by Jo Goodman
"I doubt if he would do anything if he knew. He grovels at their feet in his own way. Neither Louise nor John seemed concerned that battle lines are being drawn all over the islands. I can scarce credit that she wants to have this August affair. It seems in very poor taste."
"Cheer up, love. It's some three weeks hence. Perhaps the redcoats will have been routed by that time and we won't have to attend."
Or I may be in Virginia, she thought sadly. She no longer was certain of the wiser course, but it occupied her mind many hours after her husband had fallen asleep.
Salem was out of the house when she awoke and never returned for the afternoon meal. Ashley fretted most of the time he was away, convinced at one moment he was arranging her transport to the landing, in the next that he was arranging for her protection. Courtney seemed to sense her mother's preoccupation, and the babe fussed whenever Ashley held her. Finally Meg begged her to leave the nursery and find something to occupy herself. Ashley spent most of the afternoon in the library, reading from the same page of Thomas Paine's Common Sense.
Salem found her there when he came home. Her concentration was so deep that he stood in the doorway for several minutes before she noticed him. It had taken him only half that long to know she hadn't read so much as a sentence. Looking at her now, features soft in the waning evening light, ebony lashes fanning her cheeks, he knew his decision was one he could live with. He would have to. It was the thought of being separated from her that filled him with dread.
Her smile welcomed him as he crossed the room to her side. He dropped a kiss on her upturned lips and sat on the cool marble apron of the fireplace, stretching out his long legs in front of him. He was not proof against the anxious, expectant look on Ashley's face, and he plunged in.
"I've arranged for your protection."
Ashley closed her eyes briefly in thanks, certain Salem's decision meant he was not afraid of betraying himself through her. "I'm very happy. May I know what has been done?"
"For your own safety there have to be rules attached to this arrangement. My friends and I have agreed on what they should be. This house will be watched by them at all times, but you must never leave unexpectedly. If you would plan your day with me in the morning, then I can advise them."
"You are sounding ever so mysterious, Salem. Who are these friends of yours?"
"It is better if you know nothing about them, Ashley. I don't want them following you closely or making their presence obvious. Flannigan will notice and think of some way to get around them. They will stay very much in the background, ever watchful if he should try to accost you. Naturally we hope to find Flannigan soon."
"Well, I didn't much like the idea of someone living in my pocket."
"I didn't think you would. But you must remain cautious and make no unexpected excursions. I don't want you going for a stroll in our own yard without planning it with me. Someone in the house, Meg if you wish it, must know where you are at all times. I want no repeats of an innocent stroll to the stables and have no one miss you for hours. Even when I am with you at least one of them will be near. Can you tolerate the restrictions on your time and freedom?"
"Yes. It is the merest inconvenience. I was willing to put up with much more in order to stay. How many of your friends are part of this scheme?"
"Enough."
"Do I know them?"
"Ashley, don't press," he warned. "It is enough that you know you are safe while they are around."
"Very well." She realized she had to be satisfied.
In the first days of the arrangement she came to understand the wisdom of it. If Salem had pointed out her protectors she knew she would have given them away at the outset. As it was she tried hard not to purposely look for them. Every time she went out she held herself in check not to glance over her shoulder or peer past her reflection in a shopkeeper's window. Eventually she all but forgot about the men watching her steps, and as July's humidity gave way to a dry August heatwave, Ashley began to think Flannigan was a mere vision conjured by her terror.
Salem was of much the same opinion as the weeks passed, and neither he nor Ashley's guardians could find any clue of the man's whereabouts. He worried that the watchdogs would have to return to their rightful place under Washington's command before they had caught Flannigan. That they had been allowed to leave the battlements and redoubts at all was a personal favor granted by Washington because of his long friendship with the McClellans. Salem had no wish to take advantage of it. Meg fluttered around Ashley, straightening a pink satin ribbon, reworking a raven curl, while Courtney crawled around her mother's skirt and played peekaboo with her kid slippers. Ashley would lift her gown and allow the baby to hide under the petticoats while she asked, "Where's Courtney?" This game much amused her daughter and distressed her maid.
"Don't take on so, Meg. I think I shall do well enough. Louise Bennington will not thank you for making me too pretty."
"That one can't hold a candle to you and well she knows it. All the same I would rather you didn't have the little one's paw prints all over the hem of your gown."
Ashley laughed.
Salem came into the chamber, looking very much the thing in his pewter breeches and waistcoat. His shoes sported a silver buckle, and a black velvet ribbon held back his dark hair. He frowned, glancing around the room. "Where is Courtney? I want to kiss her goodnight before we leave."
Ashley pointed to the ten pink toes that were all anyone could see.
Salem grinned. "There have been occasions I've thought of hiding there myself."
Meg laughed while Ashley chastized him. "I beg you, not in front of the child, Jerusalem. It is hardly becoming." She lifted her skirts primly to reveal her daughter and a goodly expanse of finely curved leg.
Salem took delight in the view until he saw the pistol strapped just above her knee. He sucked in his breath sharply, begging for calm reason to see him through this. God only knew how many times she had left the house dressed in such a manner. He plucked Courtney from the floor and made a show of tossing her in the air. "Have you told your mother how crackbrained she is to carry a weapon. No? That is very bad of you, poppet. Tell her to be rid of it, else we will not leave. And if I see it again I shall turn her over my knee." Courtney chortled. "Darling, did you hear that? I think she said something."
"Only in your dreams, dear." She sighed, reluctantly removing the heavy piece and handing it to a sputtering Meg. "Don't worry. It isn't primed. There never seemed to be time to learn." She picked up a loosely woven shawl from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. She pressed her finger against Courtney's little dimple as Salem laid her on their bed. "Be good, darling. If she gets fussy, Meg, just rub a little brandy on her gums." She would have given out more advice, things Meg knew well enough, if Salem hadn't been urging her toward the hallway. By the time she and Salem reached the Bennington's massive stone house on Long Island, Ashley had thought of at least three more directives for Meg.
"You aren't usually so fretful, Ashley," Salem said as they entered the Bennington's spacious ballroom.
"No. I suspect I didn't really want to leave her tonight." She paused beside Salem on the edge of the room, nearly overwhelmed by the size of the gathering. On tiptoe she whispered in her husband's ear. "I think the whole of Howe's thirty thousand must be here."
The doors leading to the veranda were opened wide. Many people had already spilled out onto the lighted lawn. Musicians were playing a lively country tune, and brilliant red coats were highly visible among the dancers. Salem effectively hid his distaste from everyone but Ashley. She had no problem feeling the tightening of his hand on her waist. "I suppose we must get the pleasantries done. John and Louise are over there by the window. Shall we?"
"Most certainly."
For all that Ashley questioned Louise Bennington's motives, there was no doubt she was a gracious hostess. She welcomed Ashley and Salem warmly, asked genuinely interested questions about their daughter, and bid them have an
entertaining evening. John, rather husky and hearty, especially when compared to his wife's svelte sophistication, kissed Ashley's hand with more enthusiasm than she would have wished and questioned Salem about his business.
After being introduced to several of the Benningtons' honored guests, Ashley found herself whisked away from her husband when the officers asked her to dance. She went through five parmers before she lost count. It seemed hours before she was able to prettily plead exhaustion and beg some refreshment. Louise found her a few moments later amid a group of bright red coats, denying she could ever drink so much as each man held out a glass of punch to her. Ashley was ever grateful for Mrs. Bennington's timely arrival and rescue.
"Think nothing of it," Louise said. She tapped Ashley's wrist with the tip of her fan. "I could hardly have every man here paying court to you. It was bound to raise eyebrows." She could hardly credit Ashley's blush. The girl seemed a veritable innocent at these gatherings. Clearly Ashley had no eyes for anyone but her husband. What a pity Salem returned his wife's regard. "I'm only teasing, dear. I came to tell you that your presence has been requested in the arbor, and I am to say nothing more. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised." She tapped Ashley's wrist again and waltzed away, joining the circle of guests Ashley had left.
Bewildered by Louise's message Ashley glanced about the room. Obviously Salem had had a talk with the hostess since he was nowhere to be seen. How romantic of him, she thought, to choose the arbor. A smile of delight curved her lips as she gave her glass to a footman and wended her way through the guests. On the veranda she scarcely paused to talk, eager to reach the trysting place.
She walked across the lawn in the direction of the orchard, having no regrets about leaving the nonsensical chatter and flirting behind. She breathed deeply, enjoying the fragrance of the night air, the sweetness that had nothing to do with perfumes and colognes, the stillness that had everything to do with nature's peace. A full moon lent its silver light to her path, guiding her way to the vine-covered latticework.
"Salem?" There was no reply. She called his name several more times while she looked around, paying close attention to the peculiar shapes of the trees in the orchard. A shudder ran through her when she realized how far she had come from the house. "Don't tease, Salem. Oh, this is very bad of you. I am going back to the party." She turned on her heel.
"I always thought you the most ill-mannered chit. It would appear that hasn't changed. A pity Nigel never sent you to school as I begged him to do."
Ashley was so startled by the voice she scarcely heard the words. She had no difficulty recognizing the coldly cultured accents of Davinia Grant. There was a slight rasp in Davinia's voice that she did not remember. In the shadows of the arbor this new huskiness had a vague quality of menace.
"Davinia! How did you come to be here?"
Lady Grant stepped into the light. Her pale hair was piled high and glittered with spangles that dusted each layer of curls. Her alabaster complexion glowed whitely, and the lustrous seed pearls in her gown shimmered as she moved. Her mouth was only a dark slash against her pale face, and when she spoke one hand went to her throat in an unconscious gesture that was almost protective. She fingered the lace that obscured most of the slender length of her neck.
"I suppose I must answer your tiresome questions if I am ever to get to my own business," she drawled. "I am the Benningtons' guest, of course. I'm afraid I tore the hem of my dress just as you came in. My husband escorted me to one of the bedrooms to make repairs."
Ashley was certain Davinia's timely departure was no accident. For reasons of her own she hadn't wanted to be seen until she could have the upper hand. "Then you are here with your husband. How very nice for you." Ashley hoped her tone held the right amount of polite scorn as she struggled to maintain her wits. "Have you finished with the duke?"
Davinia's eyes glittered. "Don't play the innocent. It no longer suits you. You must know Nigel is dead."
Ashley was completely caught off balance by this news. She sat on the cool wrought-iron bench. "But I did not know. How could I? Who would think to tell me? Who knows where I am?"
"I imagined his solicitors would look for you. You are an heiress now."
Ashley could not take it in. Lost in her shocked thoughts she simply shook her head slowly from side to side. "It is unbelievable."
"That you are an heiress? I should say so. I can't think of a more unlikely owner of Linfield House than Nigel's bastard niece."
"I was not talking about my inheritance, Davinia," Ashley said sharply, gathering her composure. "I can hardly believe that Nigel is dead. I rather thought he would live forever." She paused, thoughtful. "He told you about my mother, then. Somehow I didn't think he would."
Davinia did not feel the need to relate that Nigel had been near out of his head with anger at the time. "He told me a great many confidences, Ashley. The one I found particularly interesting was how you had married your own brother."
"You would, Davinia. However, Nigel could not have been more wrong. Salem is not even remotely related to me. If you were thinking to pinch my purse by holding that bit of nonsense over my head it has come to naught."
Davinia's pale brows raised a notch as she seated herself beside Ashley. "I believe I was wrong in my first estimation of you, Ashley. It would appear you have become even ruder since coming to this barbaric land. But you are wrong. I have no intention of pursuing this matter with your brother. I—"
"He is not my brother."
"I wanted to talk to you of other things."
"You do pick your moments. How can you think I want to talk to you at all? You blithely tell me the duke is dead and expect me to proceed without pause."
"Don't pretend you're sorry he's dead, Ashley. You hated him."
"What I felt for him was never your affair," she answered with quiet feeling.
"How very forgiving of you, m'dear," Davinia said. "I feel nothing of the sort. He was a cold-hearted bastard who caused misery for every life he touched. It is my fervent desire that he rots."
Davinia's vehemence startled Ashley. It was hard to credit that she had come to hate Nigel so fiercely. What had he done to her? "When did he die?"
"Last November."
"So long ago," Ashley said softly. "It doesn't seem possible that he has been dead all this time." Struck by a sudden thought she went cold. "Flannigan! It was you! You hired Michael Flannigan, didn't you?"
"I find myself quite unable to follow your conversation. Who is this Flannigan person, and why would I want to employ an Irishman? They are murderers."
Ashley was puzzled by Davinia's genuine surprise. Or was the woman as adept a liar as Nigel? If not Davinia, then who? "It's nothing. Forget I ever mentioned the name. Tell me how Nigel died."
"I don't see the point in dwelling on such a morbid subject."
"Davinia, if you want something from me you will have to humor me."
"I doubt that you will be so uppity when I am finished with you, m'dear, but for now I will play along. It was an accident. He fell in his bedchamber and struck his head on the mantelpiece. I was with him when it happened, and I assure you it was quite horrid. He suffered a severe blow. For all that he was still breathing I could not bring him round." Davinia's hand fluttered nervously about her throat "A physician was called in but there was nothing he could do. I stayed at Nigel's bedside for three days waiting for him to open his eyes. He never did. The doctor bade me leave Linfield, saying there was no hope, that Nigel could remain in such a state for weeks, even months. It was then I decided to join Charles here. While I was still in London I received word that Nigel had died."
Ashley was plainly confused. It seemed odd that Davinia had kept a vigil at Nigel's side if she now hoped he was moldering in his grave. Hardly aware of what she was saying, Ashley asked, "Are you certain the duke is truly dead?"
"Oh, Lord! I hope so!"
Which, Ashley thought, is not precisely a confirmation. But Davinia's spontaneous
response indicated that there was more than hatred she felt for the duke. There was fear. As if she realized she had given something away, Davinia composed herself, plucking a leaf from the latticework and casually fanning herself with it.
"Now that you've finished with your interrogation, I shall get to the heart of the matter. You must know that my husband is on General Howe's staff."
"I was aware of it, yes."
"Then you can understand I am hardly satisfied with his position. As long as I must live with him here, Charles should have more responsibility and a higher command."
"Befitting your station in life," Ashley said dryly.
"You do understand," Davinia answered with sweet menace. "Then you should have no difficulty comprehending what I expect of you. I did not know you were in New York until Louise spoke of you and your husband. I thought you were still in that backwater—"
"Tidewater."
"Place in Virginia. I am rather weary of traveling, Ashley. First it was Boston, then Halifax. Now New York. I would like to stay here. There is a modicum of entertainment, and the people are perhaps only one year out of the current fashion."
"I can see why you want to remain. You have nothing to worry about if Howe routs the Colonial rebels."
"That has occurred to me." In the moonlight Davinia's smile looked feral. "It also occurred to me that perhaps I can act in aid of that cause."
Trust Davinia not to believe thirty thousand men could do the job. "I'm certain whatever help you could offer would be appreciated."
Davinia laughed. "You are determined to go carefully, aren't you? Ashley, I know not where your loyalties lie, nor does it matter to me, but your husband is no more a Tory than Washington. I have heard the tale of how he parted on bad terms with his family, but it didn't ring true to me. You see, Nigel and I arranged for Charles to put your husband's name on a list of Loyalists. Nigel's purpose was never clear to me, but he had a plan that would have endangered your husband."