eyes. If it would just keep running away. Away from her at least.
Of course, the poor mouse was probably wondering why she had invaded its space.
Poor mouse, indeed. She’d lost her mind.
Ears twitching, the mouse studied her and then ran the other direction.
Faith closed her eyes and listened.
“Ahh!” The soldier’s voice raised a whole octave during the shout.
Then the large vermin footsteps ran away from her. The door slammed.
Could it be? The mouse had scared the big, bad soldier away?
She made herself count to one hundred before she moved. When she was certain the coast was clear, she began to crawl out from under the bench.
Click. Thud. If she wasn’t mistaken, that was the door. Was it the same soldier or another one? At this rate, she’d have to spend the night on the floor of the meetinghouse. If they didn’t find her. What would her driver think? And where was Matthew?
She slid back into her hiding spot as quietly as she could.
The Patriot Bride Page 15
