But One Life

by Wyn Estelle Owens

  The door swung open, revealing a dark-skinned man wearing a tailor’s cap. Ginny sucked in a breath and smiled cheerily. “Is this Mr. Mulligan’s house?”

  The man nodded slowly. “Yes—what do you want, miss?”

  “I have a quick message from my master for Mr. Mulligan.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “And your master’s name?”

  The moment of truth. “I work for Mr. Culper, a—working acquaintance of Mr. Mulligan, I believe.”

  His eyes went wide. “I’ll go get him, Miss.” He shut the door, and Ginny breathed out in relief.

  The door opened again a minute later, and the servant motioned her in. “Mr. Mulligan will see you now, miss.”

  She smiled at him confidently, stepped inside, and was silently escorted to what Ginny assumed was Mr. Mulligan’s office. The servant politely knocked on the door, and a voice resounded from within.

  “Come in.”

  The servant grasped the doorknob and opened the door. Ginny took a deep breath and stepped into the office of the Demigod Tailor.

  Chapter The Fifth

  Friday, September 25th, 1778

  Someone rapped on the door of the cabin. Urgently, Ginny waved at Ephraim. “Go, look out the window and tell me if there’s a leaf in his hat.”

  Scampering over, Ephraim grabbed ahold of the window sill and bounced up on his tiptoes. Then he dropped back and ran to Ginny.

  “There’s an apple leaf in his hat,” he whispered loudly.

  Ginny let out a sigh of relief. “Good.” She resisted the sudden urge to check her hair and pulled open the door.

  For one moment she saw his blue eyes light up and the next she was tugged into a tight embrace, crushing her against Ethan’s chest. She squeaked in surprise and his grip dropped away, and he stepped back, his face sheepish. “I’m sorry—but I saw the news in the paper. I thought you were dead until I got your message…” Suddenly he paused. “Wait, if the paper said you were dead, why are you not?”

  Ginny blushed. “It’s a… long story.”

  Ethan folded his arms. “You had better start explaining, then.”

  Ginny sighed, stepping back. “If you would come in?”

  He stepped through the door, but when he saw the seven children clustered around Ginny’s chair staring at him with varying expressions of distrust, he stopped in his tracks.

  “…Guinevere?” he questioned.

  Ginny closed the door with a smile. “Line up, please, children.”

  Immediately they lined up by height, save for baby Levi, who was held by Benjamin.

  “Children, meet Captain Ethan Armstrong. Captain Armstrong, meet Benjamin, Simeon, Asher, Ephraim, Reuben, Judah, and Levi,” Ginny introduced politely. Then she turned to the children and said, “Captain Armstrong is a friend. If anything happens to me, you must listen and obey what he says.”

  “Yes, Ginny.” Their heads bobbed obediently.

  Ginny smiled and shooed with her hands. “Good. Run along, but don’t wander far.”

  They rushed out of the cabin like prisoners released from bondage, leaving Ginny and Ethan alone. Ethan raised an eyebrow and gestured for Ginny to begin. She took a deep breath, folded her hands, and fixed her eyes on a knothole in the wall, like a child reciting lessons. The words came slowly and painfully. Finally, she paused and glanced at her companion, awaiting his response.

  Ethan stood tall and stiff. His hands, hanging at his sides, clenched into fists, his knuckles stark and white. He hissed out a breath and appeared to relax, but his eyes were hot and his voice a growl when he spoke. “What happened then?”

  Guinevere smiled slightly. “She miscalculated. Old Isaac is a free man, and he was hired by my father and is loyal to me. He had no reason to obey her order and helped me escape. And I found my way here.”

  Ethan nodded slowly. “And the children…?”

  “Orphans that lost their guardian.” She glanced about the cabin, “I needed a place to stay, and they needed someone to care for them.” Glancing out the window, her smile brightened at the familiar noises of a mess of boys playing. Ethan decided it was a pretty smile, and he liked it very much. “I like it here. I’m… happier, I think, than I have been since Papa went away to war.”

  “I’m glad.” Ethan smiled faintly and tilted his head to one side. Ginny immediately turned the color of June roses and looked away. The captain blinked in surprise, how odd, before sighing heavily, attempting remove the lingering taint of his anger. He took a step towards her and reached out, his fingers gently lifting her chin. “You’re certain you came to no harm?”

  For some reason, she flushed again, and her lashes dropped to cover her brown eyes. Ethan’s heart thumped, and he realized that he was being rather forward. He dropped his arm and stepped back, shoving his hands into his coat’s pockets.

  She shook her head shyly. “I wasn’t hurt.”

  Physically, perhaps, Ethan thought, but he nodded. “I suppose now you’ll stop working with Mr. Culper, Mr. Bolton, and me?”

  Guinevere’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “No? Why would I?”

  “Your mother-in-law tried to kill you!” Exasperation bubbled up in him, and Ethan threw his arms in the air. “You live in a cottage with children. How are you supposed to sp… assist us?”

  Guinevere folded her arms and lifted her chin. “I have my ways.”

  Ethan folded his arms back at her, leaning down and narrowing his eyes. “How?”

  Guinevere dropped her gaze and looked off to the side. “There are secret passages that I can use to enter Grandfather’s house in town, where Mother-in-law often entertains officers. I’ll have plenty of opportunities.”

  “You’re still outside the city,” Ethan protested. “Why do you think the redcoats will let you in?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?” Guinevere shrugged. “I’m just a girl coming to buy and sell and hear the gossip at Maiden Lane.”

  Ethan pressed his lips together and glared. Guinevere glared back. Ethan opened his mouth but shut it again. Truth be told, he had only one objection: it put Guinevere at risk.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, puffing out a breath. “If you truly wish to do this, I will tell Major Tallmadge that you stand ready to continue to assist him.” Dear Lord, let her say no.

  Ginny’s gut twisted. How many times would she come to this crossroads? And every time, it got harder to keep going on. I could say no. I would be in no more danger. I’ve done so much already—surely, I’ve done enough? She shook her head to drive away these thoughts. Is my life so precious that I should stand by when I could help save hundreds? “I am resolved.”

  Ethan muttered ruefully, “I thought as much.” Stepping closer, he took both of Ginny’s hands, enclosing them protectively with his own. A warm tingle spread up her arms, which she tried to ignore. “But if I’m to do this, you must promise me one thing,” he said sternly.

  “Anything,” Ginny replied gravely, meeting his gaze in an attempt to keep her eyes away from his hands around hers.

  “Take no unnecessary risks. You’re much more useful to our cause alive.” The half-grin sneaked reluctantly onto his face. “Besides, who else would give me apples?”

  Ginny laughed, but her face was solemn as she curtsied and said, “I promise.”

  Ethan glanced out the window. “It’s nearly evening—I should go.”

  A rush of disappointment swept through Ginny, which she immediately brushed off as silly. Why would she be disappointed? He never stayed long.

  “There’s one more thing—as far as New York City is concerned, Guinevere Phillips died two weeks ago. You’ll need some other name.”

  “I have thought of that, and the children and I have chosen one.” Guinevere said with a smile, glancing fondly towards the cacophonous noise outside.

  “What is it?” he asked, his eyes lingering on her face.

  Guinevere performed a small curtsy. “Miss Jane Snow, at your service. Or more familiarly, Je
nny Snow.” She grinned. “Ephraim asked if I was a snowman come to life. The littler ones thought that was real and called me Miss Snow for a week.” She shrugged. “I became fond of it, I guess.”

  Ethan nodded.

  “And Jane?”

  “Well, Jane because of Jenny, which sounds like my Papa’s nickname for me, so it will be easy for me to remember.” Her glance strayed out the window, and her eyes were sad.

  Then she turned to him, took his arm and escorted him to the door. Ethan took three steps down the path, paused, and turned back. “What was your Papa’s nickname for you?”

  She looked down at her feet. When she spoke, he could barely hear her. “Ginny. He called me Ginny-girl.”

  The captain titled his head to one side, mulling this over, before grinning as swiftly as a lightning-flash. He bowed comically to make her laugh. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, then, Miss Ginny.”

  Ginny chuckled quietly. “Get up, Ethan. You look like a macaroni—all that is missing is the feather.”

  Ethan laughed back at her, and they stood together on her threshold as the warm September sun shone on Ginny’s hair with a brilliant blue-black luster. Then, suddenly and haltingly at the same time, as if surprised at his own boldness, Ethan reached out and took her hand. Ginny’s breath caught as he placed a gentle kiss on her fingers. “Miss Ginny, in return for your promise, I have a promise to you.” He took her other hand and held both tightly, staring into her eyes. She has very nice eyes, he thought. “I promise, in your father’s memory and for your help, that I shall do all I can to keep you safe.”

  The rose tinge crept out across her cheeks again, and she glanced away shyly. “Thank you. But please—if you should fail, if something happens to me, will you watch over the children for me? They have no one, except for me…”

  “I dearly hope it won’t come to that, but… yes. I will take care of them. They could go stay with my mother—she loves children.” He grinned wistfully, his eyes glancing away north.

  Ginny’s head darted up, and tears of gratitude swam in her eyes. Before she quite knew what she was thinking, she bounced up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek. The next moment she had tugged her hands free from his stupefied grip and fled, slamming the cabin door behind her.

  Ethan stood for another moment, his hand on his cheek as she stared at the closed door. Then he grinned, and strolled off down the path, whistling Barbara Allen horrendously off-tune.

  Ginny leaned against the door and listened to the fading cacophony with a smile on her face.

  Chapter The Sixth

  Thursday, December 31st, 1778

  The lights shone bright in Grandfather’s house, and the distant sounds of music and laughter could be dimly heard. It was New Year’s Eve, and Mother-in-law was hosting a party for His Majesty’s officers, where the alcohol would freely flow, and tongues in the know would be wagging along. Ginny slipped into the alley beside the house. She glanced left and right, once, twice, and then pressed a certain brick.

  A muffled click sounded, and a section of the wall slid in and to one side. Ginny darted in and pressed the spring that closed the door, pausing a moment to listen carefully. Hearing no other sounds within the passages, she proceeded to silently sneak along the tight pathways in the direction of the merriment.

  She lurked by the spy holes, only gleaning gossip until time came for the women to withdraw. Ginny, however, remained, putting her eye to the spy hole—and realized Major Andre, now the British Commander-in-Chief’s deputy Adjutant General (and, rumor stated, soon to be placed in charge of British Intelligence), was standing not three feet away.

  She smiled. Providence favored her tonight.

  Another officer (a captain, she thought) walked up, clinking his glass of brandy against the Major’s.

  “A Happy New Year to you, Major, and congratulations on your recent appointment.”

  Major Andre smiled and tipped back some of the red liquid. “Thank you, Captain Garrett, and the same to you. I trust it will be much more profitable than the last. In fact,” he grinned sloppily0 and lifted his glass in a quiet toast. “A toast to home—may we celebrate the next New Year there.”

  Garrett raised an eyebrow. “How likely is that, do you suppose?”

  “Very likely,” Andre said with widened smile. “We should be back home for the spring flowers.”

  Ginny caught her breath and leaned closer.

  “Oh?” Garrett’s other eyebrow shot up. Taking ahold of his arm, Andre dragged Garrett closer to the wall (and, coincidentally, to Ginny).

  “You mustn’t repeat a word,” Major Andre whispered, just loud enough that Ginny could hear, “but I shall tell you—in the strictest confidentiality, you understand—that the Higher Ups have a plan to capture or kill some of the more influential generals among the rebels, including Washington and Livingston, by the time the month is out.”

  Ginny slapped a hand to her mouth.

  “Goodness!” the Captain’s voice rose. Major Andre’s hand flew up.

  “Hush! You can’t trust everyone, you know. I suspect the rebels have infiltrated our ranks some way.”

  Garrett lifted his hand in a sloppy salute. “You can trust me, Major.”

  Andre grinned and slapped his shoulder, downing the rest of his brandy. Ginny wondered how many he had already consumed to be this loose-lipped. “Good man. Come on, I’m out of this excellent brandy, and I’ve yet to toast the health of His Majesty.”

  Garrett nodded solemnly. “Since it’s such excellent brandy, perhaps we should toast the entire royal family.”

  Andre smiled the grin of an inebriated man. “I like the way you think, Garrett. Come!”

  They wandered across the room with wavering steps, leaving Ginny with a hand clasped against her mouth. She sank to the dusty floor, her other hand pressing against her thumping heart.

  The Higher Ups have a plan to capture some of the more influential generals by the time the month is out.

  It was too late to try to leave the city without raising questions, so she spent the night curled up in a warm spot near the kitchens. She didn’t know how she was supposed to sleep, for Major Andre’s words spun around her head like the fancy minuets that had played all night. Then she closed her eyes, and the next moment she was opening them to the sound of the kitchens in the morning. She slipped out of the passages, lifted the hood of her cloak against the chill wind, and hurried away.

  She was supposed to meet Ethan tonight. She needed to hurry to have her report ready in time.

  Ethan didn’t come.

  She paced back and forth for three hours in the little clearing where they met, until it was quite dark.

  “He has to come! What will I do if he doesn’t? He must! He must! Oh, Lord, why doesn’t he come?”

  She sank to the ground at the foot of a tree and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “Whatever shall I do now?”

  The answer was obvious, of course, and she shivered. Every time she ventured into the city, she risked running into someone she knew from her old life. Everyone thought she was dead—if someone recognized her, she would have trouble making an excuse.

  Even worse, what if Mother-in-law recognized her? If an acquaintance saw her, it would be dangerous. If Mother-in-law discovered her, it would be deadly.

  But there was nothing for it. Major Tallmadge needed to know, and Ethan hadn’t come. She got to her feet, her heart sinking down to her buckled shoes.

  She had preparations to make before going to speak to Mr. Mulligan.

  Monday, January 4th, 1779

  She took a deep breath. Remember, you belong here. You’re by rights wealthier than most--act like you belong, and no one will notice anything.

  Ginny let out her breath slowly, lifted her chin and stepped around the corner. She sauntered casually down the wooden sidewalk, idly looking in the shop windows, a basket hanging from her arm. Up ahead hung the needle and thread sign with the words Mulligan—Tailo
r.

  She stepped up to the door, hesitated, and pushed it open to the merry jingle of a bell.

  Inside, the pale January sunlight slipped in the windows illuminating the shop, and she sighed in relief when she realized it was empty. Well, except for Cato, who sat cross-legged on a window seat, busily sewing at a red coat. At the sight of the crimson fabric, Ginny gulped and strove to keep her face calm.

  “Good morning, miss. How might I help you?” Cato said, smiling.

  Ginny smiled back. On Saturday, she had sneaked into Grandfather’s house and reclaimed one of her nice outfits. With her hair styled as nicely as possible with only Asher’s help (the boy had nimble fingers) and fancy clothes, it appeared she bore small resemblance to the little servant girl Cato had met before.

  “I have an order, for a going-away present for a dear friend of mine.”

  “We are here to help, Miss. What is it you require?” Cato said with a dip of his head and a smile. Ginny reached into her basket, holding out a piece of paper containing her order.

  “Three white cotton handkerchiefs, five silk ones, and five with linen.”

  Cato took it, glanced at the paper, and looked up at Ginny, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

  Ginny smiled sweetly. “Is that acceptable?

  “Of course, miss,” Cato said, standing swiftly and bowing slightly. “If you would permit me to go check with my master? —”

  Ginny gave him a dismissive wave, and he disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving Ginny alone. She kept her face calm, but inside she was smiling with smug satisfaction that her signal worked. She had written her order in a list from top to bottom, and subtly underlined the numbers. Most would think the lines existed merely for clarity.

  She glanced around, hoping she was hiding her nervousness as well as she thought she was. She would have preferred to go to the servant’s entrance again, but she wanted to avoid notice. Servants talked, and if they started whispering about strange servant girls that appeared every so often at Hercules Mulligan’s back door and was shut up with him in his office… it wouldn’t turn out well. While this way felt more exposed, it was safer.