The Governor's Ladies

by Lake, Deryn

  As it transpired, Captain Thomas Moncrieffe had not received the Governor’s instructions that night. The sealed letter had been left with one of the servants, who put it on a table waiting his master’s return. The Captain, coming back early that morning, had fallen into bed without knowing that the message had come.

  On discovering this General Gage went beserk and shouted at everyone until, at seven o’clock, the brigade was finally summoned into marching order. By half past the hour they were ready to go but were kept waiting while someone went to summon the Marines, who were mysteriously missing but meant to join them. Their orders had been sent to Major Thomas Pitcairn, who was already fighting at Lexington by this time, and were awaiting his return in his room. Gage’s fury redoubled and it was left to Hugh Percy to calm him down.

  “Sir, it cannot be helped. How could anyone have known that those instructions to Pitcairn were from yourself? We must remain calm.”

  “Calm!” Gage thundered in full voice. “Was ever a mission more ill-fated than this? I tell you, Hugh, it has the kiss of death upon it.”

  Because somebody betrayed your secret, thought the Earl, and I don’t have to look too far to know who it was.

  “We’ll be ready to march soon, Sir. Mark my words we’ll give ’em a pasting if we meet resistance.”

  “Which you will,” the Governor replied heavily.

  “Well, Sir, with your permission I’ll inspect the men.”

  “Oh do so, do so,” came the somewhat testy reply.

  So the Earl mounted his splendid sorrel horse and passed along the ranks of his soldiers, a brilliant sight in his uniform of gosling green and scarlet, trimmed with silver lace.

  At eight-thirty they were finally ready to march, making a stirring sight as they left town with colours flying and the fifes and drums playing ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ as a particular insult to the locals. At the rear of the brigade had gone a set of mounted scouts, one of whom had been the faithful Calico Joel. He had bowed from the saddle to Tom as he passed him by.

  The Governor, watching them go, felt every kind of emotion that it was possible to feel: proud that he was the head of such a fine body of men; in despair that he had been betrayed by his wife of seventeen years; stirring to a second youthfulness by his passionate interlude with Sara. How can a man cope with so much? he thought. Then, bracing up, he rode through town to see her, his heart lifting at the very idea.

  *

  He went on horseback, his usual disguise of a plain cloak falling back as he rode so that all the world could see it was the Governor who set forth. Wherever he went he received salutes. Some from the soldiery not involved in the present conflict, others given impudently by people of the town. He returned them all and felt a certain pride in the fact that he was such a recognisable figure and that, for once, he was abroad, not stuck in Province House as was his custom.

  He spotted Sara before she had even seen him, making her way down Salem Street, past Christ Church, heading for a house at the far end. Tom reined in his horse and sat watching her, feeling his heartbeat speed up as if he were a youth again. The experience of the previous night had sealed his fate. He was in love with her as only an older man for a younger woman can be. Yet for all that he could not help but notice her ragged clothing and the fact she had no cloak or coat. He decided there and then to fit her out with a new wardrobe.

  Then he took himself to task. How could his mind be on such frivolities when men were dying in Lexington and Concord? But he knew, deep down, that only Sara and the magic she worked on him would give him sufficient strength to get through the bitter times that lay ahead.

  He called out to her and she turned, smiled, and hurried towards him, standing at the horse’s head and looking up.

  “Master Governor, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

  He shrugged. “These are busy times. Where are you going?”

  “To the house at the end of the street. It’s standing empty and I wondered if I… we… might be able to rent it.”

  Tom dismounted. “I’ll come with you.”

  “That would be a pleasure, Sir.”

  They walked along, Tom leading the horse by the reins. “Last night was wonderful,” he said, almost under his breath.

  “It was for me too, Sir.”

  “It will get better, I promise you.” She shot him a look but said nothing, and Tom continued, “I swear that I will make you one of the happiest women in Boston.”

  “I think, Sir,” she said, dropping him a small curtsey, “that you will make me one of the happiest women in the world.”

  They had reached the house but repeated banging on the door produced no result. Then from a dwelling further down the street a young female emerged.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, giving the Governor an inquisitive stare. He pulled his cloak tightly round him. “This house. Would you know who lives here?”

  “It’s empty, Sir. The owners got out of town. They left us in charge. I’m Maria Stillman, the Reverend’s daughter.”

  “I would like to rent it for my ward. Who should I see about that?”

  “Why, my father or me. We’ve been put in charge.”

  Thirty minutes later it was done, except for the embarrassing fact that Tom had left the house in such a hurry that he had very little money on him.

  “I’ll send some over immediately. Now, do you have any objection if my ward moves in straight away?”

  The girl looked suddenly sly. “When the money comes, Sir, then she can.”

  “Very well. Sara, go back and pack up. I will get Andrew to call and tell you when the debt is cleared.”

  “Yes, Sir.” But once Miss Stillman had gone, she looked up at him shyly. “What is a ward, Governor?”

  “Someone put into my custody. Someone over whom I would have control.”

  She gave a sudden grin. “Guess I’d rather be a mistress, Sir.” And with that she had walked away, leaving him alone.

  The gallant troops of Brigadier Lord Hugh Percy saved the British force from being completely routed that day. As they arrived at Lexington they saw to their intense horror that Colonel Smith’s men had been reduced to a running mob and were being hounded by Yankee fighters. Ordering his artillery to open fire with the field guns, Percy pounded the rebels from above, the response to which was to send them scurrying for their lives.

  But the battle was far from over. Having sent Andrew off to see to Sara, Gage had felt certain that lack of ammunition was going to be Lord Percy’s problem and ordered two ammunition wagons, escorted by one officer and thirteen men, to set out. But the whole thing was ambushed and never reached the Earl, adding to his problems. He and Colonel Smith met to discuss the situation.

  “We’ve fifteen miles to go and only thirty-six rounds to cover us,” Hugh said, sitting in the Munroe Tavern, which he had made his headquarters.

  “I am more than aware of the problem,” replied the Colonel gloomily.

  He was the opposite of Percy, lacking his flair and style. He had gained promotion by doing everything neatly and in good order, and thus had been chosen to lead the expedition to Lexington and Concord. It was the Earl, however, who had been sent to bail him out.

  “There’s nothing for it,” continued Hugh, taking a nip of brandy to brace himself up. “We shall have to send a rider back to Boston for reinforcements.”

  “But surely tile Governor…”

  “The Governor must face facts,” Percy replied harshly. “Either he helps us or we all end up dead.”

  Colonel Smith also took a glass of strong liquor. “What is it about these countryfolk that they have become so invulnerable?”

  “They’ve been preparing, that’s what. They’ve been drilling and marching and handling guns for some time now.”

  “Do you mean to say that they’ve been getting ready for war?” Lord Percy finished his glass and held it out for a refill. “Yes. That is precisely what they have been doing.”

  “My God, th
en we’re going to lose the Colonies.”

  “I think, Colonel, that we probably are. Anyway, back to practicalities. Who shall we send?”

  “Lieutenant Rooke,” Smith answered without hesitation. “He’s a fine rider and should make the town fairly swiftly.”

  “Right,” said the Earl.

  Five minutes later the handsome young aide-de-camp was saluting smartly before him. “Yes, Brigadier?”

  “Rooke, I want you to ride back to Boston without discovery. Once there, you are to go immediately to General Gage. Tell him that Colonel Smith’s command has been rescued but that we are going to have to fight every step of the way back. Tell him that further reinforcement is of great importance.”

  “Yes, Sir. Anything else?”

  “No, just good luck to you.”

  “Thank you, Brigadier. I shall do my damnedest.”

  Once he had gone a heavy silence settled itself over the room. “Well, let’s to it,” said Hugh Percy. “We can fight ’em off as best we can.”

  “Death or glory,” answered Colonel Smith, but his words had a hollow ring to them.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  April 19th, 1775

  It was a sad and sorry army that eventually completed the long march back to Boston with the fighting men of New England following closely at their heels. It was twilight when the first men entered Charlestown, and it was blackest night when the last exhausted British troops crossed over and took up a position on the high ground. Men dropped down onto the earth and slept, the wounded lay shivering on Charlestown’s landing stages, waiting for the Royal Navy to place them in longboats and escort them home. It was a scene of disaster, thought Earl Percy, walking amongst his men and giving them a word of cheer. And he wondered what the reaction would be in Province House.

  In the event the called-for reinforcements had not arrived. General Gage had not been able to spare a man to go to Percy’s aid. Half his force was already in the field, the other was needed to hold Boston in check. He ordered the troops to remain under arms in barracks, prepared for the population of the town to rise. Like everyone else, Tom could only wait with drawn breath the outcome of this terrible day.

  As soon as he knew the army had reached Charlestown, he left Province House and rode to meet them, waiting up at the Boston side to see the wounded be ferried across. Eventually, after what seemed hours, Hugh Percy himself crossed the Charles River and set foot once more in Boston.

  “Sir,” he said on seeing the General, and gave a tired salute.

  Despite etiquette, despite discipline, Tom Gage hugged him, he simply could not help himself. And Hugh, looking somewhat surprised, returned the hug after a second or two.

  “It was extremely rough, Sir.”

  Tom looked at him, noticing how the elegant uniform was dirty and streaked with smoke, how Hugh had a black mark on his cheek and another on his hand, how exhausted he seemed.

  “Thank God you’re back in one piece is all I can say.”

  “We can no longer underestimate them, Governor. They fought well and hard. You can take it from me that this is but the beginning.”

  “You mean that they are set for war?”

  “Quite clearly. I must confess that I never thought they would attack the King’s troops with so much dedication.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “The way they shot at us was indescribable. Quite frankly, they are a force to be reckoned with.”

  Gage shook his head. “I would never have believed that this would be the outcome.”

  “Nor I. Well, Sir, if you will excuse me I would like to go home to bed. I’ll report to you first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Very good. I’ll expect you at nine.

  The last sight that Tom had of a shattered Lord Percy was riding his sorrel horse through the streets of Boston, both man and beast looking fit to drop.

  Tom stood hesitating, wondering whether to call on Sara but deciding against it in view of the situation. Instead, he turned his horse round and trotted back to Province House. Knowing that confrontation with Margaret was inevitable, he made up his mind that tonight would not be the night. As he entered the house he saw her, clad in the dark red ensemble that he liked so much, coming down the stairs. He merely said, “Good evening,” waited for her to reach the bottom, then went up to his dressing room. When he finally descended again she was waiting for him in the library.

  “Tom,” she said directly, “for God’s sake stop treating me as if I were a leper. Speak to me.”

  “I have nothing to say,” he answered.

  “But you will have to talk to me at some time. For the sake of Charlotte we cannot ignore one another totally.”

  Tom looked at her and for the first time saw that she was getting older. “Listen,” he said, “I meant what I said the other night. You have betrayed me and I want you and the child to leave Boston on the first available ship. But I agree that until that time we must observe the cordialities. But know that you have killed my love by your actions and that it will never return.”

  She let out a muffled sob and turned her head away from him. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I was so torn…”

  “I don’t want to hear any more,” he cut across her. “From now on I shall sleep in one of the guest rooms. We shall dine together, if that is what you wish. But other than for that you may as well consider that our social contact is at an end.”

  “But Tom…”

  “Margaret, I am too tired to discuss it further. Please accept what I say. I have had a day that I would not wish upon an enemy. Can we leave it at that.”

  She opened her mouth to answer but Tom was saved by the arrival of Robin and Andrew with the first course. He was disconcerted to see that the coachman gave him the very slightest wink as he passed Tom a bowl of soup. The Governor did not respond.

  They dined in silence, the noise of eating seeming to be magnified in the intense quiet. Afterwards Tom made his way into his study and firmly closed the door. But he was not to be left in peace. A ring at the front heralded a visitor and a few minutes later Lord Rupert Germain was shown into his presence.

  Tom stood up. “My dear boy, how are you? I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  Normally pale, tonight Rupert was almost white, utterly drained of colour as he sank into a chair without invitation.

  “Sir, I’ve decided to close down the paper,” he said without preamble.

  “Why?”

  “I thought that would have been obvious. There’s going to be a war and there’s no room for a sheet like mine which openly supports your cause.”

  Tom stood up and crossed to the sideboard. “Would you like a cognac?”

  “No thanks. I haven’t eaten as yet. I think I might be sick if I drink anything.”

  The Governor gave a wry grin. “Best not then. I’d offer you supper but we have just dined.”

  “Could you spare me a little cheese?”

  “Yes, of course.” Tom rang a bell. “Will you not eat when you return home?”

  Rupert looked grim. “Fact is I’m too frightened to go back. I’m not popular because of the kind of paper I produce and mob violence is rife. When the fighting broke out yesterday I can tell you I packed up my things and left for Boston.”

  The Governor felt infinitely depressed, the news from his old friend seeming like the last nail in his coffin.

  He sighed deeply. “I am so sorry to hear this. Your lovely house. It must have been a great sacrifice to leave it.”

  Rupert smiled sadly. “It was a choice between that and my safety. I prefer to live over the printing presses in Boston than risk another night in the place.”

  “You must do what you think best, I suppose.”

  “There was no question about it. I shall go back to England eventually and start all over again. But meanwhile, Sir, consider me at your disposal.”

  At that moment Robin arrived and was duly despatched to get some cheese. When he had left the room Tom sig
hed again.

  “I’m afraid that I can offer you nothing on my staff, Rupert. Though I must do my best to secure peace, I am certain that war is a real possibility, so I have surrounded myself with military personnel.”

  Rupert gave a grin. “I didn’t really expect to come and work for you, Governor. I meant that if you need a friend I shall be here. Indeed you might well require someone to talk to, someone outside your immediate circle.”

  Tom gave him a suspicious look, wondering if he had heard anything. But Rupert sat there eating his cheese and fruit, which had just arrived, smiling amiably.

  “Kind of you, my friend,” the Governor said eventually. “I shall probably take you up on your offer.”

  Rupert nodded, his mouth being too full of food to speak.

  Much as Tom wanted to see Sara he was too exhausted to set foot outside again. Instead he went to a guest room at the other end of the corridor from his bedroom and there undressed and flung himself into bed. But he could not sleep. Thoughts came of the wounded; of the shot, of the bayoneted, of the dead. Tom found his mind had flown to the room at the barracks set aside for a hospital. How crowded it must be, how full of the sounds of the dying. By the morning the death toll would have risen even higher. What a grim way to spend a life, he thought. As the commander-in-charge of so much destruction. Then a vision of Sara came and he felt a sudden peace. Thinking about her and concentrating totally, clearing his head of any other thoughts, he finally fell asleep.

  *

  He was woken in the grey light of early morning by the sound of his bedroom door quietly opening. Margaret stood in the entrance wearing a nightdress and shawl, her feet bare. Just for a minute he stared at her blankly, then memory returned. He sat upright.

  “What is it?”

  “Thomas, we must talk.”

  “I said all I had to say last night.”

  “Did you mean it? For one mistake you would cast aside your wife of seventeen years?”