Days and weeks had slipped by almost unnoticed as autumn began to drop her vivid drapery, withdrawing slowly. Sophia wrapped her cloak more tightly around her as dried leaves darted and danced across the path in front of her. The sight of them scurrying hither and fro like playful children did not lighten her mood. The distance she had traveled by foot was only a few miles, but the time that had passed felt like an eternity.
Sophia glanced up at the nearly absent moon but did not stop walking. Covered by clouds, it cast very little light, possessing no power to dissolve the dark foreboding that continued to stalk her.
Thinking back to the violent sunset she had witnessed earlier, she tried to discount the vision and suppress her belief in omens. The deep crimson sky had been both beautiful and eerie, and the windblown trees to the west had appeared to writhe and dance against the backdrop of the bloody-looking sky. Whether it was the boughs nodding and whispering mysteriously to one another as she passed or the cool night air that made her shiver, she did not care to dwell upon.
When the slim moon finally broke through the bank of clouds for a moment, Sophia stopped to get her bearings. Squinting into the darkness as the wind whipped and pulled at her skirt, she heard the sound of rustling leaves, broken occasionally by the lonely wail of two tree limbs rubbing together.
She started to walk again, using the light from above to add a new swiftness to her stride. At last, just ahead, she made out the jagged outline of the building she sought. Then, like a candle being extinguished, all became dark again.
Sophia’s heart increased its rapid pace at the thought that Colonel Morgan may have arrived at the rendezvous place before her. Not being familiar with the area, she had wandered off the trail, and lost all track of time. Taking a deep breath, she continued toward the house, keeping to the shadows and moving without a sound, even though she had a feeling that some great evil, some impending awful event was about to occur.
Up the sagging porch steps she trod, pausing at each loud groan, her heart beating tumultuously in her ears. As she turned the large brass doorknob and gave a hesitant push, the door groaned loudly, like a distressed warning about something ominous within.
Again she paused, straining for the slightest sound that would validate the sense of foreboding that overwhelmed her. Hearing nothing, she took a step inside and felt the stagnant, stale air press down upon her. Sophia stood silently within, trying to calm her rapid heartbeat, and quell the suffocating sensation that made it difficult to breathe.
Not until she closed the door behind her did she become aware that she was not alone. A shadow emerged from a corner and began forming into the shape of a man right before her eyes. Without warning, the low glow of a single tallow candle illuminated the room, and the blunt shape detached itself from the darkness and stood before her.
“Sophia, you disappoint me.” Major Briggs strode over to a small desk and sat upon it while gazing at her with slant-eyed viciousness. His eyes sparkled unnaturally, perhaps with liquor, for the smell of alcohol now permeated the room.
Sophia could not have been more astonished had a dark spirit risen from the ashes of the empty fireplace and turned its ruthless gaze in her direction. She blinked in surprise and disbelief, but the figure did not change nor disappear. She did not answer nor did she move. She stood frozen in desperate and helpless panic as she tried to calm her thrashing heart.
She heard, rather than saw, Briggs take a step toward her and felt, rather than observed, his threatening attitude. When Sophia lifted her eyes to meet his, he laughed at her, as if taking great delight in seeing her expression of fearful, speechless surprise, and watching her throat as she tried to swallow.
She wished desperately to hide and scramble for cover in a room where none existed. She stood trembling, held in place by the mere presence of his dark stare.
“You cannot imagine with what anticipation I have been waiting for this moment,” Briggs said, his eyes emitting the eager, merciless gleam of a bird of prey about to grasp its quarry.
Sophia had always disliked—but never really feared—this man. Yet now she stood paralyzed and insensible with fright. “It was you who summoned me here?”
“Yes, such I grieve to say for your sake is the case.” He sat on the desk with his arms crossed as he studied her, speaking with a sort of ominous satisfaction. “You were, of course, expecting someone else.”
Sophia remained silent, but she felt a cold hand clutch her vitals as he gazed at her. His eyes seemed to shine a bright light on her, exposing her secrets and her thoughts. Earlier she had been practically panting, but now she struggled just to draw breath.
He cleared his throat. “Yes, a pity I could not do this at Kensington Hall, but the circumstances such as they are—”
“What is it you want?” Sophia knew she was alone and far away from anyone who could help her, but now that the element of surprise had worn off, her survival instincts began to take over. Grim necessity forced her to be strong. Composure began to settle upon her
“Is it not obvious, Miss Adair?” Briggs pushed himself off the desk and walked toward her. When he stood directly in front of her, he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I want you.”
Sophia took a step back, shaking her head in confusion. “I do not understand.”
“Allow me to explain my dear.” He spoke in a low, threatening and sinister tone. “Our positions are now somewhat reversed. ’Tis poetic justice which threatens you a taste of the downfall you schemed for me and the British army.”
Sophia cast her eyes to the floor, lest he read the fear in them. It was impossible to take his words for anything other than their full intent. He had discovered she was a spy, and he was waiting for her to admit it. “You are not making sense, Major Briggs.” It was all she could think of to say. “I do not understand what you want.”
“It’s very simple really.” He sounded almost jovial. “I want you to go back to Kensington Hall and tell everyone that you have at last come to your senses—that you have agreed to wed me.” He took a step closer, but she kept her attention on the floor. “And then I am going to come and collect you.” He paused for a moment as he watched her raise her defiant gaze. “Using force if necessary.”
“Then with force shall you be met.” Sophia took a hurried step back when his face turned red with rage.
“You arrogant little rebel-loving chit! Preferring an American officer to me! Tonight I will have complete capitulation, my little traitor.”
“I do not know what you are talking about,” Sophia said, trying to keep her voice from shaking.
“Come now, Sophia. Surely you were aware of the woe and blood evoked when you raised your treasonous hand against the British government.” He stood before her, breathing hard, his eyes burning with fury.
Sophia studied him for a moment, trying to figure out if he were bluffing or had discovered her secret. In the space of heartbeat, it became obvious that he knew. Her mind grew calmer, though it was a calmness borne of hopelessness.
“If you refer to treason as attempting to shake off the yoke of a tyrannical government, then the word has no terror for me,” she said, looking him in the eye. “I deem it a flattery to be classed with those who are willing to sacrifice all against such oppression.”
Briggs sucked in his breath as if she had physically punched him. “You make a mockery of our monarch!”
“Surely you do not believe I would follow the edicts declared by the wicked soul of a worthless king.” Sophia spoke forcefully. “I fight not to enslave but to set a country free.” She crossed her arms and turned her back on him. “Take what revenge you please. I have done what I was compelled to do as a patriot, and I'm ready for the consequences, be what they may.”
She heard Briggs take a deep breath, and when he spoke, he sounded calm and gentle. “You must know how much I care for you, Sophia.”
Sophia stiffened with frigid repulse at his tone, for it sounded more dangerous and vile than his anger
and rage. She guessed what he was going to say next, yet the words, when they came, horrified her.
“You are a woman and a spy,” he whispered, standing slightly behind her. “I profoundly esteem the one and will freely forgive the other—as your husband.”
When she whirled around to face him in protest, he placed his finger to her lips. “Hush, my darling. I have caught you red-handed thinking you were meeting an American officer. Without my protection as your husband, you will hang.”
“Then I will hang.” Sophia had no hesitation in her voice, making it clear a rope was more appealing to her than a life with him.
Briggs’s eyes flashed with anger, but now that he possessed the upper hand, he instantly calmed himself. “Not so fast. I have not yet revealed my conditions.”
“No matter your conditions—”
Sophia was unable to finish her sentence. He grabbed a handful of her hair, and tilted her head back so she was forced to look into his evil eyes.
“You have nowhere to turn and no one to turn to,” he snarled. “You are powerless and will obey me.”
“I will obey my conscience.” She did not hesitate and never did her unwavering eyes leave his.
For a moment she feared he was going to strike her, but once again he summoned his composure and merely laughed as he released his grip. “Miss Adair, you do not seem to understand two small points.”
Sophia raised her head a notch and eyed him warily. “Which are?”
He leaned down to within inches of her face. “You live at my pleasure. You die when I chose.”
Despite her rapidly beating heart, Sophia held her ground. “As I said before, Major Briggs, I am willing”—she paused a moment—“to die, I mean.”
Briggs stared at her with slant-eyed disbelief, but then calmly reached out and fingered a strand of her hair as if contemplating some evil deed. “In a few moments, other factors will be revealed that, I believe, will make you change your mind.” He brought his finger up to caress her face, and she turned her head to avoid it.
“There is nothing in this world that will make me change my mind.”
“Oh, yes, my darling, there will be a wedding tonight.” He dropped his hand from her face to finger a gun holstered at his side. “Or a funeral tomorrow.”
“Then let me be clear as well, Major Briggs.” Sophia did not try to hide her anger or revulsion. “If there is a wedding, it will be over my dead body.”
“Do not be so hasty, Miss Adair.” He paused and walked around her, as if sizing up a prized horse. “I know you better than that, and did not say the funeral would be for you. You will accept my hand in marriage, if you value his life.”
Sophia’s heart plummeted to her feet as she jerked her head back to meet his gaze. “What do you mean? Is he here?” Her throat was suddenly so dry she could barely form the words.
“Ah, so you know to whom I refer.” There was a gleam of terrible menace in his eye as he walked in front of the candle, casting a huge and grotesque shadow on the wall. “In anticipation of your stubbornness, I decided upon a punishment that would be as pleasurable for me to inflict as it would be painful for you to endure.”
He paused a moment, as if waiting for his words to sink in. “If my calculations are correct, he will be here shortly.”
Sophia blinked hard to fight the tears she felt welling within her. She had seen the potential consequences of her espionage coming, had felt it, perhaps even expected it—but she never thought it would involve Colonel Morgan.
Before she had time to respond, Briggs placed his large hand across her mouth. “Quiet! I hear someone coming.”
Sophia strained her ears, but heard only the ominous moaning of the wind. Then, from out of the darkness came the distinct sound of a horse. As she stood listening to the steady approach, she felt the shock of each hoof beat stabbing her heart.
With evil precision, Briggs pressed a gun to her throat and whispered, “Do not say a word, or he is a dead man. This house is surrounded. If you play along with my little game, he will not be harmed.”
“You will release him?” Sophia could barely form the words.
“It is you I want,” he whispered, as he moved out of the light. “Quiet now.”
Sophia stood rigid as a soldier, listening to the footsteps approach, all the while feeling as if poisonous vapors had risen in the room to wreath and curl around her. Yesterday she would have said it was her desire to see Colonel Morgan again more than anything in the world—and now it was the last thing she wanted.
She felt the blood drain from her face as she envisioned the fate that awaited her. Yet she had a strangely detached feeling, as if standing a long way off and watching someone else in the slow throes of death. Her courage and resolve, confronted by that which she could neither overcome nor endure, had receded in hasty flight, leaving only numbness in its wake
As the footsteps on the porch grew nearer, the wind outside seemed to sob. Within moments the door opened, groaning loudly again as if from a personal pain.
Chapter 11
Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.
— Ephesians 6:12-13
Colonel Morgan appeared in the doorway looking mud-splattered and careworn as he regarded Sophia cautiously without moving. For a few long moments he resembled a statue standing there without life or breath. Yet even in the dim light, she discerned a deadly intent in his eyes.
“I came as soon as I received your message.” His face revealed a mixture of agitation and concern as he stepped in her direction.
Sophia stared at him in grievous confusion as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. Major Briggs had penned a communication to her and to Colonel Morgan, making it appear they had summoned each other to this rendezvous. It had never occurred to her the writing was not Morgan’s. Scrawled and barely legible, she had only supposed it had been written at night or in a great hurry—which had only served to give urgency to her travels.
Before she could speak, or even meet Morgan’s gaze, Briggs stepped out of the shadows and into the ghastly light.
“Welcome, Colonel Morgan. Thanks to our mutual friend, Miss Adair, we finally meet face-to-face.”
Colonel Morgan blinked once in surprise before his expression turned to one of angry disappointment. He glanced at Briggs without acknowledging his presence and then shifted his attention to Sophia, his eyes gravely questioning.
Sophia knew it was useless to dispute the claim—even if she had the breath within her to try—so she stood dazed, unmoving, as if waiting to be released from a sorcerer’s spell.
From the look on his face, it appeared Colonel Morgan had never completely trusted her—perhaps assumed she had been working with the British all along. The fact that the Spanglers had retired to the safety of Kensington Hall instead of Duncannon, as he had ordered, surely suggested—and perhaps substantiated—his suspicions about her.
Sophia acknowledged his reaction with a defiant lift of her chin. What did it matter? He had never declared any interest in her. Perhaps she should take some consolation in the fact that his lack of compassion would make this whole horrible lie much easier.
From the corner of her eye, Sophia noticed the faint glow of the moon as it burst from beneath its cover, throwing ghastly shadows on the floor around her. The light seemed to linger in Morgan’s eyes as he looked around the room, perhaps trying to understand how he came to be a pawn in a game he knew nothing about.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” Colonel Morgan turned his attention to Briggs. “I have the honor of addressing ....”
“I am Major Malcolm Briggs in the service of His Majesty’s forces.” The British officer did not attempt to conceal his aversion. “I fought you once—at Brewster.”
“Really? I don’t remember much fighting from your side,” Morgan replied, with the slightest air of mockery to his tone. He made a slight a
ttempt at a bow. “A pleasure, I’m sure, Major Briggs. Although I’ve not had the honor of your acquaintance, I am no stranger to your character and reputation.”
Again, the words were said pleasantly enough, yet in such a way as to imply that Briggs’s character and reputation were not things of which to be proud.
With a low roar commencing in her ears, Sophia closed her eyes and prayed Morgan would not anger Briggs. She knew all too well of his indomitable spirit, and feared he would provoke the British officer into going back on his word to her. She glanced at Morgan and saw that his composure, as always, was calm and unruffled.
“If we’re going to examine each other’s character, let’s start with yours,” Briggs remarked savagely. “I do not like to be treated with disrespect even by those for whom I have little regard.
Sophia sucked in some air, but could think of nothing to say that would not jeopardize Morgan or incriminate herself. She slid her gaze to the window, trying to remove herself from the room by watching patchy shafts of moonlight play on the ground.
“Are you all right, Miss Adair?” Sophia heard the words as if they were coming to her through the mists of time. She glanced up at Colonel Morgan who regarded her with reckless, challenging eyes. “You look rather pale.”
For the first time, Sophia was seized with a sense of despair that bordered on mortal dread. Her eyes glanced from the vindictive face of Major Briggs, whom she loathed, to the grave, composed face of Colonel Morgan, whom she greatly esteemed, and then turned to the candle and focused on the flickering flame.
She could not speak for fear her voice would tremble or her eyes would reveal her lies. For his safety, she must succeed in hiding her true feelings no matter how much she wished otherwise. This secret yearning of her heart must remain unuttered. For his sake, and his sake alone, her lips were vowed to silence.
“I find it interesting that you have so much interest in my betrothed.” Briggs’s voice cut through her like a sharp knife. “If I were the jealous type I would officially tender a challenge.”
Liberty and Destiny Page 9
