The Patriot Bride

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  Probably not.

  The answer didn’t startle her or amaze her. But it did hurt. If Matthew chose to keep his distance from here on out, then would she change her mind about being the messenger?

  No. She couldn’t. She’d made a commitment and would see it through.

  As she paced the parlor in front of the fire, she realized a number of things: (1) She really wasn’t afraid of being the messenger. (2) She was afraid of rejection by Matthew. (3) Anthony Jameson made her skin crawl. (4) If he were out of the picture, her life would be much easier.

  And five? She loved helping out the Patriot cause. It was more important than her silly feelings on any matter, and she should just buck up and tackle the job ahead of her.

  If Matthew ignored her from now on…well, so be it.

  If Anthony continued to annoy her? She’d have to set him straight. If she could manage to get the man to listen to anyone other than himself.

  If she had to put her life on the line for the Patriots? She would gladly lay it down.

  Decisions made, her heart felt lighter. She knelt beside her favorite chair and prayed. Lord, I should have come to You first with all this mess. I am sorry. But I am laying my burdens down at Your feet now. I am sorry for my doubt. I am sorry for my fear. Forgive me where I have failed, and help me go forth in Your strength and Your peace. In Jesus’ name, amen.

  A banging on the outside door made her jump to her feet. Who would be there in the middle of the night? If it was Anthony, Faith just might skin the man alive. What a pest.

  Clayton was at the door in such swift strides that Faith wondered from which direction he’d come.

  As soon as he opened the door, a man stepped inside. “Are you the lady of the house?”

  She straightened her shoulders. “I am.”

  “Paul Revere has been riding through the night to alert everyone.” The man was still out of breath.

  “Alert us of what?”

  “The Regulars are coming out.”

  She took a deep breath. Exactly what they all were expecting. “Thank you, sir. Would you like any refreshment before you continue on your journey?”

  “No, thank you, ma’am. I best be on my way.” And with that, he was out the door.

  Clayton closed the door and looked at her.

  Faith could only shake her head and sigh. “We knew the British troops were planning something. It appears they are on their way.”

  “I shall prepare the house, ma’am.” Clayton walked away, and Faith knew that he and the staff would bar all the windows and keep the house locked up.

  But it wasn’t her house or even herself that she was worried about.

  Matthew was in even more danger now.

  Things just got trickier.

  For the rest of the night, sleep proved to be impossible. Faith dragged herself to a sitting position on her bed and watched the sunrise. She hadn’t bothered to draw her curtains last night, thinking that if fighting or a fire or anything else started, she wanted to be able to see it.

  There must be news somewhere about what was happening. Had the British army attacked? Had they captured the Patriot weapons cache? That had been the goal—they all knew it. But had they succeeded?

  Marie entered her room with a tray. “Are you ready to eat, ma’am?”

  Faith nodded. “I would like to get dressed as swiftly as possible, though. There’s things I need to check on.”

  “Aye, ma’am. I’ll get your clothes ready, right now. How’s the blue silk for today?” Marie brought her the tray and headed for the door.

  “That is just fine. I will be done by the time you return.”

  Marie curtsied and exited the room.

  She ate a few bites and realized nothing sounded appetizing. Not until she knew more. Food could wait. Getting out of her bed, Faith hoped that Marie would return in the next few moments. She went to the dresser and picked up her brush and ran it through her dark blond, curly hair.

  Several thoughts niggled at the back of her mind. Was Matthew all right? What about George and Martha? Would they have heard yet? Mount Vernon was a good distance away, and it took a good deal of time for messages to be delivered. Since George wasn’t currently serving in any military capacity, Faith realized that when they did hear, they would be quite worried about her. And then it probably wouldn’t be too much time before George had to leave his beloved farm again.

  Marie entered with gown and petticoats, shoes and stockings, in tow.

  Without waiting for her maid to start, Faith slipped on her stockings and tied the ribbon garters above her knees. Marie handed her the dicky petticoat next, and it went over her head and shift. Dressing was such a tedious job sometimes.

  Her maid then tied the pockets around her waist, taking the time to knot them and pin them the way Faith had instructed. It took several minutes to then wrap the stays around her and lace them up the back. She must have sensed Faith’s hurry because she had the next two petticoats ready in an instant. Over that, she began to pin the stomacher to her stays and had the open robe gown draped over her arm, ready for the next step. Helping Faith ease her arms into the gown, Marie then pulled the sides together over the stomacher and pulled more pins from her apron to attach the dress.

  “Let me fasten your shoes, ma’am, and then I will tie the gown skirts.”

  “That is fine, Marie. Thank you for being so swift.”

  Her maid buckled her shoes and then tied the ribbons of the skirts to create the polonaise puff. She circled around Faith and tucked here and there. “I think everything is in order. Let me grab your apron.”

  The beautiful—but completely useless—white apron was thin enough to see through, but was expected for someone of her status. Faith looked forward to the day when simpler clothing could be worn, but for now, she had to continue to dress the part of the wealthy widow that she was. She could do nothing different that would betray Patriot leanings to Loyalists. But if God needed to use her fortune to help see to the freedom of the Colonies, then so be it. She was fine with that. If only she could wear the simpler dress—like Marie.

  This whole social status and extravagance wore on her day in and day out. But she would be thankful. She would. The good Lord had seen fit to bless her with it, and she would use it for His glory.

  Marie dressed her hair a bit backward from normal, but Faith had been in a hurry and her maid obviously picked up on her eagerness to be about as soon as possible.

  “Something simple is perfectly fine for today. I’m sure you can cover it up with my day cap anyway.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Within a matter of minutes, Marie was done and stepped back. With a curtsy, she nodded.

  “Thank you, Marie.”

  “I will be downstairs if you need anything else.” Her maid made a swift exit, and Faith wasn’t far behind.

  Fully intending to take the carriage into town and see what she could find out, she found herself brought to an abrupt halt at the top of the stairs.

  Clayton’s face frowned down at her.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is there anything you need to tell me, Clayton? If not, I really must be going.”

  “Mr. Jameson is in the parlor awaiting you, ma’am.”

  Letting her shoulders droop, she threw her head back and looked at the ceiling. Would the man never leave her be? An idea took root. “Please sneak back and ask Hobbs to get my carriage ready at the back door. You may then go to the parlor and serve Mr. Jameson some tea or whatever other refreshment he might want and inform him that I am unavailable at the moment—which I am not, so it is not a lie. Then tell him you will come check on me and see how long it will take. By then I will be gone, and you can let him know that one of the other servants informed you that I left on an urgent errand.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Clayton’s lips lifted in the slightest of smiles—which for him was quite something. “I will enjoy this.”

  “Good. I am most glad and grateful for your help.” S
he smiled back at him. “It’s almost like we are in a conspiracy together, isn’t it?”

  “Quite, Mrs. Jackson. One I am glad to be a part of. Very glad.”

  Faith pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh aloud. “I must admit, I admire this side of you, Clayton. I hope we can do more of this in the future.”

  “Anything for you, ma’am.” He bowed and turned to go back down the stairs.

  She shook her head. Who knew? After all these years, it was refreshing to see a different side of her most beloved butler. And it was perfect timing to find it out.

  Now she was certain that he would aid her in any of the activities she might need to do.

  She just might enjoy being a spy after all.

  Thursday, April 20, 1775

  Perth Amboy, New Jersey

  The roaring fire in the fireplace couldn’t ease the chill in Matthew’s bones. He’d been in New Jersey for several days meeting with Loyalists that William Franklin wanted him to see. For hours, he’d tried to get any word that he could about the troops that headed into Boston but to no avail. Then he’d been summoned to William’s home. Hopefully he had some news.

  William strode into the room purposefully—his face stern. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Matthew.”

  “Of course. How may I be of assistance?”

  The chair behind the desk creaked as William took a seat. “Somehow our troops have failed.”

  “What?!” While he put his best effort into appearing shocked and angry, Matthew couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.

  “The so-called minutemen—those untrained Patriot ruffians—knew we were coming. I don’t know how. But they knew. We won a small skirmish in Lexington and then marched to Concord. Even though we were able to find their weapons and destroy some of them, those colonists overtook us at North Bridge.” William sighed and shook his head. “Our men retreated to Boston and suffered several casualties along the way.”

  “What does this mean for us?” Matthew stood like he was upset.

  “It means that the war has begun.” William looked up at him, his face indecipherable. “And we did not win the first battle.”

  Later that afternoon, Matthew sat in a carriage and went over everything William had said during their meeting. It was a long ride back to Boston, and he doubted he’d be able to sleep as they raced down the rough road.

  The fighting had begun. But at least the colonists had held their own. That didn’t mean they’d be able to handle future battles, but maybe the Brits would realize they couldn’t just come marching in and win every fight. They had a real opponent.

  Not that Matthew even wanted to think about how many might be killed.

  So far, William appeared to believe the story of Matthew’s switch over to the Loyalist side. He’d brought him into deeper confidence and relied on him. Which was good for the cause. But also made things a lot more dangerous.

  The recurring thought that kept pounding his brain though was of Faith. Was she safe? Was she all right?

  After their last meeting, he feared she might not even speak to him next time they met. And he deserved it. He was supposed to meet her tomorrow, but that was only if he could be back in time. His driver knew that time was of the essence, but would the horses hold out?

  Exhaustion seeped into every inch of his being. He needed—wanted—to sleep. It’d been too long already. But he couldn’t stop thinking about Faith.

  He had to make things right.

  With new resolve, Matthew thought about what he would say to her—if she showed up.

  The only consolation he had was that Faith’s personality was one that never gave up.

  He prayed that she hadn’t given up on her commitment…or on him.

  The snow was deeper outside the meetinghouse this time, but at least the same door was unlocked. As soon as Faith arrived, Matthew would offer to go inside out of the cold. At least he’d made it in time. Every bone and muscle in his body ached from the long journey.

  The moon above was covered in clouds. Too bad he didn’t have a candle with him. He wouldn’t be able to see Faith’s face very well.

  Her soft footfalls—now familiar to him—sounded to his right.

  When she appeared, she didn’t say anything. Just stopped in front of him and held out a packet.

  “Faith?”

  She shook her head. “I need to give you this. Do you have anything for me?”

  He took it and then pulled several notes from his coat and handed them to her. “Please. Would you step inside with me for a moment?”

  “I do not think that is a good idea.” She turned as if to go.

  “Faith, please. I need to apologize.”

  Her shoulders rose and then fell. “All right.”

  In silence they entered the building and walked to the same pew they’d sat in last time. The air around them was stale. Just like their relationship.

  She sat with her hands folded in her lap. Rigid. Unwelcoming.

  He’d done that. Wiping a hand down his face, he released a long sigh. “Faith, I am deeply sorry for my behavior last time.”

  She simply watched him.

  Obviously not going to make it easy on him. “I allowed my fear to rule my mind and my heart. I was so worried about what might happen to you that I slammed the door of my heart and I am afraid it hurt you.”

  “Slammed the door of your heart?” She tilted her head.

  He wasn’t a wordsmith, a man of poetry, or really anything else relating to how to woo a woman. Of course she would question his words. How did he get out of this one? “What I meant was that I had begun to care for you and looked forward to nothing more than seeing you again. But when the reality of the dangers hit me, I feared I had made a grave mistake.”

  “It did hurt me.” She lifted her chin, paused, and then gave him a slight smile. “But that does not mean you cannot be forgiven.”

  Her words gave him hope. He inched toward her on the pew, still keeping an appropriate distance—or at least a small amount of space—between them, but he longed to gaze into her eyes and the light was so dim. “I am very sorry, Faith. Will you please forgive me?”

  “Of course, I will forgive you.” She shook her head. “Men can be so difficult sometimes.”

  He frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Most men think that females are weak and emotional and incapable of handling anything of a weighty nature. Men also think that things have to be much more complicated than they actually are.”

  He hadn’t given her enough credit. “I am afraid you are correct.”

  “Well, let us just get that out of the way right now, shall we?” She raised that one eyebrow in a very becoming way. “I am capable of handling the truth, Matthew. Plain and simple. I simply want the truth. So if you care about me, I expect you to tell me. Neither one of us is young anymore. We both know our minds. We both know the dangers and risks. We are at war in America now. Just be honest with me.” She gave a little huff, and he watched her shoulders relax a bit.

  “All right then. I freely admit that I would like to get to know you better, Faith Lytton Jackson. But I cannot say that I will not be concerned for your well-being…or afraid that George will skin me alive if anything happens to you.” He couldn’t help but smile at her.

  She scooted her small frame closer to him. “I would not expect anything less. And I would like to get to know you better as well.”

  That feeling was back—like the air around them was alive and sparking with…something he couldn’t put into words.

  She tilted her head again. “So where do we begin from here? Do you have any questions for me?”

  His mind spun in a million different directions. There was so much he wanted to know—everything about her. He laughed. “Well, there is something I have been wanting to ask you since our very first meeting all those months ago….”

  “Go ahead. What is it?”

  “When you first came, I heard your
footsteps in the snow. They were very quiet, but I had been waiting in the silence and heard every sound.” He paused and smiled at her.

  “I do not believe I heard a question in there.” Her brow furrowed like she was trying to figure out a puzzle.

  “You hesitated that night. And then you let out a tiny breath. I have been most curious why. Did you second-guess yourself? Did you see something?”

  Bell-like laughter echoed through the meetinghouse. She covered her mouth to stop the sound, but her shoulders continued to shake. The clouds moved for a brief second, and silvery moonlight shone through the window, making her eyes sparkle. He saw her merriment.

  “Whatever is so funny?”

  She put a hand to her chest and composed herself, but the smile didn’t leave her face. “I did not hear anything, and no, I was not about to back out.”

  “What happened then?”

  “I got snow in my shoe, silly, and it was quite cold. I huffed at myself for not being more careful and realized I would simply have to endure a wet foot.”

  Her spunk really was quite amazing and endearing. Of course she wasn’t afraid. This was Faith. George Washington’s braver-than-ten-men Faith. He shook his head and they laughed together.

  Watching him listen to her talk about how she got the melted snow out of her shoe after their meeting, Faith realized that she cared quite deeply for Matthew Weber. In the midst of the tough times around them, they were able to share in some much-needed laughter, and just like the Bible said, it was good medicine.

  His face turned a bit more serious. “Were you all right? When the British came through?”

  “Yes. Although the knock on the door in the middle of the night to inform of Paul Revere’s news kept me from more sleep.”

  “But your home? It is in a safe area?”

  “Yes, quite. Clayton has barred all the windows and keeps the doors locked, but I assure you, we are quite safe. The skirmishes were many miles from my home.”

  It was his turn to put a hand to his chest. “That is a relief. I cannot begin to tell you how worried I was for your safety when I heard. But I fear it will only get worse. The Brits want to take firm hold of the city of Boston. They believe they already do.”