The Patriot Bride

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  “We are quite safe, I promise. Besides, I am very useful in Boston. Our ladies are accomplishing a lot. And you are here. I want to stay as long as I am needed.”

  Matthew looked out the window toward the moon. “It is getting quite late.” He gave her a long look. “Promise me you will stay safe.”

  Her heart fluttered at the intensity of his gaze. “I promise. But I am not afraid.”

  “Well, I am afraid I have kept you far too long.” He stood. “My apologies.”

  She stood as well. “Our time together has been quite enjoyable, and I look forward to seeing you on Sunday.”

  “Until then.” He bowed. “I will go outside first and make sure that there isn’t anyone around.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  He left her side and went out the door. Several seconds later, his silhouette appeared and she heard him whisper, “It is safe.”

  For several moments, she stood inside the building and thought about all that had transpired. He cared for her. The thought made her heart race.

  As she made her way through the streets back to the corner where her carriage awaited, Faith couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps love came to old widows as well.

  When she arrived home, it was quite late, but Faith couldn’t even think about going to sleep. She asked Marie to help her out of her gown and then to bring her a cup of hot tea. Perhaps she should write to George.

  So many things ran through her mind. First and foremost was Matthew. Then there was the fighting that had begun. What would happen next? She also longed to go see her family in Plymouth, but the thought made her quite nervous. She needed George’s advice on it all.

  Mind made up, she sat down with paper, ink, and her quill:

  April 21, 1775

  Dear George,

  I find myself in need of your advice once again. Since you are not here in person, which you know I prefer when I discuss my thoughts, I figured to write you a letter.

  My list will be quite long, so please feel free to respond when you have time to truly think it all through. That being stated, I will anxiously await your reply because you remember my lack of patience. My poor mother always told me I tried her patience and that was her Christian name!

  I believe I can hear your voice in my head, and you are telling me to get to the matters at hand.

  First, I would like to discuss with you the suggestion you have made several times: me going to Plymouth and trying to reconnect with the Lytton family. Our mutual friend has also informed me that his sister lives in Plymouth and knows some Lyttons. While the thought of reconnecting with my family is wonderful and exciting, it also makes me very nervous. I do not know these people. What if I am not good enough? The loss of Mother and Father was quite a blow to them, I am sure. What is your advice for me in this matter? Is it safe in Plymouth? Do the British have troops there? Or do you think I am making excuses for why I should not go?

  Second on my list of questions needing your infinite wisdom is about the fighting…dare I say war? I will continue to stay in Boston, where I promise I do feel quite safe right now, but nevertheless, I am worried about others. Families and such. And the servants. Should I release them to go home? Should I instruct my ladies’ group to evacuate to a safer location? Do you think the war will continue to grow? These are the things that keep my mind spinning at night. Yes, I hear your advice: drink a cup of tea and go to bed. But I will still await your word on this matter as well.

  Third, well…I am hesitant and do not even know where to begin. It was actually the thing most prominent in my mind, but I was nervous about discussing it with you and had to get up the nerve. You know me well, so you know exactly how I am feeling at this moment. If you were here, I would pace the room and chatter on about the subject while you graciously listened and propped your feet by the fire. Yes, I hear your voice again: get on with it.

  Here it is: I believe I am beginning to care a good deal about our mutual friend. I know you are well acquainted with him and have known him many, many years. You once told me that he was an old friend. What do you think? Would he be a good match for me? I know you and Martha have wanted me to remarry and settle down for some time, but you also know that no one has interested me. That is, until I met him.

  I am seeking your honest opinion and advice in this matter. I will respect your wishes if you will only grant me the true response from your heart. You have always looked out for my best interest, and I trust you with this. I have prayed much over all of these items, but especially about our friend.

  Please give Martha my love and reply as soon as you are able.

  Faith

  As much as Matthew loved seeing the colonial troops camping around Boston, the level of danger for him had just increased exponentially.

  Word had come that the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts had ordered more than ten thousand troops to mobilize and head to Boston. Colonial volunteers from all over New England were now camped around the city.

  The siege on Boston was good for the Patriots. But as a spy for the Patriots, posing as a Loyalist, he was now in danger from both sides.

  If Patriot soldiers grabbed him, he couldn’t give away his cover. He would probably be imprisoned and beaten.

  If the Loyalists found out he was actually a spy…Well, they would probably tar and feather him—or possibly even kill him.

  Either way, he was going to have to be more careful.

  That meant he’d have to make sure Faith was aware of all that was going on as well. Neither of them could risk getting caught.

  As he headed to the new designated meeting location, he realized he would have to suggest that they rotate amongst the three each time they met. He and Faith could be the only ones aware of where the handoffs were taking place.

  The thought of putting her in danger made his heart ache. But she was the only way he could feed the Patriots information and the only way instructions got back to him. Everything hinged on the brave widow from Boston.

  Especially his heart.

  They’d met many times over the past few months. But now they saw one another every other day. It was wonderful. And not enough.

  He wanted to see her every day. But he couldn’t be so selfish. He shouldn’t even be thinking about pursuing a relationship with the beautiful Mrs. Jackson. Now was not the time. Nor the place.

  They were at war.

  But then…would there ever be a good time? Hadn’t God put them together for such a time as this?

  His mind went to the book of Esther—where those words had first been written. Esther had been placed in the King’s palace in the midst of very tumultuous times. And God had used it for His glory.

  Could He use Matthew and Faith together?

  He shook his head. Of course God could do that, but how selfish could Matthew be? All these years, he’d never fallen in love. Even though his mentor—good ol’ Ben—had fallen in love at seventeen and loved Deborah all his life and tried to convince Matthew on numerous occasions that he should settle down and start a family. It had never happened. There had never even been a spark other than boyhood attractions. Until now. During the most dangerous time of his life.

  It couldn’t have happened when things were calm and quiet. No. It had to happen while he was a spy. And America was at war.

  The heaviness weighed him down. But the thought of seeing Faith lifted his spirits.

  What a mess! To be so excited to see her and feel horrible about placing her in danger all at the same time.

  When he rounded the corner, he spotted her with her basket, her shawl covering her head. He gave her a nod, and they headed into the barn together.

  “Oh, Matthew, it’s so good to see you are well.” Relief gleamed in her eyes.

  “And I you.” He moved closer to her and wanted to drink in those green eyes. Her face was framed by her dark blond curls. He closed his eyes and tried to memorize the ways her eyes smiled at him, the lines of her face.

  “What a
re you doing?”

  He opened his eyes and chuckled. “Just wanting to remember this moment.”

  “That is sweet of you to say.” She tilted her head and pursed her lips—a look that was becoming quite endearing to him. “But something is bothering you.”

  “Come. Please. Let us sit together for a moment.” He took her hand and led her over to the hay bales. When she had settled herself, he took a deep breath. “I just want to make sure you are aware of all that is happening around us.”

  “Of course. Go on.” Her brow scrunched when she was serious about a topic. It was adorable.

  Matthew shook his head again. Focus. He needed focus. “Two days ago, the Provincial Congress of Massachusetts ordered for thirteen thousand soldiers to be mobilized.” As he filled her in on every detail he had, she nodded several times.

  With a sigh, she touched his hand. “That puts us in a different place, does it not?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The level of danger has increased—especially for you, Matthew. While this information actually makes me feel a bit more safe in my own city, I cannot imagine what this is going to entail for you and your safety.”

  “I am more concerned for you, Faith.”

  She sat up a little taller and raised her eyebrows at him. “Honestly, Matthew. You and George are all worried about me when it is the two of you who will have your lives on the line.”

  That information was new. “Has George been asked to command?”

  “Not yet. But you and I both know that it is coming. And he does as well, I am sure.”

  “But that still does not mean that you should take this lightly. I am quite worried for your well-being, and I think we need to plan accordingly.”

  Faith cocked just one eyebrow at him this time. She may be small in stature, but her looks could level a man. “I am taking this seriously, Mr. Weber. But you need to please have the courtesy to remember that I am good at this. I am just a messenger. And I will be very careful.”

  Friday, May 5, 1775

  Lifting the knocker on Mrs. Jackson’s door, Anthony was disappointed that Clayton hadn’t opened it upon his arrival. Was the man slacking in his duties? He’d been spoiled by the man’s astute attention to detail.

  A clicking noise sounded. Ah…so that was it. They’d kept the door locked. Probably because of the skirmishes of late. Good, good. That explained it. At least the servant was keeping his mistress safe. That was excusable.

  The door opened about a foot. Clayton frowned at him. “How may I help you, Mr. Jameson?”

  “I have an appointment with Mrs. Jackson.”

  The butler’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Yes. I sent her a letter last week, and she responded quite rapidly, I might add.” He pasted on his best smile. It appeared he’d have to win over the butler before he could win over the lady of the house.

  Faith’s voice echoed from behind Clayton. Anthony didn’t understand the words, but in the next moment, the door opened and he was admitted. Finally.

  Clayton took his hat and gloves and led him into the parlor. “Mr. Jameson, ma’am.” He bowed and exited.

  Anthony took a moment to offer a deep bow of his own. “Mrs. Jackson, you look lovely today.”

  Rather than offering him a chair or even sitting herself, she stood in front of the empty fireplace with her hands clasped in front of her. “I have a rather full schedule, Mr. Jameson, so what is it that you would like to discuss?”

  “I was hoping we would have a bit more time. Since after all, you did invite me.” He used his smoothest and calmest tone. Like he did with his dog when she got feisty. Appealing to Mrs. Jackson’s sense of social etiquette should help her to relax a bit.

  “Mr. Jameson, while I quite apologize if I led you to believe something different, we are in the midst of a war, and I have things to do.” Agitation was etched all over her face.

  Not the best way to gain her attention. Anthony gave her a full smile and sighed. “Yes, the war. You are helping the poor souls who are displaced, are you not?”

  “Mr. Jameson, I appreciate your wish to create ease of conversation, but as I stated before, I am quite busy. Was the purpose of your letter simply to get together and visit?”

  The lady was not at all like the submissive and quiet women with whom he was accustomed. But he admired her spirit. He tried another tactic. “I would never wish to waste your valuable time, ma’am. I am merely here to speak with you about how I may be of service. You see, I would like to help.”

  “Help?”

  “Yes. I would like to help you save people. Together we can be the backbone for the Colonies.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Together? Backbone?”

  “My fine lady, I am sure you have noticed my attention all these months, and I appreciate that you have wished to follow the rules of propriety. But certainly you see that enough time has passed. We are both mature adults who know our own minds. I envision us working quite well together to aid this great cause.”

  She blinked in rapid succession, which he took as permission to continue. While he had her undivided attention, he might as well get to the point.

  “I have been buying up property for some time now and have created quite a small empire for myself. Estates and land…Well, you are aware that many have suffered and struggled for some time with the taxes and lack of supplies because of the boycotts. I have helped a great many families by paying them substantial amounts for their property.”

  She had her hands on her hips now. An unusual posture for a lady. “Helped?” Her voice sounded almost like a squeak.

  Anthony puffed out his chest. “I see you are impressed with my help to the cause. You see, I believe with your fortune combined with my own sizable one, we can assist a great many more. Think of all the good we could do. We can be the foundation for this new era. Possibly this new government the Patriots seek to create. With you by my side—”

  “I need to ask you to stop right there, Mr. Jameson.” She lifted a hand from her waist and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  She must be overcome with emotion as she understood what he was proposing. There was no need to tell her of his deep debt from all those purchases, her coffers would cover that and more. He paused and allowed her a moment. He smiled as he waited for her response.

  “Mr. Jameson. I hardly know you. And while I am certain you are a well-bred gentleman, who would strike the fancy of…some wonderful lady, somewhere, I am not that woman. I must ask you to leave now.” She moved from her spot by the fire. “Clayton!”

  The butler appeared in an instant.

  “Please escort Mr. Jameson outside.” She turned back to Anthony. “Thank you for your visit, but I am afraid it has come to an end. There will be no further invitations from this house. Thank you.” She gave him a look that almost bordered on angry.

  What had he done to invoke such a response?

  Before he could do anything to stop it, Clayton was ushering him out the door. The butler didn’t even help him, he just handed Anthony his things and shut the door.

  And locked it.

  He narrowed his eyes. That did not go as planned.

  Anthony’s driver looked at him.

  Walking down the steps of the Jackson home, he straightened his waistcoat and lifted his chin. “We have many errands today. Let us get on with it.”

  After he’d climbed into the carriage, he thought about Mrs. Jackson’s words. She was just nervous. Confident she would come around, he allowed himself to smile. It wouldn’t be long now.

  She stood at the bottom of the stairs and shook. The nerve of that man!

  “Madam?” Clayton’s voice was soft behind her. “May I get you anything? Perhaps you would like to sit for a few moments?”

  “Is he gone?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And the door is locked?”

  “Quite soundly.”

  She closed her eyes for a second. “Perhaps a cup of tea would be go
od. I am quite upset from that…that man.” She wanted to spit his name or, even better, punch him and wipe the smug smile off his face. She’d had plenty of practice when she was younger, and she knew she could knock the man off his feet if necessary. She should probably ask forgiveness for such horrid thoughts, but it was the truth. Even if ladies weren’t supposed to go around punching gentlemen in the face.

  Putting a hand to her forehead, Faith prayed. Lord, please keep that man away from me so I don’t resort to violence. You know it’s for his sake and not mine.

  Even as riled as she was, she had to admit that his oily demeanor made her skin crawl. She would go so far as to say that it struck a chord of fear within her. What would the ladies say if they knew what the man had come to say today?

  Clayton appeared at her side. “Let us go into the parlor, ma’am. Sylvia is preparing you some tea.”

  His gentle hand behind her back led her like she was a small child. Once she sat in the chair, he hovered over her. “Would you like me to call for Mrs. White? Or perhaps all of the ladies?”

  Faith looked down at her hands. They were white from being clenched into balled fists. And they shook. She took a deep breath. “I think you better, Clayton. It will take them a bit to get here, and after I have had some tea and a chance to calm down, I will need them here to help me decide the best way to proceed.”

  “Good, good.” Clayton headed out of the parlor, and Faith was sure she’d see the women begin to arrive within the hour.

  Sylvia brought in a serving tray with a pot of tea and a cup and saucer. Her favorite china to boot. Her staff knew her well. After several sips, she felt her racing heart calm to a normal rhythm. It was then that she dissected Anthony’s words.

  The man had had nothing to do with the Patriot cause before now. If he had, she would have known about it. She also knew from one of his first visits last year that he had boasted about his close relationship with King George. So how could a man that was granted land from the King of England now say that he was loyal to her cause—that of the Patriots. What did the man know?