She might not marry Seth, but she would never marry a stranger. If Seth and Father couldn’t reconcile, there would be no wedding for her. And no marriage.
She leaned her head back against the bare wood, the sun warming her face through the window. As her eyelids began to droop, she propped up her chin with her hands. She would rest here for a few moments, just in case he awoke.
No matter what happened, she wouldn’t regret what she’d done.
A loud bang jolted Nathan from his sleep. His eyes flew open and he scanned the surroundings.
There was a small fireplace to his right, bare wood walls, a basin by the window. Sitting beside him was a young woman, her eyes on the door. And there was another lady, a middle-aged woman, wearing a gray housedress and a white cap. Her breath came in heaves as she shut the door. “You must leave, Miss Lydia.”
The woman beside him—Miss Lydia—hopped to her feet. “Are they home?”
The woman by the door nodded. “They’re scouring the house for you.”
His head pounding, he closed his eyes.
Where was he?
Until he knew whether he was in a safe place, he’d feign sleep.
“Viney will tell them she fed me,” Lydia said.
“She told Lady Caswell you took your soup bowl with you.”
The younger woman groaned.
“Elisha or I will check back on him. You must stay away from here.”
He heard the shuffling of feet and then the shutting of the door. The room grew silent, leaving him alone in a room filled with the oddest mix of smells—chicken soup and horse manure and—he sniffed again—the faintest scent of flowers.
Opening his eyes, he clutched his fists and then curled his toes. His left foot and calf burned, but thank God, he was still alive. He never thought he’d survive the initial impact of the water, and certainly not the temperature of it. But it was much better to die in the river than at the hands of the British.
He shivered under the blankets. He might be forced into acts of valor for the sake of his country, but in his heart there was little courage.
He remembered hitting the icy water off the side of the Defiance, but the memories after the plunge were blurry. He’d been cold, colder than he’d ever been in his life, and he’d struggled for air even as his lungs froze within him. Death seemed imminent. It was time, he’d thought, to meet his Savior.
The next thing he remembered was a woman’s voice.
He looked at the beveled glass on the window. Perhaps it was the same woman who had been sitting beside him moments ago.
He tried to push himself up on his elbows, but there was no strength left within him.
How long had he been in this room?
His pulse raced. After taking that fall, it was a miracle he was still here. The British, he hoped, thought he had perished in the river.
Now he must deliver his message before it was too late.
Chapter Five
A dozen people crowded into Mrs. Hester Zeigler’s formal parlor. The narrow room was papered with a pale red-and-white-striped design from London and smelled like cinnamon and cloves. Most people stood, conversing pleasantly with one another about the weather and such, but Sarah waited for the dinner meal on the settee, her leather-bound copy of Gulliver’s Travels clutched in her lap. She always brought a book to these weekly meals, and this one was a particular favorite among Tories.
While she tolerated Mrs. Zeigler’s company, she disliked these weekly Sunday gatherings immensely. Sarah suspected the woman invited her after services because she entertained notions of a future with Commodore Hammond when he returned from the West Indies.
The late Mr. Zeigler had been a good friend of Lord Dunmore’s before the governor abandoned the palace and the town. Even as the political tide in Williamsburg shifted to support the Patriots, Mrs. Zeigler remained influential as a hostess and organizer of women. It seemed that everyone in Williamsburg, of either political persuasion, wanted to be included on the list when she held a party at her fine house. Lord Dunmore attended her gatherings when he was governor, and Governor Thomas Jefferson and his wife attended them until last year, when the colony moved the capital and the governor from Williamsburg to Richmond.
Lately, Mrs. Zeigler seemed to entertain only those who supported the King’s Men, and now it appeared she wanted to marry one again as well.
Even though Sarah could never imagine her father married to the widow Zeigler, it was most important for Sarah to spend time among the British sympathizers. So she attended these dinners each week without fail.
While Morah helped the other maids in the kitchen each Sunday, Sarah endured all sorts of meaningless talk from people who thought her father had lost his mind. No decent man, Mrs. Houser once said, would leave his daughter in charge of four thousand acres—as if Sarah would single-handedly ruin all her father and grandfather had built. She knew they doubted her ability, and even worse, she doubted it herself.
No one seemed to be whispering about her this afternoon. Information had begun to trickle in about the Continental Army fighting against the British occupancy in Charles Towne. Sarah listened intently—and silently—to Mr. Pendell, a professor at the College of William & Mary, as he shared the information he’d gleaned.
“I heard they were trying to take back South Carolina,” he said.
Mrs. Pendell fanned her face. “At least Washington’s men aren’t here.”
The town doctor—Dr. Cooper—stepped forward, a black hat secured in his hands. “I wouldn’t be so certain. I’ve heard Washington and his men might be leaving New York.”
Mr. Houser put his hand on the edge of the settee, leaning toward the others in their discussion. “It is about time our men showed the rebels in Virginia that the king is serious.”
Dr. Cooper lifted his glass. “Long live King George.”
“Hush,” one of the women said, nodding toward the kitchen. “Not all the ears are sympathetic.”
All the people in the room were Tories, also known as Loyalists. Or at least they claimed to be. It was impossible to know who was stalwart in their convictions and who would turn if Patriots took the town. With her father off fighting with the King’s Men and her brother fighting against them, the people of Williamsburg weren’t quite sure what to think about Sarah.
She never offered her opinion, and Mr. Pendell’s wife offered hers sparingly. It was best for both of them to remain as indifferent as possible to this war.
“My dear Sarah,” Mrs. Pendell said, both her arms outstretched as she approached her. She was a large woman who laughed easily and loved books almost as much as Sarah did.
After embracing Sarah, Mrs. Pendell handed over The Old English Baron, a novel she’d borrowed from Sarah’s library three weeks ago.
“Did you enjoy it?” Sarah asked, perhaps a bit too loudly.
“Very much,” Mrs. Pendell replied, eyeing the book in Sarah’s lap. “Have you brought me something else to read this week?”
Sarah handed her Gulliver’s Travels. “I fear you won’t find much of interest in this one.”
“Perhaps next week,” Mrs. Pendell said before she tucked the book under her arm and turned to greet another guest.
Everyone in Williamsburg seemed to know the Pendells, but Sarah hadn’t known Mrs. Pendell well until a year ago, when Seth informed Sarah that she and Mrs. Pendell were destined to become close friends. Thankfully she enjoyed the woman’s company, and Mrs. Pendell seemed to enjoy hers.
“Did you hear what happened to Benedict Arnold?” Dr. Cooper asked. When no one replied, he continued. “He was feeding information to the British, and when he was discovered, he ran off to the British army. Now he’s an officer.”
“I care not if a traitor is for the British or the rebels,” Mr. Pendell declared. “Any traitor should be hanged.”
Sarah swallowed and glanced up at Mrs. Pendell in spite of herself. The woman’s smile remained frozen as she nodded in earnest beside her hu
sband.
They might have to rely on deception to do their work, but they were helping deliver information to those who needed it. Information that would save lives, Sarah reminded herself. Besides, they were only conduits, so the British wouldn’t discover who among them was gathering information for the Patriots. Sarah didn’t even know what the letters contained, nor to whom Mrs. Pendell delivered, but she was ready to assist in the fight for freedom however she was needed.
Sunshine poured through the dining-room windows, across the long white-cloaked table, as her father studied Lydia’s face. His powdered wig, which he still wore from church that morning, matched the color of the tablecloth, and he looked as distinguished as any member of the House of Burgesses. Father lifted his silver goblet and took a long sip of his Madeira wine before he spoke. “You have made quite a speedy recovery.”
She pushed a bite of salted ham with her fork, mixing the ham with her sweet potatoes. “Aye.”
He tilted his head, and the beads of sweat on his brow glistened in the light. “Dr. Cooper would be amazed.”
“I did not sleep well last night,” she said. “The fatigue overpowered me.”
“Perhaps you should have remained in bed all day.”
Lydia glanced across the table at her mother, who was sitting with perfect posture to Father’s right. Mother dabbed the edges of her lips with her napkin before she spoke. “There is no reason to interrogate her, my dear. We should just be grateful to the Good Lord that she is well again.”
Hannah raised her glass and winked at her. “Hear, hear.”
Lydia clenched her heavy silver fork. When she’d hurried back from Elisha’s room, she had seen Hannah’s face in an upstairs window of the manor house. And she’d seen her sister lift her hand in a mock greeting. She knew she must protect this stranger, but she hated being trapped inside this cauldron of deception. Even more, she hated that her sister knew she had been outside the house instead of in the library. If Hannah managed to keep her secret, she would make Lydia pay dearly for it.
Father cut a piece of ham and lifted it. “Your mother said you had fallen asleep.”
Mother nodded. “She was curled up on the chaise lounge.”
“But I checked the library prior to—”
Mother patted his hand. “You have been preoccupied, Charles.”
Beside her, Hannah straightened the flatware by her plate. “A chair is a most unusual place to sleep.”
Lydia shrugged. “I was tired.”
Hannah smiled. “But apparently not tired enough to—”
Prudence stepped into the room, holding up a platter. “We have ginger pudding and macaroons for dessert.”
Mother glanced over her shoulder, surprised. None of the servants ever announced the food. “Thank you, Prudence.”
Prudence set the platter on the sideboard and turned to place a silver bowl in front of Mother. “I know the pudding is your favorite, ma’am.”
“Indeed it is.”
Lydia flashed a smile at the maidservant for redirecting Father. Prudence had been with their family for so many years, Father would forgive her indiscretion.
Mother sampled the pudding. “Please tell Viney that it is splendid.”
Prudence nodded. “Aye.”
Father cleared his throat. “I have news.”
Lydia sighed quietly, relieved that he had moved past the questioning about her time in the library.
Hannah lifted her spoon as Prudence put a bowl in front of her. “Do tell.”
“I received a letter from Solomon Reed. His son has been commissioned a major in the British army.”
Mother took a macaroon from the proffered plate. “What an extraordinary opportunity for him.”
Lydia wasn’t certain how extraordinary it was, considering that most British officers had to pay for such an honor, but there was no good reason to provoke Father.
“Who is Solomon Reed?” Hannah asked.
“An old friend from London.” Father looked at Lydia. “You must remember him.”
“I am afraid I do not.”
Father sighed. “I suppose you were too young to recall everyone you met there.”
They’d visited London when Lydia was twelve. Hannah would have been two. Lydia remembered the parks in London, the great river called Thames, and the older woman whom she was supposed to call Grandmother. The faintest memory remained of her parents’ friends, but she didn’t remember their names.
Prudence set the tray of macaroons in front of Father, but he didn’t even look down at it. “According to Solomon, Major Reed has arrived in the colonies. If I’m able to find him, perhaps we can invite him here for a visit.”
Mother reached for a second macaroon. “What a splendid idea.”
Hannah smiled, her blue eyes sparkling. “I am sure he will be most interesting company.”
Father looked at her. “You seem to find every bachelor interesting.”
“That is because there are so few of them, Father.”
Father glanced at Lydia. “I am hoping you might find him interesting as well. Solomon’s son would be a fine match.”
“Indeed,” Mother replied.
Lydia’s eyes grew wide. It was one thing for her father to speak in general terms about her marrying a British man. It was quite another for him to pursue a specific man for her marriage. “You do not know what type of match he would be.”
Hannah leaned forward. “Any Englishman would be more suitable than Seth.”
Father’s eyes narrowed. “You will not speak of that man at my table!”
“But Lydia is planning to marry—”
“Hannah,” Mother interrupted, “your father said not to talk about him.”
Hannah looked at Lydia from across the table and sniffed. “There are other things to talk about, I suppose.”
She knew well that look in her sister’s eyes. She was about to spill the news about seeing Lydia outside.
“There most certainly are other things to discuss,” Lydia said as she turned toward Father. There was so much she wanted to ask, like who Arnold was, but then he would inquire about where she’d heard the name and she could not tell him. It was better to steer him in a different direction, one that would trump anything Hannah said. “Did you see the ships going upriver last night?”
He leaned so far forward that the white lawn material of his cravat brushed across the pudding. “What ships?” he demanded.
“The ones with British flags.”
His spoon clattered onto the table. “Why did you not tell me?”
“I did not want to disturb you.”
“You should have—”
“At least you know now,” Mother said as she wiped the pale orange streak of pudding off his cravat. “There is no reason to badger.”
Father sat back against the wooden chair and a slow smile washed across his lips. “The British are in Virginia.”
“It appears so,” Lydia replied.
“Where do you think they are going?” Mother asked.
Father lifted his wine again. “They must be sailing to Richmond.”
Mother put her napkin beside her plate. “Excellent news for us.”
“Indeed.” Father pushed back his chair and stood. Hannah left the room behind him.
Mother remained beside her at the table. “Viney said she’s missing the soup bowl you used earlier.”
Lydia’s spine stiffened. She had rushed away so quickly from the coach house that she’d left the bowl on the basin. “I shall retrieve it for her.”
Mother studied her face. “What are you hiding, Lydia?”
She hesitated. It was one thing to mislead her sister and Father, but she could never lie to her mother. Unlike Hannah, Mother knew how to keep a secret, but Lydia didn’t want to pull her into the deception, not until she knew whether this stranger they were harboring was loyal to the Crown.
“Helping,” she whispered, hoping her mother wouldn’t pry further.
Mo
ther sighed. “I do not suppose you’re feeding a wounded animal, are you?”
Lydia shook her head.
“Then ’tis probably unwise for me to ask questions,” Mother said, tempering her inquiry.
“Probably.”
“Have you heard from Seth?”
She shook her head. “But I would like to go visit Sarah.”
“We cannot go visit,” Mother said. “Not now.”
“Sarah does not feel the same way as Seth.”
“’Tis not wise,” Mother insisted. “It would look like—”
“Like we are loving our neighbor,” Lydia said.
“I wish it were not so complicated.” Mother wrapped Lydia’s hand in hers. “You will be careful, my daughter.”
“I will.”
It was for the best, she supposed. A visit to her best friend would fill some of her loneliness, and she longed to hear news of Seth, but she couldn’t leave the plantation until the man sleeping in Elisha’s room was gone.
“You and I shall shop in Williamsburg soon. It will cheer you.”
“Perhaps.”
“Hopefully this Major Reed will come to Virginia. It has been too long since you have enjoyed the company of men your age.”
Lydia looked down, wiggling her toes in her wet shoes. Was it possible that this Major Reed had already arrived at Caswell Hall? Perhaps he was the man she’d been sheltering outside.
“Lydia . . .”
She looked back up.
“I am certain that Viney would like the bowl back.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Is it in the library?”
Lydia shook her head.
Mother sighed. “Please bring it back before one of the servants finds it.”
If they found the soup bowl, they would also find the man who’d eaten from it.
Before she turned, Mother eyed the damp soup stain on Lydia’s sleeve. “And you had best change your gown.”
Chapter Six
Dust covered the dresser and bedpost in her brother’s chamber. Lydia quietly closed the door behind her and looked around in the dim light. Mother had told the servants not to touch his room until he returned, as if Grayson would return on the morrow.
The Courier of Caswell Hall (American tapestries) Page 4
