Angel's Flight

by Juliet Waldron

  danger she was in. No feigned innocence, either.

  Not only a beauty and an heiress, but a great lady! And here she is, the prize my mother promised, dropped into my hand like a ripe apple. I wonder if she’d bolt if I told her that my real name is Jack Church, not Jack Carter? Would she put two and two together, remember that it is my mother’s property which—so conveniently— adjoins her own?

  Instantly, Jack rejected the notion. Miss TenBroeck was smart as a whip and, besides, all these Hudson Valley Dutch knew kith and kin back ten generations. In fact, through their Livingston mothers, Angelica and Jack were distant cousins.

  He fought back the idea of what she’d feel like in his arms, of the probable taste of her sweet mouth. He did not want his unruly male self to rush, to frighten her.

  “I have been in New York but three weeks,” Jack was careful with his reply, “but I’ve already heard the major’s—amusements—have come near to bankrupting him.”

  “How on earth did you discover his plan to abduct me?”

  “One of his men, a decent fellow, a common soldier who’d served with me in Canada, spilled the beans. By the time his conscience got the better of him, however, it was far too late to go to Governor Tryon. A man who knows Crimp’s establishment told me about the outside stairway and the hidden door. So, I filled my purse and sent a few messages. Then Daniel and I galloped out there.”

  The lady beside him shivered. Jack hoped his story didn’t seem too pat.

  “What do you mean,” she asked, turning away from the shining river, “about a special sympathy for my sex?”

  Well, he thought, it is a bitter story and a true one. ‘Twill not harm my cause to repeat it.

  “Miss, the young lady I fought my duel over was my second cousin. She was seduced, used by a scoundrel, and discarded in a house like the one I just took you from. Her father was willing to leave her there. He, exactly like the world, judged the sin to be hers. It was left to me to seek justice. I killed the man who dishonored and abandoned her, and I shall never repent the deed.”

  The way he spoke, his gray eyes turning to flint, sent another shiver through Angelica.

  It was a story far removed from what Minerva had intimated... “My family is respected, and their pockets reasonably deep,” Jack continued, “but not enough to protect me entirely, for my adversary

  was highly placed. That is the long and the short of how I come to be in America.”

  “You speak of this unfortunate young woman in the past tense.” Angelica crossed her arms over her bosom tightly and hugged. Her own raw brush with the nightmare was horribly fresh.

  “Yes, Miss TenBroeck,” Jack replied solemnly. “Mary was in decline when I found her. Although I left her safe, in a good country place, she died. You see she had been in love with the bastard. Her death was the last news I had before I sailed.”

  There was no more to say. Clearly unsettled himself, Jack turned his attention to his horse. The big bay had edged close, and was now trying to push a black velvet nose into his master’s pocket.

  “This fellow—Hal is his name—he and I, we’ve been through some adventures together. Even though he’s not young, I could not leave him.”

  Out of the pocket he pulled a withered winter apple, apparently what the horse had been after. “He’s gelded, so there was no good reason to bring him, but he’s just too much of a trusty friend to leave behind.”

  There, Angelica thought as she watched the horse’s fuzzy lips receive the apple, is a being who does not know how to lie about his feelings. This horse has been treated well—and for many years—by this gentleman stranger.

  She was soothed by the sight of Jack stroking Hal. His strong fingers rubbed the horse’s ruddy ears and caressed his black poll.

  As she watched, the horse closed his eyes in pleasure. After a while, Jack stepped back and began a search for something in the saddlebag.

  “The sun will be down in three hours. Will we come upon an inn?” he asked. “I hear they are scarce.”

  “They are indeed. Before the war, we could simply sail up to Kingston. Just above Tarrytown, the cliffs come right down to the river and the road becomes very difficult.”

  “I’ve heard the gaps are full of bandits, so we shall try the water.” “With your pass, we can sail all the way to Newburgh.”

  “Yes, but once we pass the rebel blockade, I’ll be a liability. I suppose I shall have to learn to talk treason.”

  He gave her a swift, apologetic glance, and offered a sip of water from the bottle he’d brought out of his saddlebag. Angelica gratefully accepted, taking deep swallows of the lukewarm stuff.

  “So you came to seek refuge,” Angelica mused as she passed the bottle back. His soldierly self inclined toward her, while a brown booted foot rested upon the trunk. “And what you find is a war and your property behind enemy lines.”

  “Yes. ‘Tis a larger inconvenience than expected. In spite of being a soldier,” he observed, “I’ve never been much for politics, and this particular war seems madness. A great deal of blood spilt quibbling about a few pennies tax.”

  “But it is more than pennies,” she insisted. “Being treated as if we are children, forever to be ordered about by Mother England, is no quibble. Certainly not to my uncle and other men of education and property—much like yourself, sir. They believe they have as much right to liberty as any man who dwells upon English soil.”

  “In my case, miss, only a little education and no property at all,” Jack countered with a wry smile. “You are a forceful speaker for your cause. I confess I had simply planned to do as I’ve heard the New Jersey farmers do and take an oath to whichever side happens to hold their country, and pray to be left in peace.”

  “Such pliancy is understandable in our current circumstances, but how can you reconcile such an attitude with your honor, your principles?”

  Jack sighed, stepped down and turned away, apparently seeking relief in meditation upon the sparkling river.

  When he spoke at last, he said, “I came here hoping to find an end to the strife of the last year—all of which was caused by my adherence to principle. Principles, as I’m sure you know, may cost a man his life. Sometimes, if we are not ready to die, we compromise and make whatever shift we can.

  “I confess I’ve had my fill of killing. You don’t fault a desire for peace, do you, Miss TenBroeck?”

  “No, sir, I do not. I pray for it nightly. I don’t think I’m a coward, but I have been much afraid—today, of course—and also the night General Washington retreated from the city.”

  “A large section burned.”

  “Yes. My Aunt Livingston’s house is north on the Broad Way, so we weren’t close to the fire, but I saw the sky turn red as if hell itself had risen on Wall Street. Crowds of people stampeded past our gates. I’ve never been so glad that Aunt Laetitia takes good care of her servants. There were strong men present to guard us.”

  “A good thing. I heard it was dangerous before General Howe restored order.”

  “Yes.” Angelica shivered again, remembering. “And terrible things happen everywhere that never did before. I believe in my uncle’s cause, but I hate this war. It has divided our family. Some neighbors and tenants are now our enemies. Barns are burned, and cattle and horses belonging to both sides have been so cruelly maimed they must be destroyed. I do not believe there’s any glory in war.”

  It was from this violence she had run to the city, where she’d once had so much winter fun, but the ugliness, the hatred, had pursued, hemmed her in. Finally, terrifyingly, it had dragged her to the tawdry house of Mrs. Crimp.

  Angelica had gone on trying, just as Aunt Laetitia and her children had, to live life as before. A sail to Caroline Beekman’s with her cousins, Nick and Phil, on a sparkling spring morn, had ended when Major Armistead’s men intercepted their boat.

  “I’ve been such a fool,” Angelica whispered. Her throat was suddenly full. “Thinking I could just run away from it.”
Tears welled, then cut a hot course down her cheeks.

  Jack was by her side at once. “Dear Miss TenBroeck,” he said softly, offering his handkerchief. “I think we’ve both been guilty of running away to look for peace, although it seems we aren’t likely to find it soon. You have every right to, but please don’t cry,” he added, lifting one of her hands.

  A light lingering salute brushed her fingers. Angelica raised her eyes to his, and found them full of a wonderful, admiring tenderness.

  Lovely, his eyes. A black line encircled the gray. The lashes, too, were dark. The abundant muscle, the pride, the daring, was so like— ’Bram!

  Careful! An inner voice urged caution. This was a man she hardly knew, a dangerous man, before whom—as if she needed further proof—she’d seen that viper George Armistead give ground.

  “It will soon be our turn at the ferry,” Jack said, as she collected herself.

  The day was warm and sparkling, the little buds shook gently on the trees. Beyond them, the river was a moving sheet of glass. In the west, clouds were rising, lifting their heads over the dark body of the Tappan Zee.

  ***

  The curious eyes of the other passengers made her anxious. In response to the chat of the ferry master, Jack introduced Angelica as “my sister.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. and Miss Church,” said the fellow. He used the names Jack had given and tipped his battered hat, revealing a patchy pink pate surrounded by a tonsure of long, straggling yellow.

  “I’m the ferry master—Cornelius Vanderlyken. I have kin in Tarrytown, but I’ve never heard of any Churches livin’ there.” Speculation narrowed his foxy eyes.

  “We’re kin to the Phillips,” Angelica replied with quiet assurance. “We lived, before all this trouble started, in Coldenham.”

  “Phillips, you say?” The man’s gaze held a new respect. “Why didn’t you say afore, Mr. Church? I could’ve worked things around to get you on an earlier boat.”

  “Never mind, sir. The soldiers are on the march and we may yet reach home before dark,” Jack replied, as calm as if her tale was true.

  The boat was filled with poor families and all sorts of stock. It was crowded and odorous, but the crossing passed without incident.

  As they were riding north on the other side of the water, Jack asked Angelica about the Phillips.

  “The richest family in this part of the state,” she replied. “They’re prominent Tories.”

  “Well, if he believes you, now we’re so respectable he won’t mention us when he makes his report.”

  “Report?” Angelica was not certain she’d heard him correctly.

  “Who else would be left in charge of a ferry but someone who will tell what he sees?” Jack explained. “All that interest in the doings of strangers is certainly paid for.”

  It was full twilight when they reached Dobb’s Ferry. After being turned away at the first inn, they found lodging in the second. However, the next day was market day in nearby Tarrytown. They would have to share a room.

  Angelica swallowed hard, but let the charade go. Jack Carter had, after all, been nothing less than a gentleman.

  To escape the curiosity of their companions at the inn, they had dinner upstairs. After taking turns washing up in the basin, they ate alone in the under-the-eaves room they’d been given.

  The meat was a scrawny, overcooked chicken. “Better black than raw.” Jack was philosophical.

  Along with it came a platter heaped untidily with potatoes and turnips and several hot, fresh slabs of fried sentimentality doused in molasses. Jack poked warily at those, but Angelica tucked into them at once.

  “Do you think Major Armistead will come after us?” she finally wondered aloud. She’d been eating ravenously. It had been a long, long time since breakfast at Aunt Laetitia’s.

  “He will.” His confidence sent an unpleasant thrill down Angelica’s spine. “We’ve been lucky so far.”

  In the wavering candlelight, she was suddenly surprised by a bolt from his eyes, ablaze with naked admiration.

  “As we get closer to your rebel friends, things will get more difficult because of me being British.” He broke into a smile. “It’s fortunate you dressed this morning for boating and not for one of your aunt’s tea parties.”

  “And you are dressed for a journey, too, but you are always somber, sir. When I first saw you, I wondered if you were a Quaker.”

  Jack laughed, a cheerful sound. “I dislike spending money on finery,” he admitted. “It’s a Puritan streak inherited from my mother. She never did take to the High Church ways of my father. It became a source of disaffection between them. Papa was always scolding her for hiding her hair—a glory like yours—beneath caps. Now that I’m out of my red coat, everyone says I dress like a damned Roundhead.”

  Angelica smiled in return. “You dance very well, Mr. Church, so you cannot possibly be a Puritan. And, sir, thank you for the compliment.”

  “It’s the plain truth, Miss TenBroeck.” His gray eyes flashed again.

  “Actually, you look more like a merchant than a Quaker. Practical and restrained.”

  “Practical? Restrained?” Jack threw back his handsome head and laughed again. “I think my good mother would die of shock at your calling me either. Remember. I’m a man who has thrown a world away for a principle.”

  “A world, sir?” Thinking he was teasing, she lifted an eyebrow.

  “I had a fiancée, Miss TenBroeck,” he replied softly. “A lady to whom I was devoted. To whom I, but six months past, said farewell forever.”

  “Oh, why?” Angelica just breathed the words, for although his answer had been formally framed, she sensed the wound was raw.

  “It was her brother with whom I dueled.”

  “Oh! Dear Heaven! I am—am—so sorry.”

  “So that is my whole confession, Miss TenBroeck,” Jack said. “I hope so much truth, so soon spoken, doesn’t alarm you, but there should be no secrets from a lady who must travel with a man she barely knows. Judge as you will.”

  “I would not presume to judge you, sir.” After a moment of considering the brave clean lines of his face, she added, “I cannot judge your lady either. The evil deed done by her brother brought more evil in its wake. It is often so.”

  Jack nodded. “I’ve begun to believe it was for the best,” he said, studying Angelica. “For does it not say in the marriage vows that a woman forsakes her family and goes with her husband?”

  “Ah, sir,” Angelica murmured, meeting the terrible severity of his eyes. “Your lady was put to a terrible trial!”

  “Yes,” said Jack. “Believe me, miss, I shall always respect her for she was faced with a decision in which duty to her family seemed preeminent. Duty and honor are not easy things, as life eventually teaches every person of breeding. I did what I believed honor required. She did the same. That the results of the trial differed, that she did not choose as I wished, does not mean either of us has fallen short.”

  “I would never have suspected it, but you’re a philosopher.”

  “Hardly.” A short laugh came, not such a pleasant one this time. “Soldiering has got into me, right into my bones, and made me believe loyalty is the touchstone. I was not the lady’s captain...her father was.”

  For an instant, his face hardened. Angelica had the shock of beholding, not the handsome contours of flesh, but the bone beneath.

  “You’ll be a stern husband, sir.” Angelica took refuge in a playfulness she didn’t feel.

  “I’ve come to believe the kind of marriage I desire is a great deal more than the mere joining of flesh.”

  Then, a suave mask flowed over his intensity, the change happening right before her eyes.

  “See what intimates we have become, Miss TenBroeck, in just a day’s ride.”

  Translucent eyes caught hers, pierced. “I had sworn to become anonymous, a compromiser,” he said. “Yet, here I am, playing knight errant and offending a lady’s ears with the misf
ortune which brought me here.”

  “I am happy you have been candid, sir.”

  It was not proper, perhaps, to learn so much about a person all at once, but Angelica felt easier knowing exactly the kind of man to whom she had entrusted herself.

  “Well, it seems Miss Angelica TenBroeck and Colonel Jack Carter—retired,” he added, making a face at the pompous tag, “shall begin an odyssey together.”

  Abruptly, he pushed back his chair and got up. “Time I went downstairs. We need a featherbed—and some blankets that aren’t lousy,” he said.

  While Angelica struggled with the agitation that rose again as soon as she thought of sleeping in the same room with him, he added, “I don’t want them to get the idea we’re eloping. If they think that, we’ll be an item of gossip, which will surely reach the wrong ears. We must rest tonight and leave early tomorrow.”

  Then, taking the stubby remains of a candle to light his way, he went out.

  Angelica watched him go, erect and graceful in his dark suit, the braided queue a trail of sandy blonde upon a broad back. As soon as the door closed, she felt apprehension swell.

  ***

  Quite a task before me tonight, Jack thought as he went down the narrow stairs. The fish nibbles, but she is nowhere ready for the hook. So, we shall spend a night together, and it will be as different from the one Armistead planned as I can manage. Still, with an Angel like that— all roses and cream and curves, that sweet, fresh mouth I’d kill ten men to kiss! Whew! I’ll have to keep a tight, tight rein on my inclination.

  Chapter Four

  Feeling tired and unsettled, Angelica continued to stare into the watery dark. In daylight, the view from the sloping attic of the inn was the restless Tappan Zee.

  Now flashes of lightning illuminated the heights of the far shore and reflected on the tossing water. Night had come, and a storm was rushing in from the west.

  A bolt slashed the darkness open. An answering roar of thunder shook the sides of the house and rattled the windows sending a chill breath into the room. In the moment of illumination, she saw white caps on the river.