A Lady to Lead (Sisters of the Revolution Book 2)

by Audrey Glenn

  Helen thought her party was dressed well enough to appear at a royal ball rather than merely at the governor of Pennsylvania’s. She wore a green silk robe à la française with a gold petticoat layered with ruffles and a pair of full lace cuffs, while Cassandra and David coordinated in blue. It was a little nauseating that they always liked to match at parties, but they seemed to enjoy it immensely. At least if she married Nathaniel, she would never fear him matching her unless she dressed in unrelieved black.

  They promenaded down one side of the ballroom after being announced. David immediately secured Cassandra a seat, though she insisted she felt fresh and ready to dance. Helen listened to them debate the merits of Cassandra’s dancing in her pregnant state until she could not bear it any longer and left to find someone else to speak to.

  Her cousin Patience tapped her foot impatiently from a chair in a far corner.

  “Planning to dance?” Helen asked.

  “I was dragged here against my will. Papa thinks I’ll be a steadying influence on Temperance, but that’s a lost cause.”

  Helen turned to observe Temperance and Winthrop on the dance floor. Their expressions and manners were so stately and exaggerated they might have been on the stage.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw David approaching his old friend Dr. Benjamin Rush. Helen laughed to herself. David had transformed from someone terrified of a hint of pox to a man who couldn’t resist discussing the latest medical discoveries.

  A young man approached Patience and asked her to dance. Apparently she felt she mustn’t refuse him and ended up being dragged into a reel.

  Helen took the chair Patience vacated and amused herself by watching all her acquaintances. Euphemia, dressed and powdered to the peak of fashion, laughed with her dance partner. Constance stumbled over the steps as she daydreamed.

  She must distract herself from worrying about Nathaniel. He’d assured her he was quite safe.

  Helen saw David break away from Dr. Rush and approach Cassandra, who seemed startled by whatever he said to her. He then turned and left the ballroom with so furtive an expression Helen was instantly suspicious and leapt out of her seat to follow him.

  A footman was helping David into his cloak.

  “You’re leaving?” she demanded.

  “Dr. Rush has just informed me of a very pressing matter I must attend to,” he replied, not meeting her eyes. “He’ll escort you and Cassandra home.”

  “Wait. What errand would the doctor send you on at the beginning of a ball?”

  “Something for —” He lowered his voice. “—the Sons of Liberty.” He raised his eyebrows as if he’d told her something very secretive — as if he didn’t bandy his association with the group at every opportunity.

  Helen huffed. “You’re going to assist Nathaniel!”

  David immediately refuted this. “No. Nothing like that.”

  “I know you are, for I cannot imagine anything else that would drag you away from this party after half an hour. I should’ve known you were up to something when you wore the same suit of clothing you wore to the Harrisons’ ball. Oh well, enjoy playing at smuggling.”

  “Keep your voice down,” David hissed, looking around. The footman who brought his cloak had already disappeared. “Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Not even Cassandra! The more who know about it, the more likely it is we will be caught and punished.”

  Helen snorted. “Nathaniel said it was perfectly harmless.”

  “He lied. We are in great danger of losing everything. Who knows? The constable might show up and shoot at us!” David seemed very improperly excited at this prospect.

  “What? And this is how you care for my sister — rushing off into the night to put your life in danger when she carries your child?” She crossed her arms.

  “I’m doing this for Cassandra! I mean to buy her the home she deserves. Now, I must go. Do not tell anyone of this!”

  Helen stared after him. Was David imagining more danger in the business because he found it thrilling, or was there really such risk?

  Well, she certainly would tell Cassandra. If a man put his life in danger, his wife certainly had a right to know. Her sister was standing by the door when Helen reentered the ballroom.

  “Come outside for a moment,” Helen bade Cassandra, slipping an arm through hers.

  “Did David tell you he had to leave on some errand?” Cassandra whispered.

  “Yes, that is what I wish to speak of.” She waited until they were safely outside and made sure no one was around to overhear. “David has gone to assist Nathaniel with a smuggling operation!”

  “He told you this?”

  “I guessed it. I knew Nathaniel was bringing some illegal tea in tonight, and when David left so suddenly . . . . Should we prevent it?”

  Cassandra shook her head. “The smuggling? Oh, no. Let’s pretend as if nothing is wrong. David probably does not want his absence noted.”

  “You said there would be dancing bears out here?” Euphemia’s voice broke into their conversation.

  Helen whirled around to Eugenia standing with Winthrop, who wore a half smile.

  “The bears?” Euphemia repeated.

  “I must have been wrong. I’ll take you back inside.” Had he heard them? Surely not — she’d checked, and no one was around.

  “But Winthrop, you said —”

  His words were slurred, as if he’d had too much punch. “Back inside! Perhaps a nice cup of tea will set you to rights.”

  A chill went through her. Why had he mentioned tea?

  “Come, let’s return also,” Cassandra urged her. “Not a word,” she admonished. “We must act as if all is well.”

  When they returned to the ballroom, Winthrop had disappeared.

  A coincidence, Helen tried to reassure herself. He would reappear shortly, as ridiculous as ever. Even if he had heard her, he was probably too drunk to make sense of what she’d said. At least, she hoped so.

  Nathaniel’s heart pounded as he navigated a rowboat loaded with illegal tea around a particularly sharp bend in the Delaware River. Unloading the tea onto the rowboats had been easy. Nobody in Chester, where he had temporarily berthed the Good King George, raised an eye. Goods went up the river to Philadelphia all the time — and nighttime trips were not infrequent.

  Matlack’s crew was as loathsome as the man himself, so Nathaniel was glad he wouldn’t have a reason to deal with them after this was all over. They just needed to make it to the dock, unload the tea, and haul it to Nathaniel’s warehouse cellar, then he would pay them and hopefully never see them again.

  Cruising a river on a rowboat was a fair bit harder than steering while his larger ship was towed in, and his hands were still raw from digging. Still, it felt good to draw so near to the end of the business.

  As the rowboat rounded the bend Nathaniel could make out a tiny pinprick of light. He squinted — was he missing the second light? He drew a little closer and realized there was only one lit lantern — the sign for trouble. With only one light, the tea could not be unloaded and would have to be dumped in the river.

  The smuggling crew knew its business. With barely a sound, tea chests were lowered into the water and released. With a small huff, Nathaniel cut the ropes holding the eight chests his boat carried and tipped them into the river. So much for the plan.

  The light of a half moon allowed him to see the others turn back downriver. He should do the same. He’d agreed on the plan with Matlack.

  What had gone wrong? Although he couldn’t see him, Nathaniel knew David was standing on the dock. He’d risked everything to help Nathaniel — and he couldn’t abandon him now. He navigated to a pier further down than the one David stood on, dipping his oar carefully to avoid making a sound.

  He tied off the boat and pulled himself silently onto the pier then walked carefully towards David. At first he couldn’t see what was wrong, but as he drew nearer, he realized another man was standing nearby.

  The grati
ng voice of Winthrop Morley pierced through the air. “I dare not catch a chill by waiting out here any longer. You’ll have to come alone.” He was drunk enough to slur his words.

  “Very well; it appears my friend is not coming.”

  Nathaniel reacted without thinking and stepped forward into the light cast by David’s lantern. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I thought you’d never come,” David drawled, lowering the lantern a little.

  Winthrop turned and pointed a pistol at Nathaniel, who threw his arms in the air to stop the fool from firing on him. Winthrop smirked. “I knew I’d find you here. A rat can never escape a trap.”

  Nathaniel ignored this jibe. “I’d feel more at ease if you put the gun down. I didn’t know you’d invited him,” he added to David, who shrugged.

  “I have your lady friend to thank for leading me straight to you! You should never have trusted a woman with important business,” Winthrop admonished

  Nathaniel didn’t believe him. Unless David told Cassandra, the only lady he knew who was aware of the plan tonight was Helen. She would never have told.

  “My father has been eager to apprehend you ever since we learned of your plans to smuggle illegal goods into the city. Imagine how proud he’ll be of me when I bring you to him! If you would just call your men in so they can unload my cargo?”

  “What men? I’m here to meet Mr. Beaufort so we might take the night air.” Nathaniel flinched. The smell of the docks off the river wasn’t particularly pleasant.

  Winthrop took a step forward. “Don’t lie to me. Where’s the tea?”

  “What tea?” Nathaniel feigned innocence.

  Winthrop growled and advanced towards Nathaniel, stumbling from intoxication. Nathaniel winced, hoping Winthrop wouldn’t accidentally set the pistol off. “I know you’re bringing in illegal tea in defiance of my father’s order. What else would bring you out here at this time of night? Nobody would take the air here! It’s probably rolling with miasmas.”

  David shuddered violently and lifted his free hand to cover his nose and mouth.

  Nathaniel shrugged, hands still in the air. “I’m used to the smell after so many years at sea.”

  “It’s no matter. My father will take my word over yours any day. Now, walk slowly towards him,” Winthrop said, waving his pistol at David.

  “I also have powerful friends,” David attempted. “If you let us go, we can all meet with your father tomorrow and settle this as gentlemen.”

  “We shall settle it with him tonight. He thinks I’ve no proper occupation, but I’ll show my worth.” He laughed, the ridiculous sound incongruous with the seriousness of the situation.

  “I really must insist. My wife will be worried if I’m not at home.”

  Nathaniel felt ill. He didn’t think Winthrop was a threat to them, as long as he didn’t accidently fire off that pistol. He was also nearly certain the governor would not arrest them with no evidence of wrongdoing, if only due to David’s lofty position. However, he felt terrible about worrying Cassandra and Helen.

  “Morley —” Nathaniel began. Maybe he could talk Winthrop into letting David go.

  Winthrop whipped around. “You are worthless!” he spat. He lunged forward and stuck the barrel of the pistol in Nathaniel’s face.

  Nathaniel’s hands shot out to move the barrel upwards and away from himself. He tried to get the weapon away, but Winthrop only squirmed and twisted, so he wasn’t able to pry it away.

  Suddenly a shot rang out, and Winthrop fell to the ground. David stood over him with the lantern raised in the air. Half the glass was shattered, and the flame sputtered and danced.

  Nathaniel tried to catch his breath, mind racing to make sense of what happened. “You struck him?”

  “Yes, are you all right?” David crouched down to examine Winthrop.

  “He missed.” Nathaniel patted his chest to be sure.

  “Winthrop breathes.” David sounded relieved.

  “You should go,” Nathaniel encouraged. “That shot might draw attention. I’ll see him safe.”

  “It will be hard for you to move him.”

  Nathaniel tried to focus his thoughts. “He must have conveyance nearby.”

  In mute agreement they set off together, leaving Winthrop on the dock. His coach was easy to find with his family crest painted on the door.

  “Your master is unwell,” David called. “We require your assistance to move him.”

  Winthrop’s coachman looped his horse’s reins and climbed down to them. While David held the light, Nathaniel and the coachman managed to half-carry, half-drag Winthrop to the coach and heft him inside.

  “You’ll see him home?” David asked.

  “Aye,” the coachman called, snapping the reins and moving the carriage forward.

  David turned. “I must away, and quickly. Come, walk with me; I sent my coach back already.” He walked faster than Nathaniel had seen him do before.

  They reached Nathaniel’s street first. “Thank you,” Nathaniel said, the words inadequate for all David had done for him.

  “Yes, of course. I’ll come see you tomorrow.” David hurried off down the road, carrying the broken lantern.

  Nathaniel walked slowly towards his home, going over everything that happened and wondering if he could have done something different. Winthrop took an almost unnatural delight in thwarting him.

  He was certain he wouldn’t sleep well, but to his surprise, he had barely laid his head upon his pillow before drifting off.

  It was after four in the morning by the time Helen and Cassandra returned home from the ball. They’d both been too tense to enjoy the party, but they didn’t want to draw any attention to David’s absence by leaving early. Finally, Dr. Rush professed his desire to leave, and they readily agreed.

  “David?” Cassandra called as they entered the apartment. There was no answer. “David?” she tried again.

  “He’s not here.” Westing emerged from the kitchen. “He asked me to wait here tonight until he returned, though he thought that would not be long after midnight. He sent the coach back without him.”

  “Oh dear.” Cassandra steadied herself against the corridor.

  “I’ll go search for him,” Westing said, starting off immediately.

  “Where did the coach drop him?” Cassandra demanded.

  Westing turned back. “I don’t know; I’ll try and rouse the coachman.”

  “The docks,” Helen suggested. Westing nodded.

  Cassandra stared after Westing. “What could’ve happened to David?”

  Helen placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Perhaps it’s taking longer than they expected to move the cargo. Come, you should change out of those things.”

  She led her sister into her bedroom and helped her undress like she had when they were children. Helen suggested Cassandra lie down, but this was met by a glare, so Helen knew it was a lost cause.

  “Give me that,” Cassandra said, reaching for David’s wrapper. She slid her arms in and cinched the belt around her waist. They sat in the drawing room until the sun started to rise, but there was no sign of David or Westing.

  “Perhaps Westing is assisting David?” Helen suggested.

  Cassandra buried her face in her hands. Helen felt she could sit still no longer.

  “I’ll be back soon,” she said, rushing from the room.

  Nathaniel woke to the sound of someone pounding on his door. It was unlike David to be such an early riser.

  “What?” he called through the door.

  “It’s me — Helen.”

  Nathaniel sat up. Something must be terribly wrong for her to show up at his home. He hastened to pull on his clothing and opened his door. “What’s happened?”

  Helen looked as if she’d no sleep at all, and she was still dressed in an elaborate gown. “It’s David. He never came back.”

  “Never came back?” Nathaniel repeated. That made no sense. He remembered what Winthrop said — someone, a woman, had told
him where to find Nathaniel. He shook his head to dislodge the thought, irrelevant at this moment. Of course Helen hadn’t told Winthrop anything. He hurried to fasten the rest of the buttons on his waistcoat.

  “Was he involved in the smuggling?” Helen demanded.

  Nathaniel shoved his arms through his coat sleeves. “He was, but he should have been home hours ago.”

  “We were back at four, and his valet said he’d never seen him.”

  Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair. “I — I will accompany you home, and then I’ll go out and look for him. Perhaps he — I don’t know.”

  The cobbler who rented Nathaniel the room was occupied with a customer as Helen and Nathaniel descended the stairs from Nathaniel’s apartment. Nathaniel was glad of this, and especially glad the cobbler’s nosy wife wasn’t present. She would have done more than raise an eyebrow to see Helen leaving his room.

  “How did you know where I live?” Nathaniel asked.

  “I went to your warehouse,” Helen explained, “and while you obviously weren’t there, I asked a man entering the next building if he knew you and he did. He directed me to your address. A large man, rather bald,” she added.

  “Foster,” Nathaniel said quickly. Mr. Foster owned the warehouse across from Nathaniel’s. He was relieved Helen hadn’t run into one of the more unsavory characters who sometimes hung about the street.

  They hastened through the Philadelphia streets in the dawn light. Nathaniel scanned their route as he considered where David could possibly have gone.

  The door to the Beauforts’ apartment was ajar when they entered the main floor. Josiah Hayes was sitting across from Cassandra, who sat by the drawing room fire wearing a man’s dressing gown. Westing hovered nearby.

  Helen ran to her sister. “What is it?” Cassandra didn’t answer.

  “I received a missive this morning from David,” Hayes explained. “He was taken into custody late last night.”

  Nathaniel drew in a sharp breath. “For what?”

  Hayes cleared his throat. “Murder.”

  Helen jumped up. “What!” she exclaimed. “Who’s died?”