“I—” she said, stumbling over her words. She did not want to anger him, but she refused to let him entertain the idea of matrimony. “I cannot marry you.”
“But your father said—”
“Major!” an officer yelled, and she turned to see the man running toward them. Relief at the interruption washed over her.
Captain Moore bent over, his hands on his knees, as he heaved deep breaths.
“What is it?” Major Reed demanded.
“Someone has released all the horses,” Captain Moore said. “The stable hand is frantic, trying to round them up on foot.”
Lydia pressed her lips together. Had Nathan spooked their horses?
Major Reed waved his hand, dismissing him. “Help him retrieve the horses.”
“We cannot find them in the darkness.”
“Imbeciles,” the major muttered. “I must escort Miss Caswell back to the house, and then I shall assist you.”
Captain Moore glanced her way. “I can escort her.”
How was this out-of-breath man supposed to protect her from any harm?
“Please do not concern yourself with me,” Lydia said as demurely as possible. “I have no need of an escort back to the house.”
“No—” Major Reed began, but then another of his men interrupted him.
“I am sorry, sir, but there is a fire in the washhouse.”
Major Reed scanned the gardens behind Lydia. “Someone is toying with us.”
Lydia clutched her candle, her eyes wide. “You must stop them,” she begged. “We need our horses.”
“It would not be pru—”
She stopped him. “Please, go!”
And so he spit out his tobacco and ran, both officers rushing behind him. In that moment, it seemed as if they had all forgotten about her.
As she lowered her candle to her side, relief flooded over her. She took a deep breath and continued her stroll toward the river, hoping Nathan would find her before the men returned.
She meandered down the path, crossing by the stalks of corn, when someone blew out her candle. It dropped to the ground.
“Come with me,” Nathan whispered, taking her hand. Then he pulled her into the narrow rows of corn.
She trembled. “They are searching for you.”
He held her hand a moment longer before he slowly released her fingers. He leaned down to speak into her ear. “They will not find me.”
The cornstalks towered around them, shielding them from the house and Major Reed. Nathan’s face was inches above hers, and in the starlight, she could see the intensity in his eyes. She trembled again, but she did not know if it was because of fear or because of the way Nathan was gazing at her.
Her voice quivered when she spoke. “Did you have to burn our washhouse?”
“It was only a small fire.” The warmth of his breath as he again whispered in her ear made her feel faint. “Your message saved our supplies.”
“But not the shipyard.”
“Soon we will have enough men to fight them.” He moved his head back to study her face. “Lydia—”
When Seth proposed long ago, she had felt an obligation to marry. With Major Reed, she felt only fear. But here with Nathan, hiding in the garden, she felt something else. Longing, perhaps. And—love.
She was falling in love with a Patriot spy.
She searched his eyes and wondered at the admiration she saw in them. “Yes?”
“I—” Someone shouted in the distance, and her heart quickened. “We must hurry.”
He reached for her hand again, and this time he placed some sort of package in it. She clutched it to her chest. “You must write me in secret now, in case your letters are found.”
“But how—?”
He spoke quickly. “There is a letter in this booklet that explains what you must do next. Memorize it tonight and then burn the instructions.”
She nodded. “I shall.” She wanted to stay hidden here with him forever, but it wasn’t safe for them to linger. “You must go,” she insisted.
His fingers brushed over her hand again. “Lydia, I—”
Voices in the garden interrupted him. The men seemed to be coming closer.
She pushed his arm. “Go.”
He leaned toward her again, and for one moment, she thought he was going to kiss her lips. She froze at his nearness, not knowing what she should do. But then he kissed her cheek, and she inhaled sharply, the sound of it like a cannon blast in the night.
He met her eyes one last time and then turned. In seconds, he had vanished into the stalks behind him.
She lifted her hand to her face, the touch of his lips searing her skin. Her feet seemed planted into the dirt as her mind warred against her heart.
She ought not feel this way about Nathan. He had likely kissed her in gratitude for her work as a courier and a spy. Still, she should be drowning with guilt for deceiving her family, their king, the man she once planned to marry.
But she didn’t feel guilty at all.
The stalks rustled to her left and she heard the voices of the men again as they searched through them. She tucked the small package down the front of her gown and stepped back out into the gardens. Her head lifted high, she strolled toward the house.
Captain Moore stopped her. “I thought you had already returned.”
“I decided to finish my walk,” she said with a shrug. “There did not seem to be any danger in the gardens.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did you see anyone?”
“Indeed,” she said with a nod. “Your men seem to be everywhere.”
His gaze traveled over her shoulder, scanning the gardens, and then he looked back at her hands. “Where is your candle?”
She looked down at her hands as if they had swallowed the holder and flame. “I must have dropped it.”
“That was quite careless of you, Miss Caswell.” The skepticism was potent in his voice.
“I suppose it was.”
She wanted to run. The captain was right; she had been careless.
Holding her composure as steady as possible, she walked up the stairs and into the house before she climbed up to the third floor. Then she stepped out on the small patio overlooking the gardens. Outside were clusters of lantern light moving quickly over the lawn, but if they hadn’t found Nathan yet, she doubted they would.
Wherever he hid, she hoped he would burrow down until they stopped searching. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Daylight lingered far into the evenings as the summer progressed. The long nights reminded Lydia of a child staying up as late as possible to play in the colorful gardens and fruit trees before finally slipping to sleep over the horizon. She had no information to deliver to Nathan, but she still walked every night at dusk to check for a ribbon in the gazebo.
Each night she was disappointed at the absence of the ribbon, but she prayed as she walked, asking God to keep Nathan safe wherever he was. And she prayed that Grayson was still alive and would return to them one day.
Ever since she refused his proposal of marriage last week, Major Reed had ignored her, and the officers no longer spoke of anything significant in front of her family. But when the time came for her to listen, she was prepared. She’d hidden the small bottle of ink Nathan gave her by stitching it into the cushion of her window seat. In his letter to her, Nathan had said the ink was invisible.
Outside her bedchamber, Lydia heard Hannah’s laughter echo down the hall, filtering into Lydia’s room along with music from the hall below. Lydia opened her door and saw the major looking down upon Hannah as if she were a sweet cake prepared just for him.
Hannah ignored Lydia’s presence, continuing to laugh as if she were aged five instead of fifteen. The major turned toward Lydia, satisfaction flickering in his eyes.
Her hand on the banister, Lydia glared at the man who had proposed to her in the garden. “Hannah must return to her room.”
Hannah
’s eyes flashed. “You can hide behind your door, Lydia, but I will not.”
She ignored her sister. “Do you know how old she is, Major Reed?”
“Old enough to marry when others will not.”
Hannah placed her hand in the crook of Major Reed’s arm. With a swift nod toward Lydia, the major escorted Hannah toward the stairs. Then he turned and looked back at Lydia one more time, as if she might change her mind.
Would it keep Hannah safe if she did?
She doubted it, and she had no power over that man or Hannah. Her sister would never listen to her.
Lydia pounded on her parents’ chamber door until Mother answered.
A glass of Father’s Madeira sat on the stand beside Lady Caswell’s bed. Lydia eyed the drink as she sat on the window seat. She’d never seen her mother drink wine in her chamber.
Lydia drummed her fingers on the cushions beside her. “Where is Father?”
“In the fields,” Mother answered before taking a sip of the wine.
Lydia pointed toward the door. “Hannah is flirting with Major Reed, and unfortunately he is reciprocating.”
Mother set down her glass, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want to marry the major?”
“No.”
Mother lifted her glass again to her lips. “Then it is for the best.”
Lydia clenched her fingers together. She knew how important peace was to her mother, but was she really willing to sacrifice one of her children for it? “It is not best for Hannah,” Lydia insisted.
“Major Reed will protect her and all of us.”
“You do not even like the man!”
Mother sighed. “It matters not who or what I like. What is best for our family is what is important.”
“Hannah mustn’t marry him. She is too young, and he is too—”
“Hold your tongue, Lydia.” Mother nodded toward the door. “Someone might hear you.”
Lydia folded her arms over her chest and lowered her voice. “You know he is not best for her or for our family.”
“I do not know anything anymore.”
The major might be kind to them as long as there was a hope for the future, but she wished her sister didn’t pine for the man, wished Hannah was merely playing this terrible game to protect their family. Unfortunately she had never known Hannah to bother herself by caring for another.
Footsteps pounded in the hallway, and Father rushed into the room.
Her heart sank at the look of distress on his face.
Father crossed the room and turned, continuing to pace as he spoke. “We have lost two more house servants and ten field slaves.”
Lydia leaned back against the glass panes. The loss of their remaining slaves would be a blow to Father as he prepared to harvest their crop.
“Perhaps Major Reed and his men will help you find them,” Mother said.
Father opened the door, and Lydia followed him down the main steps until he found the major with Hannah and the other officers in the drawing room. Major Reed looked up from his cards. “What is it?”
“I fear some more of my Negroes might have joined your army.”
The major tossed a card onto the table. “The king has permitted them to do so.”
“But I bought these men.”
Major Reed shook his head. “I understand, but there is nothing I can do.”
Father leaned back against the banister. “Who will harvest my tobacco?”
“Surely there are other workers you could hire.”
“All the younger men are off fighting.” Father stepped toward the door and then turned to look at Lydia. “Tell your mother that I will return.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To retrieve my Negroes.”
Outside the drawing room, she stopped him. “Hannah is consorting with Major Reed.”
“That is the only good news that I have had today,” he said before he retreated toward the front door.
“It is not good at all,” she muttered, but he had already left.
It seemed as if everything was upside down. Without this war, Father would never entertain such a match for his youngest daughter, but he was as desperate as Hannah.
Perhaps they were all desperate.
Some for victory. Some for peace. And some for freedom.
Father returned three nights later, while Lydia and Mother were upstairs stitching in the quiet. When the door to her parents’ room flew open, Lydia jumped.
“Charles,” her mother exclaimed, and she rushed forward, her arms open.
Father embraced her, holding her close.
Lydia looked away. She knew her parents loved one another, but she rarely saw affection between them. Mother’s tears demonstrated how much she loved her husband. That was what Lydia wanted, to love and to be loved.
“Did you find our slaves?” Mother asked.
He shook his head. “But General Cornwallis and his men have taken over Williamsburg.”
“Are the Pendells safe?” Mother sounded alarmed.
“Indeed. It seems the army is only resting before they march again.”
“How many soldiers are stationed there?” Lydia asked, trying not to sound as alarmed as her mother.
“Mr. Pendell said at least seven thousand.”
Lydia straightened the edges of her skirt. Did Nathan know there were so many?
“The number of soldiers is good news, is it not?” Mother asked.
“It is good for the king, but our plantation will not survive if we cannot get our crop in.”
It was too bad the soldiers couldn’t band together to build up the colonies and harvest the land.
“Someone in Williamsburg must know what happened to our slaves,” Mother said.
“I met with Cornwallis himself, but he said that hundreds of slaves have joined their ranks in the past month. I searched for two days, but I think our Negroes must have moved up north quickly.”
Mother sighed. “Did his men indicate when this war would end?”
Father shook his head.
“Surely the British could take over Virginia now,” Lydia said. She hated hounding her father for information, but she must find out what was happening, for the good of all of them.
“It may not be as easy as we once believed,” he said. “The French have sent more troops and ships to help the colonists.”
“The British must have more!” she insisted.
“They are not certain of it.” Father’s eyes grew worried again. “The Marquis de Lafayette is leading his men this way along with General Washington, but Cornwallis does not know how many soldiers they have.”
Laughter filtered in through the open window, and Lydia turned back toward her father. “If Cornwallis is in Williamsburg, why are Major Reed and his men still here?”
“They will not be needed until the battle begins.”
Lydia tried to steady her racing heart. She must get Nathan the news right away.
Lydia used the invisible ink to write her message, but delivering the letter was not as easy as she thought it would be. She’d attempted her delivery last night, but an officer had stopped her on the portico, begging her to dance.
She had concealed the message inside the pocket under her gown, and throughout the miserable dance, it felt as if it might burn a hole in the fabric. Nathan needed this information, and yet she could not continue to throw suspicion on herself by escaping while the others were entertaining themselves.
Most of the officers didn’t seem to think a woman could be smart enough to collect and share intelligence—and she would give them no cause to think otherwise—but Captain Moore continued to watch her closely.
As she finished breakfast this morning, the letter for Nathan remained in her pocket. Hannah hadn’t joined them for the meal, and many of the officers were already gone, patrolling the countryside by foot since most of the horses hadn’t been recovered.
After she stood, she spoke to her mother. “I shall c
ut flowers for the table.”
“Do fetch some English roses,” Mother instructed.
“Of course.”
Lydia picked flowers from the garden and then slipped around the side of the orangery. With her back to the building, she loosened the brick behind her and slipped the message inside. Once, she’d been afraid Hannah would find her secret, but the stakes were so much higher now.
She’d taken a few steps when a flash caught her eye. She turned, hoping it was Hannah. “Who’s there?”
An officer stepped out, and she caught her breath. She didn’t dare turn toward the orangery.
“You frightened me, Captain Moore.”
His eyes narrowed. “Only the guilty are easily frightened.”
She forced her eyebrows up in surprise. “Or those who are being stalked.”
“Major Reed might not think you are capable of treachery, but you do not fool me, Miss Caswell.”
“Are you accusing me of being a traitor?”
“Your actions have proved quite suspicious.”
An angry huff escaped from her lips. “You eat our food and drink our wine, and now you suspect me of what I do not know.”
“We would eat your food and drink your wine whether or not you allowed us.”
“We have been nothing but gracious to you, Captain.” She held up the flowers. “And now I must return to the house to help the servants prepare a meal for you and your fellow officers tonight. Or would you prefer to eat our food without preparation?”
“You had best be careful, Miss Caswell.”
“And you had best be careful as well, Captain. Major Reed would not like to hear that you were harassing the woman he has asked to marry.”
A strange look crossed the man’s face. “The major proposed marriage to you?”
“He has.”
“And you have accepted?”
She swallowed. “I have considered it.”
“Then I suppose he is right. You are not nearly as smart as I first believed.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nathan waded through a riverbed along Virginia’s coast at twilight and swatted at the cloud of mosquitoes that bombarded his head. The mosquitoes had been following him since this morning when he hopped off the wagon of a fellow Patriot who’d transported him to the outskirts of Manassas.
The Courier of Caswell Hall (American tapestries) Page 18
