The Courier of Caswell Hall (American tapestries)

by Dobson, Melanie

  Of course, they must shop without raising any suspicions about whom they were hosting at Caswell Hall. Some of their former friends still scorned her family because of Grandfather’s outspoken opposition against the rebellion. She didn’t think the rest of her family was threatened, at least not with physical harm. Father must not think it either, or he wouldn’t have let them go to town.

  “Are you ready as I am for our guest to leave the house?” Mother asked.

  Lydia nodded her head.

  “Unfortunately, I do not believe your sister shares your sentiments.”

  “That is because she does not know better,” Lydia said.

  “Only by the grace of God . . .” Mother’s voice trailed off. In less than a mile, they had neared the lane to the Hammonds’ house.

  Before the hostilities began, the Hammond and Caswell families had been not only neighbors but the best of friends, Lydia and Sarah almost inseparable as girls. When Sarah lost her mother almost twenty years ago, Lydia’s mother had stepped up to help Mr. Hammond rear his only daughter, and Sarah spent more time at Caswell Hall than she did her own home.

  But now Lydia saw Sarah only at church, and they rarely had the opportunity to speak together. Lydia knew Mother wanted to visit Sarah as well, but after Seth joined the Americans, the bond between their families crumbled.

  Lydia looked over at her mother again. “Might we stop to visit Sarah?”

  “There is much we need to do in town.” Mother hesitated. “And the major said not to linger.”

  “Just for an hour, Mother, to see how she is. She is all alone there.”

  As they drew closer to the Hammonds’ drive, Elisha slowed the team. The coach was enclosed by windows, so he couldn’t speak to them, but all Mother needed to do was open the window next to their seat and ask him to turn. If begging would work, Lydia would beg to visit Sarah, but she knew Mother wouldn’t be influenced by it.

  Mother inched open the window, and cold air whisked into the coach. Lydia waited silently as she surveyed the pond beside them. Patches of ice mixed with pools of water. It wouldn’t be long, a few weeks maybe, before it began to melt. When they were younger, she and Grayson would meet Seth and Sarah for skating. How she missed those years, when they were free to enjoy their lives without worrying about war.

  Mother cleared her throat and finally spoke. “Elisha, we would like to pay a short visit to Miss Hammond.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. Then he began humming as he turned the horses right.

  Mother glanced over at Lydia. “We will not stay long.”

  “Of course not.”

  “And we had better not tell your father.”

  Lydia nodded her head.

  They passed through the forest, and on the other side of the trees, dozens of sheep and cattle roamed the sweet-clover fields that led up to the Hammond house and the buildings surrounding it. The white plantation house overlooked the James River, and the windows were colored green by the Venetian blinds.

  Lydia missed the days of skating and dancing, and she also missed the days when she used to call on Sarah as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Sarah’s older brother. Seth had come to their house as well, almost weekly, under the guise of visiting Grayson.

  Both Sarah and Grayson accepted their role as conduits with good nature, and they played along. In those days, what seemed like a lifetime ago, she’d often wondered if Grayson might have had hopes of winning Sarah’s heart as well. Lydia never told her brother, but she’d entertained dreams of living in the Hammonds’ house with Seth and visiting Sarah and Grayson at Caswell Hall.

  As Elisha helped them step down onto the drive, Mother asked him to wait with the coach since they wouldn’t be visiting long. Elisha tied the horses to a hitching post, but before she followed her mother up the steps, Lydia whispered to him to visit with his family.

  Neither Lady Caswell nor Lydia rang the bell. Instead Sarah opened the door and engulfed Lydia in her arms. Her friend wore a pink kerchief around her neck and a creamy tan-colored gown. She was thinner than the last time Lydia had seen her, and with her pale blond hair and the yellow flecks in her green eyes, she reminded Lydia of a fairy who was more comfortable in the trees than cooped up in a house. The responsibilities her father had left for her must feel overwhelming.

  After hugging Lydia, Sarah shook Mother’s hand. “I am so glad you have come for a visit.”

  “Unfortunately, we cannot stay long,” Mother said. “We are on our way to Williamsburg to buy some supplies—”

  “You must come in first and have some—tea.”

  Lydia blinked, surprised. “You serve tea?”

  “It is not nearly as good as real tea,” Sarah said, “but I hope it will give you a little refreshment.”

  Lydia didn’t mention that they served real tea at Caswell Hall. Only those faithful to the king drank tea, but even then it was almost impossible to obtain.

  “Please come in,” Sarah repeated.

  Mother finally nodded, and Sarah motioned them toward her parlor.

  Lydia and her mother sat across from her, on the black duvet where she and Seth used to talk about uniting Hammond Plantation and Caswell Hall. Where she used to dream of a houseful of children who would roam between the two plantations. She expected sadness to flood back with the memories, but all she felt was emptiness.

  Lydia gave the slightest shake of her head as if it could erase the memories. She leaned forward. “How are you?”

  Sarah’s smile fell. “I was fine, until someone stole our remaining horses.”

  Lydia swallowed. “How many horses did they steal?”

  “Six.”

  She shuddered at the memory of the six horses the officers brought with them when they came to Caswell Hall. She had no facts, only speculation, but that speculation frightened her.

  “I am sorry,” Lydia told her. “Truly.”

  Sarah sighed. “Many have lost so much more.”

  “It is the terrible cost of this war . . .” Lydia’s voice trailed off. She’d wanted to see Sarah yet wasn’t sure what to say to her friend whose brother and father were serving on opposing sides.

  Morah set a platter with a pot of sassafras tea, milk, and sugar cubes on the table between the women. Sarah’s maidservant was as elegant as any British gentlewoman and quite lovely with her light-brown skin and slender features.

  Morah was only about five years older than Lydia, and everyone at their plantation knew Elisha loved her. When Sarah and Lydia were younger, Morah told them she and Elisha jumped over the broom together, and the girls thought Elisha and Morah needed a real ceremony. They conspired to throw them a secret wedding until Hannah found out about it. Hannah told Father, and he immediately put an end to their plans.

  Soon after, Morah became pregnant and Father decided to sell her. It was Lady Caswell who convinced him to sell Morah to a nearby family so she and Elisha could visit on occasion. And with Morah nearby, Father probably figured Elisha would never run. Sarah had begged her father to buy Elisha as well, but Lord Caswell refused to part from his trusted driver.

  Sarah nodded toward the door. “I believe you and Alden are needed outside.”

  Morah’s brown eyes glowed. “I thank ye.”

  After she left, Sarah glanced out the window. “I was just thinking I wanted to go to Williamsburg.”

  Lydia nearly invited her, but when she glanced at her mother, Lady Caswell gave her the slightest shake of her head.

  Sarah quickly recovered the awkward silence. “Will you be paying anyone a visit while you are in town?”

  Lydia nodded. “We will be stopping to see Mrs. Pendell.”

  Sarah poured them each a cup of the light-pink drink, and Mother sipped hers without complaint. Lydia added a sugar cube, and the tea tasted a bit like the nutmeg that Viney put in her cider.

  Sarah picked up her cup. “I am sure Mrs. Pendell will be most glad for your company.”

  “Do you have news from your father?�
� Mother asked.

  Sarah shook her head. “It is difficult to get correspondence from the West Indies.”

  Lydia added another cube of sugar to the tea. “He must miss the plantation.”

  “We miss him as well.” Sarah smiled, but Lydia saw the strain in it. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to manage an entire plantation.

  “I can imagine.” Lydia sipped her tea slowly, hoping Sarah would say that she’d heard from Seth as well, but she didn’t mention her brother.

  Lydia heard footsteps on the wood outside the parlor, and she turned to see Thomas, the Negro man who worked with Sarah to oversee the property and slaves. Thomas shifted his hat into his other hand. “Good morning, Lady Caswell. Miss Caswell.”

  “What is it?” Sarah asked.

  “We found one of the Caswell canoes this morning, down by the stream.”

  Lydia’s teacup clinked against the saucer. Had Nathan taken one of their boats here?

  Mother cocked her head ever so slightly. “Why would our canoe be on your property?”

  “I am not certain, but I can have one of our men return it to you.”

  “Lord Caswell would thank you.”

  Thomas nodded and backed toward the door.

  “We must leave as well,” Mother said.

  Sarah stood. “Before you go, I have a favor to ask of you.”

  “What is it?” Mother asked.

  Sarah motioned for them to wait and left the room. When she returned, there was a leather pouch in her hand. “Would you take this letter to Williamsburg for me?”

  “Who is it for?” Lydia asked.

  Sarah shrugged. “It is a note for Mrs. Pendell. I would like to visit her in person, of course, but with our horses gone . . .”

  Lydia eyed the letter. She had not realized that Sarah and Mrs. Pendell maintained a friendship, but it was good for Sarah to have other women in her life, especially respectable gentlewomen.

  Mother nodded. “We would be glad to take it.”

  Lydia took the pouch and hugged her friend. “I have missed you.”

  Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes. “I have missed you too.”

  Mother thanked Sarah and moved toward the door. “I will meet you in the coach, Lydia.”

  Lydia nodded.

  Sarah lowered her voice. “Have you heard from Grayson?”

  Lydia shook her head slowly. She wished she could tell her that there was news. “What about Seth?”

  Sarah walked her toward the door. “It has been a long time.”

  “When you write him again—” Lydia started. She should tell him something, but what? That she still loved him, wanted to marry him? None of that was true. “Please tell him I asked about him,” she finally said.

  “I will do that.” Sarah leaned against the doorframe. “Sometimes I think, I pretend, that Grayson is still alive. I know it is wishful thinking—”

  Lydia nodded. “We cannot give up hope.”

  Sarah’s voice grew soft. “I still hope you will marry Seth.”

  The strangest mixture of sorrow and appreciation washed over Lydia as she linked her arm through Sarah’s. “No matter what happens, I will think of you as my sister.”

  “Aye,” Sarah said. “And I you, as well.”

  Lydia squeezed the pouch. “If only—”

  Sarah stopped her. “The people who killed your grandfather deserve to be punished, but Seth is not like them.”

  Lydia thought again of Nathan and his kindness to her. “I know.”

  “He only believes we should be free.”

  “The freedom comes at such a great cost,” Lydia said as they walked through the entry hall.

  “I suppose that is what we must wrestle with. Is this freedom worth it?”

  Lydia looked out the front door, at the carriage waiting outside. “I know not the answer to that question.”

  Sarah held open the door as Lydia stepped out. “Thank you for delivering the letter to Mrs. Pendell.”

  Lydia nodded, squeezing the pouch in her hands. “I wish you could come with us.”

  Elisha helped Lydia into the carriage and then climbed up to his seat. As he drove them toward Williamsburg, Lydia watched both Sarah and Morah waving from separate windows of the grand plantation home.

  Sarah lingered by the front window as Elisha drove Lydia and Lady Caswell away. Seeing the women together made her miss her mother, the lovely Mary Hammond from Philadelphia. Her father rarely talked about the woman who’d died birthing Sarah’s youngest brother, the brother who’d never received a name. He’d joined their mother an hour after she was gone.

  A thread of guilt wove through Sarah as she watched the Caswell coach disappear into the trees. Just two days ago, she’d waited for hours in the forest, until the British guards left, before she returned home. If she had continued to Williamsburg on foot, she would have been stopped and searched, the letter discovered.

  Now the letter was in Lydia’s hands.

  She hated putting her dear friends at risk, but she didn’t have a choice. Even if the coach was stopped by the British—and Lady Caswell told them that Sarah had given them the letter—she must risk it.

  Sarah squeezed the back of a tall chair. She wasn’t supposed to give the correspondence to anyone else, but if it wasn’t delivered, hundreds and maybe even thousands of lives might be lost. She could think of no other way to get the letter safely to Williamsburg.

  The British might have suspected Sarah with a letter hidden in her pocket, but she prayed they would not suspect her friend. Lydia reminded her of Grayson, a calm presence whenever Sarah was all in a flurry. Surely Lydia would be fine if someone stopped them. And she would truthfully say that the letter was for Mrs. Pendell, a woman respected by the British. If the British went to Mrs. Pendell, she could feign ignorance.

  Sarah slipped a book off the shelf and thumbed through it as she tried to distract herself.

  Minutes later, footsteps pounded across the hall and she heard someone yell her name. She put away her book, and when she stepped out into the entryway, she saw Morah. Her maid’s cap was missing, her long hair askew.

  Sarah rushed forward. “What is it?”

  Morah turned to her, gasping for air as if she’d run a mile. “A British ship has docked at our wharf.”

  “Are they coming on land?”

  She nodded. “I fear they’re headed this way.”

  Her heart raced. “We must find Thomas.”

  Perhaps they would respect him more than a woman.

  Sarah raced outside the door and down the front steps, calling for Thomas. He had just been in the house, but he could be in the fields now or in any one of their buildings.

  Negro men and women watched her from the doorways of the washhouse, kitchen, and dairy. She started down the avenue, toward the thousands of acres on this side of her house. Thomas could be on any one of them.

  “Miss!” Morah called behind her. “You must hide.”

  She turned. “I cannot.”

  “Master Hammond would want you to be safe, and so would Thomas.”

  She shook her head, though her heart began to falter. “Thomas and I will speak with the British together.”

  Morah pointed her toward the flank buildings. “You must let him do this alone.”

  “They will not respect—”

  Her words were silenced by the sound of a musket blast near the riverbank. She swiveled and saw a swarm of scarlet—enshrouded in black smoke—marching toward her.

  Her stomach rolling, she stumbled backward.

  “Hide.” Morah shoved her toward the dovecote. “I will find Thomas.”

  Instead of fighting, Sarah fled.

  “Poor Sarah,” Mother said as she watched the trees outside the coach windows.

  Lydia tapped the pouch in her hands. “She is caught in a terrible place.”

  Mother nodded. “Even though she remains loyal, she may be persecuted because of her brother’s choices.”

 
Lydia turned the pouch over. “At least she has us to help her, if it becomes necessary.”

  Mother was silent for a long time. “It would be dangerous for us to visit her again.”

  “She is like family.”

  “Aye.” Mother sighed. “’Tis a difficult situation.”

  “Her father is a commodore in the Royal Navy, and Sarah remains loyal.”

  “But now Major Reed and the others know about Seth.”

  “Whoa,” she heard Elisha say as the horses stopped. Lydia looked out the window and saw four men, three in red coats and one dressed in blue. She sighed. It seemed the soldiers were everywhere.

  One of the soldiers leaned against the coach, looking up at Elisha. “Where are you traveling to?”

  She heard Elisha’s muffled voice. “I’m taking my master’s wife and daughter to Williamsburg.”

  “We are in the midst of a war.”

  “The ladies are quite aware of that.”

  The men’s eyes narrowed, and Lydia braced herself.

  “Don’t be smart with me,” the soldier said.

  “I’m only telling you the truth.”

  Lydia looked at her mother’s finger circling the door handle.

  One of the men laughed. “We shall need a look at your ladies.”

  Lydia cringed. They had nothing to hide, but the thought of these men searching her and Mother was appalling. Mother opened the door and stood on the top step, overlooking the men. “What are you gentlemen doing on our road?”

  “We are wreaking havoc on some rebels.”

  “Since my daughter and I are not rebels, you can wait until our coach has passed to wreak it.”

  A man with dark hair and the blue uniform laughed. He must be one of the hired German soldiers she’d heard about.

  The Englishman stepped forward. “We have been ordered to search everyone on the road to Williamsburg.”

  Mother’s chin inched up. “I am afraid we can spare no time for a search.”

  “You are too busy to serve the wishes of the Crown?”

  “We are busy serving the wishes of the Crown,” Mother replied. “Elisha, please give this gentleman our letter from Major Reed.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know Major Reed?”