by Jerri Hines
* * * *
Peter Lanson studied the young woman in front of him. He didn’t like this, but there wasn’t much as of late that he did. Hannah stood before him with the look of a sacrificial virgin; her long hair flowing, her sad eyes. Willingly, walking blindly into a fire. In their first meeting he had promised her nothing, but after meeting with Nathaniel Sackett, now directing what was left of their counterintelligence, the decision had been made to proceed.
“Set it up, Lanson,” Sackett said as he sat across the desk from him. “Have contacts readied for her, and an escape plan. Prepare her the best you can. I believe she’s correct in her assumption her grandfather wouldn’t suspect. In this arrogance, we may be able to find a foothold. Find the leak and get her out.”
It sounded so simple, but he knew Clay well from previous dealings. Not only was he a shrewd man, but an extremely dangerous one. Lanson had confidence that Clay had helped the British infiltrate the Corbett’s home, but the pressing problem remained the leak in the first place. How had the British known that Corbett had the device to begin with?
Clay, long known for his stance behind the crown, arranged for Hannah’s move to New York. For this same man to have enacted his revenge against her father, which included his own grandson, Lanson wondered how cold his blood ran. But did Clay have access to the leak they were seeking?
He didn’t know. And now he allowed this unseasoned young woman to enter this game that he knew so well could have far worse than deadly consequences.
* * * *
Weather postponed the journey to New York until mid-February. The arrangement had been to meet at the Green Arms Tavern on the outskirts of New York. Her cousin, Matthew, escorted her.
“I’m at a loss to why you wish to do this, Hannah. You’re needed at home. I know it’s hard, but this doesn’t seem the right course with how your father felt about your grandfather,” he pleaded his case.
“Matthew, you have to trust me that this is the right move for me and the family. I need a change and Grandmother has long since wanted me to visit,” she tried to explain the best she could. “You have the run of the shop, now, until Jonathan comes home. When Lydia gets back on her feet, I feel it would be the best course of action to keep her there. She has gone through more than I. You have all you can deal with also. You don’t need me to add to it.”
“I don’t want you to run because of the girls. James said he had never seen such bravery. Hannah, I know they owe you. They will understand in time that your actions saved them,” Matthew replied as the carriage hit a bump in the well-trodden road.
Hannah reached over and squeezed her cousin’s hand. He was right in his conclusion of the girls’ rejection had hurt. Faith had withdrawn into a world of her own. Betsy expressed emphatically she didn’t want to see Hannah and when she had tried to see both the girls, Faith screeched as she had done on the plantation. Betsy’s eyes told Hannah not to tread close.
“I only did what I had to, Matthew. Your father told me to get them out. I wish at times I wasn’t as I am,” she said softly, fighting back tears welling up.
“You wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t and I doubt the girls would be either,” he answered simply.
Hannah stared out the carriage window. The last three months had been a nightmare. She still hadn’t heard from either Jonathan or Gabriel. And God help her, she had left poor Lydia alone, but Lydia knew well Hannah’s purpose.
With the raid and news of William, Lydia had taken to her bed only to deliver a stillborn daughter two weeks after the raid. Hannah’s heart broke watching Lydia say good-bye to her baby, the beautiful little one with a head full of dark hair who never breathed a breath. Lydia kissed her child and looked up at Hannah.
“I believe she should have a name. Do you not, Hannah? William would have wanted that. Do you mind Emily after your mother?” Lydia asked.
Within everything she had within her, Hannah nodded. She struggled to find her voice, “I believe William would have liked it very much.”
“She will be with her father. They won’t be alone,” Lydia whispered to her babe, but Hannah thought, Lydia was alone, so totally alone.
The hurt shone within her eyes. She visited the gravesite every day. The infant had been buried alongside her father’s marker for there had been no body to bury. Dunmore had disposed of the bodies himself. There had been no last letters, nothing for the family.
When Hannah told Lydia she had decided to travel to New York, Lydia knew at once the reason, not believing Hannah’s explanation.
“If you wanted to get away from here for a while, you would go to Philadelphia to Jonathan’s wife's family,” Lydia insisted. “I know you too well.”
“Don’t start, Lydia,” Hannah said defiantly. “It’s something I must do. There are times within one’s life when one knows they have to go down a certain road. I can’t stay here. I see within the Witherspoons the embarrassment that my father and brother’s death brought upon them. The way the girls look at me. You’re the only reason I would stay.”
Hannah took Lydia’s hand. “Trust me, Lydia. I don’t want my family to have died in vain. I have only one purpose. Then I will return. I’m not going to let this go unpunished. I have Gabriel. He will come for me if necessary.”
Lydia hesitated. For the first time, Hannah saw tears flow out her eyes. “I do have faith in you, my dear sister. And God forgive me, but I want you to succeed. With everything in me, I pray you do, but promise me one thing.”
Hannah nodded. Lydia continued, “After you have what you are looking for, come home. Don’t get caught up in a web you can’t escape.”
Hannah hugged her tightly. “I will. I promise. Gabriel won’t allow me to do otherwise.”
The motion of the carriage woke Hannah from her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. The driver reined in the horses. Matthew helped her out her carriage. A grand carriage waited out front of the Green Arms Tavern. Instinctively, Hannah knew it waited for her.
Chapter Nine
NEW YORK
In her youth, Hannah hadn't understood the beauty of the large colonial house which stood in front of her. It was quite the grandest along the street. The iron gates swung open, manned by two servants, as the carriage drew to the door along the circular pathway. A footman met her as the carriage door opened to help her down.
The wind picked up. Hannah pulled her cloak tighter around her as the cold encircled her. She hesitated at the imposing entrance, the embodiment of genteel formality. She walked slowly through the magnificent hand-carved wooden doors. The footman led her into the entrance hall, impressive with rich, elaborate workmanship and furnishing. The high ceiling opened to a handsome staircase with twisted baluster to the step, molded mahogany sweep upward. A crystal chandelier hung down brightly sparkling from the sun's rays. A shiver swept through Hannah that had nothing to do with the weather.
Hannah glanced around the foyer. The house seemed to be empty. Footsteps clicked upon the marble flooring. Hannah turned to the sound only to find a dowdy little woman dressed in a simple green dress with a white apron. She stumbled to a stop in front of Hannah. The woman hastily straightened her dress.
“Oh, my dear. Miss Corbett, isn’t it? You're here earlier than I was told. I'm sorry, my dear. I'm Mrs. Hayes, Mr. Clay's housekeeper. I'm to show you around. You'll see your grandfather and family later this evening,” she said with a forced smile.
The woman seemed oddly nervous. Hannah gave her a tentative smile, but refrained from asking why none of her family had greeted her.
Mrs. Hayes looked her over from head to foot. “I didn't realize you were in mourning, ma'am. Mr. Clay didn't mention the fact. But follow me. Isaac will take your trunk to your room. I'll show you around.”
Hannah followed in silence Mrs. Hayes brief tour of her new home. On the ground floor Mrs. Hayes showed Hannah the grand library, a formal dining room, and the kitchen. The house was even larger than it looked from the outside. Mrs. Hay
es led her to the first floor with two large drawing rooms and a study leading to a magnificent grand staircase curling up like a serpent, leading upward, enabling one to look down from the top floor in the hall.
Hannah took in her new home in silence, but when Mrs. Hayes walked to the back of the servants’ staircase instead of the family floor, realization flooded her. She wasn’t being welcomed as family. That was made clear enough as she walked up to the top floor and shown into a small room. Hannah walked over to the small window. The view was amazing being high enough to have an overview of the city below. She could see for miles.
“This is to be yours, Sweetie. It's not much, but it's clean. Mr. Clay will call you down when he's ready. I have to get back to my duties. I'm sure it won't be long.”
Hannah looked back at the woman who seemed quite uncomfortable. “Thank you, Mrs. Hayes. I’m sure I will be fine.”
Unable to contain her relief, Mrs. Hayes hurriedly excused herself. Hannah watched the woman close the door behind her and she was alone. Desolation and utter wretchedness threatened to overwhelm her.
Her grandfather had sent her a clear message. For the first time since she made the decision to come to New York, she wondered if she had chosen wisely. Then the memory of her mother encompassed her. Hannah saw her mother lying in a puddle of blood… dead… her father… William. No. I had no choice. No matter what she had to endure she would make them pay for her family’s deaths.
The room was bare, containing only a small desk with a lamp and a hard back chair along with a tiny bed. A small closet chest sat in the corner. She sat down upon the small bed and waited for her summons. It didn't come. She stared at the blank walls until the walls that had been silvery in the day faded to a rosy tint. A knock came, but it only brought a supper tray. Her belongings had yet to be brought up to her. She lay on the bed and eventually her eyes closed.
Sleep must have come since she dreamt. In a haze she ran through the plantation house, trying to escape. She was screaming for her mother. Bolting out the back door, a faceless man on horseback descended down on her. Crying out for help. None came. Then a screech startled her, wailing and sobbing ensued all around her. As in a trance, she walked toward the mourning. In front of her emerged the sight of her father and brother hanging from the giant oak tree…their eyes…wide open but neither were lit with life. In the distance an eerie malevolent resonated around her…she turned. Her uncle stood laughing at the sight before her. She screamed.
Hannah awoke. She was cold. She reached down and pulled the blanket about her, but her trembling didn’t cease. The realization of where she was swept through her. She wanted nothing more than for Mother Agnes to take her in her arms and comfort her…but there would be no comfort for there was no comfort to be had. She was no longer the cherished daughter. The world she had known was no more. She was alone.
There would be no sleep for Hannah the rest of the night. Before the sun rose, she slipped her feet down from her bed. The cold emanated from the bare floor. She looked out her window. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen during the night. She quietly eased open her door. She couldn't stay in her room any longer.
An uncanny stillness greeted her. All must have been asleep. She continued down the staircase. Hearing noises from the kitchen, Hannah gently eased the door open to be met with glares from the three servants within. Confused looks fly around the room, unsure what to do with her.
“I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep,” Hannah said. “And I was cold. Can I come in and warm myself?”
Finally, the heavy set woman with the graying hair ushered Hannah to a vacant chair around a rather large table. “There, there, child! You must be Mr. Clay's granddaughter. We had heard.”
She patted Hannah’s hands. “Oh, child! You are freezing.” She gave a troubled look to one of the girls at the end of the table.
“Let me introduce everyone. I'm Mrs. Carlton, the cook,” she pointed to herself. Then she nodded her head to the other two. “This here is Miss Trant and Miss James. You'll warm up in a few minutes. No one is usually up yet. It's cold in the other rooms until we get everything warmed up. Let's make you something to warm yourself up a mite.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said, but not much more. Neither did the women ask. In all probability, they had no need. Her father always said that the servants knew more about their lives than they did themselves.
Soon Hannah sat with a small plate in front of her. She hadn’t realized how hungry she had become. She ate and listened intently to their conversation and learned quickly she lived now in a far different household.
Her grandfather ruled with an iron fist where his word was law; a Loyalist household where King George was endured. None within these walls held sympathy for the cause which Hannah held dear.
Hannah didn’t notice the time passing. Suddenly, hurried footsteps rushed into the kitchen. Mrs. Hayes abruptly stopped, catching sight of Hannah. Relief flooded her face.
“Oh, thank the good lord! I had no idea where the girl was. Mr. Clay…he’s all upset. He’s thinking she has taken off. He’s none too happy…oh, he’s not happy.”
“Calm down, Mrs. Hayes. She's in front of you. We've looked after her real good,” Mrs. Carlton said.
Hannah smiled in an amused way. She knew well she shouldn’t for Mrs. Hayes was in such a state. She pushed back from the table and stood, “Thank you for breakfast.”
“Quite right. Thank you,” Mrs. Hayes added, rushing Hannah out. “I had no ideal. I went to your room. Oh, my heart. Thank goodness I found you.”
Hannah hadn’t a chance to explain her behavior. Mrs. Hayes seemed only interested in escorting her to her grandfather. Obediently, she followed the housekeeper down the corridor until they came to the study. The door already stood open.
Immediately upon entering, a sense of foreboding gripped Hannah. Framed against the window drop, her grandfather sat behind a large mahogany desk. Wooden shelves built into the wall filled with books surrounded the room. The giant windows sat covered by the curtains, not yet pulled to let in the sunlight. The room only lit by the fire that burned within the fireplace. He stared at her with a frown on his face, not as tall as she remembered as a child. His skin appeared as old as leather in the dim light. He had a beak nose and thin lips.
Hannah's legs trembled in his presence with a sudden sensation of her insignificance. She turned her eyes toward Mrs. Hayes wishing desperately that she could leave with her when her grandfather dismissed his housekeeper.
“You may go now, Mrs. Hayes,” her grandfather said with a flick of his hand.
Not withstanding his irritation, Mrs. Hayes gave Hannah a brief nervous smile and escaped out the door, closing it tightly.
Hannah stood unsure of what he wanted of her. She thought she had prepared for this moment, but she found herself fighting back a wave of nausea. She reprimanded herself greatly. She couldn’t show weakness.
Her grandfather said nothing for minutes. He stared at her as if assessing the situation. She had the distinct impression that she was to do nothing until commanded. He broke the silence. “You gave Mrs. Hayes a startle this morning. That can't happen again.”
“I didn't realize,” Hannah said. Suddenly she felt like a frightened child once more.
He cut her off. “Let me make this as plainly as I can. This won’t happen again.”
Hannah nodded. Despite herself, fear crept within her soul. This man who so maliciously and callously orchestrated her family’s deaths sat before her, staring at her with soulless eyes.
Her grandfather walked around his desk and stood before her. He commanded in a voice that resounded within the room, “You will obey the rules of this house. I won't have you uttering any of this independence nonsense. We're loyal subject of King George.”
She swallowed hard afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
“Your grandmother has waited patiently for you. She isn't well. I can't tell you how disappointed I was you didn't come sooner,” he said. He
didn’t blink nor did he wait for an answer.” She has had this guilt about Emeline. She holds herself responsible when the blame lies solely upon that man, but now he has paid for his sins. I have made certain of that.”
Horrified by his words, Hannah gasped. Her fear replaced by anger of almost a direct confession of her father's murder in her mind. She exploded, “I won't listen to your vilify my father! He was the best man I have ever known and loved. How dare you speak thus! My brother, William—”
She got no further before the back of his hand slapped her hard across the face, sending her sprawling across the floor. He stepped forward toward her. From the anger irradiating from his tone, she dared not look up at him.
“I have been warned of your insolence. Let this be a lesson to you. I won't tolerate such. This is your home. There is no going back, now. Do you understand? Do you understand?”
She crawled up on her two hands and slightly nodded. Blood flowed from her nose. She held it best she could. He pulled her up by her shoulders.
“I don't want any misunderstandings now, Hannah. It was your choice to come here, but now you are here. Learn quickly. I won't be questioned. I can assure you that you don't want to cross me. Understand me well, Hannah. Treat your grandmother well and things will go smoothly for you. If you choose not to do so, you will deeply regret it,” her grandfather….this man…Alexander Clay…warned. His eyes glared at her. “Do away with the mourning. There will be no mourning for that man in this house. It will only serve to upset your grandmother.”
Hannah turned her head. She couldn't move or look up at him. Blood covered her dress, her face. The impact of the blow stung.
“Go and get cleaned up. Your grandmother is anxious,” he said impatiently. “I will send Mrs. Hayes up to you.”
Before she turned to leave, she said in a low voice, “If you hate me so much Grandfather, why did you bring me here?”
