She stepped off the bench and looked up at the curtain. It was not only useful, but it looked nice.
Why had Amelia not arrived?
No matter. Heather could manage it herself. She pushed the bench to the next window and grabbed the next folded curtain and climbed back up on the bench. She slid each loop onto the pole and raised it far above her head to place it on the wooden bracket, attempting to smooth it out as she went. Her arms were tiring, but only a few loops were left.
Had a cloud hidden the sunlight? It had grown so dark so fast.
She sank into the darkness.
“Ma’am, are you ill?”
Heather’s eyes opened slowly. A stranger’s face hovered not even a foot above hers. His pale blue eyes were wide with concern. What appeared to be an old scar ran across his cheek.
She moaned, startled and acutely aware of a throbbing pain in the back of her head. The man leaned over her prone body and took one of her hands.
“Be still, ma’am. You have had a fall.”
She pulled her hand from his and placed it on her belly. “I ... I beg your pardon, sir, but who are you?”
“Forgive me.” He rocked back on his heels. “I rode by and noticed the cart. Then I spotted you in the window as you fell. I came in to be of assistance.” He reached for her hand and placed his other hand behind her back. “Do you think you can sit up?”
“Aye, I think so.”
“Here, let me help you.” He drew her to a sitting position. “Are you in any pain?”
She rubbed the sore spot on her head. “I will likely have a lump.” But her child. Her child.
As if summoned, the babe moved in her belly. Thank God. “Other than that, and my pride, I believe I am fine.”
He helped her to sit on the bench, then stepped back, watching her.
“I do not believe we have met. I am Heather Stewart. Are you from around here?”
“I am passing through. Are you dizzy or faint?”
“Nay, nay. Just a little pain. I’m grateful, Mr. ...”
“Cranford, John Cranford.”
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Cranford. I am grateful you were here. I am expecting a friend to arrive at any moment to help. Perhaps I should not have been trying to hang the curtains by myself.”
His eyes shifted to the door, then back to her. “Would you like me to assist you with the curtains?”
“Nay, but I appreciate the kind offer.” She rubbed the bump on the back of her head again. It was pounding in rhythm with her pulse. “Perhaps I will head home. I do not live far from here.”
“I will be on my way if you think you can make it home without my aid.” He walked with an odd gait to the door and glanced to the left and right before turning and facing her again.
“I do appreciate your aid, Mr. Cranford.” She got up from the bench and followed him as far as the doorway. Though her hip and shoulder would be bruised tomorrow, her fall could have been much worse.
Mr. Cranford’s reddish blond hair glistened in the sunlight before he placed his hat back on his head and headed toward a large chestnut horse. The man walked with a definite limp.
She lifted the crumpled curtain from the floor and folded it, then prepared to head home. The rickety sound of a buggy caught her attention. That had to be Amelia. Still a bit shaky, Heather watched from the doorway.
Amelia jumped from the buggy. “Have you been here long, Heather? I needed to find Cole before I left home.” She stopped as she neared the door, carrying an armful of fabric. “What is wrong? You look so pale. Come sit down.”
“’Tis my own fault.” She told Amelia what happened.
“How awful. Are you hurt? You should not have started without me, especially with the baby—”
“Nay, I am not hurt, and the wee one is as active as ever.”
“I am so sorry I am later than expected. I let you down.”
“Please do not fret, Amelia. A gentleman happened to be passing by and came in and gave me assistance.”
“A gentleman passing by? Who would be passing by here?”
“No one I have ever met before. A Mr. Cranford.”
“This is not a thoroughfare to anywhere. What did he look like?”
“He had fair skin, reddish blond hair, blue eyes ... oh, and he had a scar on his right cheek. A well-mannered man and finely dressed.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Perhaps ten minutes.”
“He left you here alone, without escorting you home?”
“He offered to help me, but I assured him I needed no assistance. Why all the questions?”
“Why would anyone be riding by the schoolhouse, particularly someone who is not from around here? ’Tis well off the main path.”
“He did not indicate his intent.” Her headache had subsided a little, and she had no desire to come back to the schoolhouse another time. “Come inside, stop asking questions, and help me finish hanging these curtains. I told Polly I would not be gone long.”
“Are you sure you are well enough?” A playful smile emerged on Amelia’s face as they made their way to the bench. “Perhaps your mysterious stranger was an angel.”
“Now you sound like you are the one who fell and hit her head.”
Within a half hour, they were laughing and admiring their handiwork. They moved the bench back to its original spot.
Amelia laughed. “Why did we not think to do this before? The additional windows for added light, and now the curtains, make it look less like a barn.”
“’Tis such an improvement. The wood stove took a long time to heat this large room in the colder months. I am certain Mr. Martin will be pleased.”
“Do you want me to follow you home, Heather?”
“Nay. I am fine.”
“Very well. Please promise me you will let us know if you need anything.”
“I will. Matthew should be back within a fortnight.”
Amelia grinned and climbed up on her buggy as Heather got in her cart to start the ride home.
“Be sure and tell me if your angel returns,” Amelia called. “Mysterious strangers fascinate me.”
The moment Heather walked through the door, Douglas ran into her outstretched arms.
Polly looked up and smiled from where she worked at the kitchen table.
“I planned to be home before this, Polly, but it took longer than expected. You would not believe what an improvement the curtains make to that large, drafty room.” She kissed her son and through the window spotted Thomas and Todd near the barn.
Polly placed filled jugs to weigh down the vegetables soaking in the brine. “I will look forward to checking your handiwork at the schoolhouse on Sunday after services.”
Heather set Douglas down. “When Todd took the horse and cart, he said a couple of guests arrived earlier, and another man came by but did not stay.”
“The couple came about a half hour after you left. I put them upstairs in the blue room. The husband is not well, suffering from gout, I believe. I told them we would bring their supper up later if they wished.”
“We can certainly do that.” She smiled at Philip and made her way to where the boys had been playing on the floor. “What have we here?”
“I showed Douglas how to play marbles.” Philip’s contagious grin brought on a smile.
“It was kind of Philip to play with you, Douglas.” She tousled her son’s blond curls. The boy’s attention was on Philip’s next shot.
“It appears I did not get back in time to help you very much with the preserving, Polly. You are almost done. You have even boiled the jars.”
“Laura slept, so I had little interruption. But I will go feed her now.”
“By all means.” She put on her apron and took a jug of cider off one of the larder shelves.
Thomas came through the door with Todd on his heels. He wiped his hands on a towel before tossing it to Todd. Thomas sat at the table and perused the Gazette. “We finished the roof over the well.”
<
br /> “Many thanks,” Heather said. “I need to get a bucket of water, so I will go admire your handiwork.” She set six cups on the table and filled them with cider. “Philip, Douglas, there is cider here for you.”
“Todd,” Thomas said, “go get the water for Mrs. Stewart. She does not need to be carrying heavy buckets.”
“Yes, Pa.” He walked back out the door.
Thomas took a long drink of the amber liquid. “I figure tomorrow the boys and I will get back to work on the stone wall. We might even get it done before Matthew returns. Polly tell you we have guests?”
“Aye.” She cracked some eggs and measured flour and other ingredients into a bowl before stirring the batter.
“They brought a couple of Gazettes. Apparently, a mob broke into the magazine in Williamsburg and carried off a significant number of guns.” Thomas went over to the sideboard and picked up another paper. “Governor Dunmore has abandoned the capitol. He has taken refuge on one of His Majesty’s ships.”
“Oh, my. And Lady Dunmore and their children, what has become of them?”
“They are all gone. Lord Dunmore remains anchored at Yorktown, but the article suggests his family has sailed for England. If Lord Dunmore has abandoned his post, the Royal government in Virginia has come to an end.” Thomas put the paper down.
She stopped stirring, stunned. “Who will govern the colony?”
“The people, I imagine, unless we appoint our own governor.”
Todd returned with the bucket, which he placed on a nearby counter.
“Son, you said another gent came by but chose not to stay. Did he say why?”
“He asked for Mr. Stewart.”
She looked up from her preparations. “Who was it, Todd?”
“Never saw him before, and I would have remembered him. Sure had a big chestnut horse with the prettiest flaxen mane and tail.”
Heather removed the wooden spoon from the batter and stared at the adolescent. “The man, what did he look like? How was he dressed?”
“Dressed like a gentleman, but I had my doubts about the fellow, ’cause he looked like he might have been in a fight some time back.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, he walked strange, like his leg hurt. And he had a scar on his face.”
A chill traveled up her spine. “And you say this man asked for Mr. Stewart by name?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She returned to stirring the batter for the corn fritters. He had to be the same man who’d rendered her assistance at the schoolhouse. What did John Cranford want with Matthew, and why had he not said something to her at the schoolhouse?
CHAPTER 10
Matthew brought the wagon around to the back of the Duncan home in Alexandria, and Adam came through the service yard waving. “You got here in good time. I can see to the horses after we let Maggie know you have arrived. The wagon and trunks will be secure in the barn overnight unless you need them.”
Mark hopped off the wagon while Matthew assisted Mary down. When she was settled, he turned to shake Adam’s hand. “Good to see you, my friend. We will not need the trunks, just the portmanteaus.” He handed a crate of produce to Mark, lifted the bags, and preceded Adam into the house.
Inside, Maggie gave them each a hug. “You look grand, children. I know you must be excited about your summer in Philadelphia.”
Mary looked around the kitchen and smiled when Jean entered. “Yes, we are.”
Adam looked worn out. “I will be in shortly.”
Matthew pointed to the crate that Mark had set on the table. “Something from the farm. Heather sends her love.”
Maggie’s eyes had dark circles underneath, and her ready smile was absent. “How kind, and is Heather faring well? I know you were worried about her fainting, but there’s no need. ’Tis not that unusual in her condition.”
“Aye, she’s faring very well, though I’m certain she’ll miss the children.”
Maggie rummaged through the crate. “Bless her. Heather has included some herbs I don’t grow. Go get settled, everyone. We will have dinner in about an hour.”
Matthew glanced at the children as Cameron and William lured Mark to the service yard. Jean and Mary disappeared upstairs. “I’m going out to see Adam.”
In the barn, the men rubbed down the horses. Matthew didn’t ask, but it was clear that something was troubling his old friend. After what Heather had told him, he feared he knew what it was.
After a few minutes, Adam said, “Donald joined the militia ... He left a week ago. And Maggie is distraught.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“The three of us quarreled when the boy first brought it up, but after listening to his reasoning, I could no longer argue with him.”
Matthew put his hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Donald is a fine young man and not one to act on impulse.”
“Aye, he is a good boy, and I’m proud of him. But ’tis not setting right with Maggie.”
“Women view these things differently, my friend. Maggie is a sensible woman. She may need some time to work through it, but I suspect she will come around.”
“We shall see. But since she is not inclined to talk about it yet, the children keep quiet on the subject. Oh, Cameron will ask me questions, but only when we are alone.”
“I won’t bring it up.”
When they gathered for dinner, Matthew sat beside Mark. He suspected that Cameron had filled Mark in on Donald’s absence, but if he had not, Mark was likely to bring it up. Matthew looked around at the faces. The tension was discernible. What could he say or do to ease their distress?
After the blessing, food was passed around the table.
The boys’ conversation was animated, quite a contrast to the serious look on Mary’s face. No doubt the girls had also discussed Donald’s departure.
Planting and the children’s visit to Philadelphia dominated the discourse. Matthew watched Adam’s eyes scan his family. Surely they would not get through the meal ignoring Donald’s absence.
William addressed what no one else would. “Uncle Matt, Donald left. He went away to fight the redcoats.” Leave it to a five-year-old.
Silence as the young people’s glances went from Maggie to Adam.
Maggie’s eyes teared, and Adam cleared his throat.
When Mark’s eyes widened, Matthew placed his hand on the boy’s thigh.
Maggie got up. “I shall fetch the bread pudding.” She stepped through the door and into the kitchen.
Silence settled on the group like a cloud until Cameron leaned toward Adam. “Does this mean we can talk about Donald now?”
“Aye.” Maggie stood in the doorway holding a large bowl and looking like a ewe fending off a wolf from her young. “’Tis no secret, our Donald has joined the militia. He is off somewhere training.”
Mark looked as if he was unsure how to react.
Jean and Mary were seated beside each other. Mary’s eyes were cast down, and her arm extended toward Jean’s lap, where he suspected they were holding hands.
“Donald has a good mind and heart,” Matthew said. “I’m sure he gave this decision much thought. Our family will keep him and all the other young men who join him in the pursuit of liberty in our prayers.”
Maggie sighed. She still wore her heartache like a veil. “We appreciate that.” She set the pudding on the table and dished portions. With each spoonful, the tension eased.
Adam poured more water. “I’m going down to the wharf after dinner to do some work for William Ramsey.”
Matthew nodded. “I will go part way with you. I have a couple of errands myself.” At their earlier meeting, he had arranged to meet Stephens at a townhouse on Princess Street to work out some details regarding his initial meeting with the Ferguson family. He reached the house around four, but Stephens was not there, so he left a note with the housekeeper specifying where he was staying and telling the woman about his early departure the following morning. He returned to t
he Duncan home. Would Stephens get back to him in time, or would his time in Philadelphia be a lost opportunity? Part of him hoped for the latter, hoped to still avoid getting pulled into the conflict.
Shortly after eight o’clock, a stocky man came to the Duncan home asking for Matthew. When Adam asked him inside, the man declined. Matthew excused himself and walked out to where the man was pacing on the cobblestone street.
“Mr. Stewart?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Stephens is in a coach around the corner on Fairfax Street.” The man headed off in the opposite direction and sat on a bench in the next block.
Matthew looked back at the Duncan home. Should he let them know he would be gone a while? No, questions might be asked. It was dusk by the time he got to the coach.
Stephens opened the door. “Glad I caught you before you left town.”
“I presume that was your driver who came to the house.”
“Yes. I will not take much of your time. Listen carefully. Go to Philadelphia, stay at the Davis Inn on Chestnut Street, and send a note to Henry Ferguson telling him that you are in Philadelphia for a week and that you want to make contact with him and his family while you are in town. Whatever reason you devise for your visit, make it one that will facilitate you returning later in the summer so you can tentatively make plans to meet again.”
“A week? I had not planned to be gone that long.”
“It may not take a week, but you need time to accommodate the Fergusons’ social schedule. Ingratiate yourself with them. It may get you invited to a social function where their Tory or English officer friends will be present.”
Matthew sighed. “Do you really think that British Regulars are going to share secrets at parties with strangers?”
“Of course not. But one never knows what might be useful.” Stephens pulled a packet out of his coat pocket. “Deliver this to Henry Ferguson.”
“And?”
“That is all. But as I indicated, try to set the stage for a meeting later in the summer. Then return to Alexandria and contact me at the house on Princess Street. We will assess your time in Philadelphia and determine what is next at that time. Take care to keep your plans to yourself.”
A Heart for Freedom: He longs for freedom, but won’t risk the lives of those he loves. Page 7