The Second War of Rebellion

by Katie Hanrahan

  * * *

  The chaos that enveloped the Powell home prevented Maddie from giving further consideration to her situation. Too much had to be done to pack up Mariah’s possessions, her husband’s effects, and baby Wellie’s belongings. Laborers tramped in and out of the house to load wagons that would take Mariah and her husband to their own home, purchased with prize money from confiscated merchant ships carrying contraband. Through it all, Lt. Cummings supervised as if he were commanding at sea, while Mariah fretted over delicate china and crystal. Maddie’s task was to keep Wellie out of the way so that he would not be crushed underfoot during the relocation that seemed more like an army camp on the move.

  The baby fell asleep on a blanket under the trees behind the house. In the quiet of the back garden, Maddie wondered who was her ally and who might turn on her if she rebelled. She was startled out of her study by Edmund, flushed and in shirtsleeves, who spread himself out in the shade next to his nephew.

  “I am spent, Maddie,” he said. “They have no more to shift than the equivalent of the Admiral’s possessions in his cabin, and we can strip his quarters in twenty minutes time. This has been going on for days.”

  “Poor boy, you are dripping wet,” she said. Beads of sweat fell from the ends of his disheveled blond hair, to fall onto the shirt that was sticking to his skin. His brother Jeremy was supposed to be helping, but the boy had made himself scarce when the heavy lifting began.

  “I say, a man should become engaged and then engage a residence prior to the wedding,” Edmund said.

  “Or find a wife with a fully furnished house,” Maddie said. “Efficiency. We must strive to follow such an excellent suggestion.”

  “Let us make a pact,” Edmund said. “And save ourselves the exhaustion. The happy couple is less than felicitous at the moment.”

  “Where is my place, I wonder,” Maddie said. “Some days I feel as though I am all at sea.”

  “How difficult it must be for a girl. Every suitor represents not just a husband, but a home, where you must reside. Do you consider that? I know I would. After all, a man must leave his family when he weds, but he does not have to be far removed from them if he so chooses. But the wife. Bound to follow wherever he may lead.”

  “Yes, to an extent, but I think more on the Admiral’s future, which I believe must be tied to mine.”

  “Not many men will accept another man into the family,” Edmund said. He propped himself up on his elbow, his gaze on the sleeping infant. “I imagine you have encountered some resistance to the suggestion. If you have dared to broach it.”

  “Oh my, Eddie, I am not so well acquainted with other gentlemen just yet.”

  “So you plan to capture a heart before revealing your true intentions?” His grin was full of mischief. “I would do a great service for these unwary suitors if I made the stipulation known to them before they proceeded too far.”

  “Have no fear of that, because my marriage contract will frighten off more men than the threat of the Admiral’s residency.”

  “Any man who would reject you because of financial arrangements that are of benefit to you is not worthy of your hand.”

  “You say that because you are kindness itself, Eddie, and you are not one to grasp for wealth.”

  “Neither am I a peer of the realm.”

  “Then you are more fortunate than I.”

  “It means nothing to you?”

  “It means, Edmund Powell, that I am thoroughly American and will never change my rebel’s spots.”

  “Nor should you.”

  “I will not.”

  “Good.”

  “Well and good.” The sorrow that she had tamped down burst out before Maddie could stop it. “My grandfather is dying, Eddie.”

  “You have been a credit to him during your time here,” he said. “Take comfort in that. There is little enough comfort to be found at such a time. I should be loathe to tell my grandfather of the grave illness of his dear friend from Charleston.”

  “To think that I shall never see him again,” Maddie said. The baby stirred, a reminder of life’s continuity that struck Maddie a heavy blow. “We cannot part in this way, not the way I left without realizing what it meant.”

  Edmund turned onto his back and folded his arms behind his head. “We do not wish to be apart, but still the ocean rolls between us,” he murmured.

  “An ocean can be crossed.”

  “Yes, it shall be.”

  His slight smile matched the curl in Wellie’s lips, as if they were both dreaming happy dreams. Leaving Edmund to a well-deserved nap, Maddie carefully lifted the baby and went off in search of Mariah. She had taken a chance and confided in Eddie, and he had proved to be a true friend. Before, she was not certain that returning to Charleston to bid proper farewells to her family was the best idea, but Edmund had agreed that she should set sail. The question remained, however, as to how she would accomplish such an undertaking.

  Travel cost money, of which Maddie had none at hand. Neither could she ask for funds outright, because Lawrence would straightaway deny her request. She was trapped, as penniless as any pauper, with fine clothes and a few jewels that she could not sell without someone getting wind of it and informing the Ashfords. It was not until Maddie was back at Farthingmill Abbey in July, making her rounds of charity calls, when she realized that her only choice was to give alms to herself.

  Taking stock a month later, Maddie counted up next to nothing. She found it impossible to withhold so much as a penny from those who were in need. Broken-down sailors, widows with young children, or a tenant too ill to work could not be left to fend for themselves so that she could buy passage to Charleston. Like a starving wretch she watched slips of paper change hands when the yearlings were sold, promises of money that she would never be able to touch. What was hers were the scraps tossed her way by Mr. Turner, which she in turn was expected to distribute to others. Her longing to see her grandfather one more time, to kiss her grandmother’s papery cheek, went unmet.

  An outlandish idea popped into her head, that she might sell off her gelding and pretend it had run away. She asked Nipper to saddle the horse, calculating the worth of the tack, but he turned the chore over to the under groom. When Maddie frowned at him, he winked back. “The book seller from London has a package for you, I hear,” Nipper said. “But he expects immediate payment. I can ride to London any time you like.”

  In her excitement, Maddie rode ahead of the groom, forgetting that his injuries continued to plague him and prevent him from getting a firm grip on the reins of his mount. She reined in her horse when she arrived at the copse near the river, a secluded spot that was safe from prying eyes. She waited, pacing, and when the groom finally caught up to her, she almost ripped off his good hand in her haste to snatch up the bound pamphlet he retrieved from the waist of his trousers.

  The letter from Stephen was short and devoid of any news at all. Maddie examined both sides of the single sheet, as if by turning the paper she could make words appear, but nothing changed. “Meet me at the East India docks, London, approximately 27 September. Wait for arrival of USS Ariadne under my command,” she read aloud. Turning to Nipper, she said, “You have wanted to return to South Carolina for a good many years.”

  “Not with such longing, miss, that I would abandon you here,” he said.

  “Are you ready to return?” she asked.

  “Are you?”