by Jo Goodman
"Oh, dear God," Ashley said, closing her eyes. "What can they do against so many?"
"They must fight or retreat before they are surrounded."
Meg wailed. "If James Shannon dies I am going to kill him."
The concept made perfect sense to her and she spun on her heel, leaving the chamber in a flurry more dramatic than her entrance.
Salem jumped out of bed and went to the dressing room. Ashley heard him pour water and splash it on his face. Then he began rummaging through his wardrobe without sparing any time to shave.
"What are you going to do?" she called as she slipped into her robe. She padded to the doorway and leaned against the jamb, watching Salem fumble impatiently with the buttons on his buff breeches and jerkily pull on his riding boots.
"Scout the area from this side of the East River. Do you realize if Howe's admiral brother can sail his fleet into the river, Washington will be cut off from Manhattan? He'll have no place to go. He'll have to make a stand or surrender." He tucked his pistol in his breeches and a spyglass in his overcoat pocket.
"But what can you possibly do to help?"
"Probably nothing, Ashley, but I can't simply lie abed."
"I understand," she said quietly. "Of course you must go."
He kissed her hard on the mouth.
"Godspeed," she whispered against his lips. "Stay safe for me."
He nodded, searching her glistening emerald eyes. Then he left.
Ashley heard the front door close and she ran to the bedroom window to see Salem leaving the house. She smiled faintly as a strong wind lifted the cocked hat from his head and sent it sailing. He caught it, glanced up at the window where he knew she would be standing, and made a courtly bow. The expression on his face was one of near jubilation. How strange, she thought, that he should be so happy about losing his hat. She blew him a kiss then stood there for long minutes, forehead pressed against the cool pane, until Salem disappeared into the livery down the street.
Salem was very pleased about the bracing northeast wind as he rode Folly along the southern dp of Manhattan Island. It would make the East River inaccessible to Admiral Howe's Royal Fleet. The British warships and transports simply could not enter the river against a northeast wind. Salem thanked God for this stroke of luck.
He spent the afternoon scouting the southern perimeter, waiting for the Americans to retreat across the river while the wind was their ally. He could hardly believe it when he saw through his glass that Washington was reinforcing his position on the Heights. Outnumbered three to one, it didn't seem possible the general was going to risk complete defeat against Howe's superior troops and siege works. Salem sat numbly on the bank, obscured in a wooded grove and waited for the cannons' thunder.
Although he was expecting it, his head still snapped in surprise when the sound came, but when heavy raindrops began to fall he realized that it had not been a cannon's thunder at all. This sound was nature's own. He left the shelter of the trees and turned his face heavenward, welcoming the rain's cool lashing. He imagined the redcoats in their soggy woolens and nearly whooped with joy. The rain was bound to hold off the British attack for the remainder of the day. Perhaps with this reprieve Washington would reconsider withdrawing while the Royal Fleet was still unable to sail into the East River. The darkening sky, the lateness of the hour, led Salem to revise his opinion of the general's tactics. It seemed if there was to be a retreat Washington would only lead it under cover of the night. Hoping he had not misjudged the plan, Salem decided to return home and pass the few remaining hours where it was warm and dry and friendly.
His home seemed eerily quiet when he entered the foyer. He brushed off the droplets of rain clinging to his coat and gave his hat to the footman who met him at the door. "Where is Mrs. McClellan?" Salem asked, eyeing the servant's unusually somber face with puzzlement.
"She is in her bedchamber, sir."
"Is there something wrong, Stanley?"
The response came quickly. "With me, sir? No, sir. Glad you're home, sir. Just worried 'bout the fighting and such."
Salem did not believe him, not with three "sirs" in four sentences, but then he didn't care to explore the man's problem right now. He was anxious to see Ashley. He found her in their bedroom, sitting by the hearth, staring morosely at the fire that had been laid to take the chill out of the air. He frowned.
"Ashley?" he asked, a clear question in his voice.
When she heard his entry she nearly leaped out of her chair and ran to him, clinging to his damp chest and shoulders. "I am so glad you're home," she cried, burying her face in his neck.
Salem remained uneasy. Didn't Ashley's voice sound a shade too bright? He returned her embrace, relishing the feel of her lithe body against his, then gently set her back from him. He narrowly regarded her face. Her eyes were bright and the lids were the slightest bit swollen. She had most certainly been crying. And the smile she gave him was large but slightly trembly.
"Ashley, what's wrong?"
She took a deep breath, pressing her palms together in a calming motion. "Why nothing is wrong," she said easily. "Surely I am allowed to worry about you. I had expected you to return before now. You are looking slightly bedraggled. Are you going to change your clothes?"
He listened to her nervous chatter. "No," he answered. He stood in front of the fireplace and held out his hands to the toasty heat. "I'll just dry off here. There's no point in changing."
"Then you are leaving again?"
Salem's dark brows pulled together. She seemed almost relieved that he was going out. "Yes, I thought I would wait until dark. I am hoping Washington will leave Long Island. What have you heard about the fighting?"
"I haven't heard a thing. I've not been out all day."
Watching Ashley closely, Salem explained the situation on Brooklyn Heights. "So you see," he finished quickly, sensing her distraction, "it won't be long before Courtney takes command of the fleet and sails it up the Thames."
"That's wonderful, Salem."
"Ashley! You haven't heard a word I've said."
She was jerked out of her reverie. "But I have," she protested. "You said that Courtney—oh—I'm sorry. I fear I am all eggshells today."
"You weren't like this when I left."
She paused. "I suspect I am upset because you've forgotten what today is," she said, choosing her words carefully.
Salem grew thoughtful, trying to remember this day's significance. He could think of nothing. No birthday, no anniversary, no special event came to his mind. "I don't know what you are talking about," he said reluctantly.
Ashley's shoulders slumped a little. "Don't refine on it. It is nothing very important."
"But aren't you going to tell me?"
"Then it wouldn't be the same."
"You are being very enigmatic."
"I cannot help it if you are obtuse."
Salem began to wish he had stayed by the river bank.
Ashley was being most disagreeable. He shrugged off her last observation and walked toward the dressing room.
"I thought you were not going to change," she said.
He turned, looking at her quizzically. "I'm not," he explained with exaggerated patience. "I am going through here to the nursery."
Ashley came out of her chair. "No!"
"Madam, are you saying I cannot see my own daughter?"
"Yes—I mean no. Of course you can see her, but she's been very fussy all day. Meg and I only got her to sleep a moment ago. I'd rather you didn't disturb her." She slowly sat down again as Salem came to stand in front of her.
He leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of the chair, effectively trapping Ashley. "I demand to know what is troubling you."
Her eyes grew darker, pleading for his understanding, but she made no reply. Salem pushed himself away from her in exasperation.
"I despair of ever understanding you. I thought you would be pleased to hear my news, yet you barely listened. You say you are happy
to have me home, yet you seen equally anxious to have me gone. Honestly, Ashley—"
Salem was cut off in midsentence as a loud commotion downstairs signaled the arrival of visitors. The color drained from Ashley's face until she was paler than the ivory shawl that graced her shoulders. As the raised voices and hurried footsteps drew near their room her knuckles turned white as she clenched her hands in her lap. Salem recognized the voices almost immediately. But Ashley's cheeks did not pinken until Smith, Shannon, and Noah barged into the room and then she remained noticeably wary of them.
"Washington needs boats, Salem," Smith said tersely. "He's going to evacuate the island tonight."
Salem nodded. "I hoped he would. I've scouted the area. I know where there are some vessels to be had. How many do you need?"
"He only has ten flat-bottomed boats."
"Hardly enough for ten thousand men, is it?"
"Not so many any longer," Noah put in, drying the tails of his coat by the fire. "There were prisoners taken this morning."
"We heard," Salem said. "There was a time this afternoon when I thought it would be the same for all of you."
"Sure, and we thought it, too," Shannon said and grinned, glancing around in hope of seeing his Meg. "Damnedest piece of luck, that wind and rain. The general figured the Almighty was tryin' to tell him something. He sent a few parties out, pretendin' to round up more militia, when what we're all after is anythin' that floats."
Noah laughed mockingly. "For myself, nothing less than the ark will do. I nearly died on the way over here."
A tiny smile curved Ashley's lips, the first any of the men had seen since they came in. "Why did you come, Noah? Surely the general had others to send."
"I couldn't tell him I get seasick, could I?" he asked sheepishly. "I managed to hide it well enough when we went there to set up camp."
Salem laughed shortly at his brother's predicament. "It's somewhat rougher today."
Smith cleared his throat, returning to business. "We have to have the boats ready at nightfall. That's when the first group will be coming over. Washington put the mariners from Massachusetts in charge of the retreat. If we can have more boats for the Marbleheaders to take back, they'll be less likely to use us for fishbait."
Salem could not disagree with that. Everyone connected with Washington's army knew about the seasoned fishermen and sailors from Marblehead, Salem, and Danvers. Every time the troops had to move over water the hearty strength and spirit of the New England Mariners was tested. But the extent of the ferry service they were being called upon to provide tonight was without precedent.
"Very well." Salem grinned. "I've no wish to dangle at the end of their hooks. Let's show them that Virginians are good for more than tobacco." He looked pointedly at all three men. "If you'll wait downstairs a moment, I'd like to say good-bye to my wife."
Noah gave Ashley a brief kiss on her cheek before he trooped out with the others, shutting the door quietly behind him. While he waited for Salem to join them he wondered briefly why Ashley had been so quiet and her cheek had been so cold. Then Shannon started ribbing him about the trip across the river and Noah failed to notice that Smith was deep in very similar thoughts.
"Ashley, I don't like parting like this, but there is nothing for it," Salem was saying upstairs. "You and I will have this out when I return. In the meantime it would please me if you would behave more graciously toward our friends." He saw that he had hurt her deeply but he went on relentlessly. "Lest you have forgotten, let me remind you that those three men kept you safe for many weeks. Good evening, madam."
Knuckling her mouth to keep from shouting after him, Ashley did not move until she heard the front door slam, then she hurried into the nursery.
"You did very well, dear," Davinia said mockingly as she moved away from the door. "I thought he was going to choke you himself and eliminate all my troubles."
Ashley ignored Davinia completely and went to Meg's side, taking Courtney from her trembling arms. "Are you all right, Meg?"
She nodded. "I'm fine. And so is the babe. It's that one who's queer in the attic." She jerked her chin scornfully in Davinia's direction.
Ashley took heart from Meg's unflagging spirit. The poor girl had faced Davinia's madness alone for the better part of an hour and only had shaky limbs to show for it "Put down the pistol, Davinia. I did all that you asked. Salem is gone, none the wiser to your presence, and I don't doubt that you heard all of the conversation in my chamber."
"Most enlightening," she said carelessly as she sat at the foot of the small nursery daybed. She continued to level the pistol at Ashley, following her movements as she paced the floor slowly with her daughter. "So Washington plans to run tonight. What cowards these Colonials are." She laughed lightly. "I believe I have the information I came for after all."
"Then leave us," Ashley said sharply, patting Courtney softly on her bottom. Thank heaven she was finally worn out from crying, Ashley thought. Courtney's loud squalls had kept the servants alert to the danger of interfering ever since Davinia entered the house. They were helpless against Davinia's threats that she would kill the child. "Go run to your husband with your news," Ashley hissed. "It is what you've wanted all along."
"Do you take me for a fool, you stupid chit? As soon as I leave you'll send someone off to tell Salem that I have sniffed out his game."
"I give you my word that I won't," Ashley stated.
"Your word? What good is the word of a Lynne?" Davinia asked scornfully, her voice rising at the end, her rasp more pronounced. "Your uncle promised me any number of things and reneged on them all."
"Why speak of Nigel at a time like this? Let him at least rest in peace."
"You sicken me. You hate him as much as I do."
"I feel nothing at all for him any longer," she said tiredly. "He's dead, Davinia."
"Yes, he's dead. And by whose hand do you suppose?"
Ashley stopped pacing. Meg paled. Both women regarded Davinia's glittering blue eyes with something akin to horror. Two pairs of eyes dropped to the pistol she held on Ashley. Any doubt that she was capable of using the weapon vanished.
Davinia laughed huskily at their shocked faces. "Can it be that I've finally convinced you that I'm not playing games? And you have not even heard the half of it. It was you who were the cause of the calamity; we were arguing over you when it happened. Nigel was outraged over your marriage to the Yankee. You had made a fool of him, Ashley—a dangerous mistake. He was crazy with anger. He told me things he never meant to. He loved Anne, you know. Loved her passionately—obsessively. He only kept you all these years because you reminded him of her." She sneered, jerking the pistol at Ashley. Never would she explain that Nigel had made her his mistress for the same reason. It still had the power to hurt and humiliate. "And it repulsed him that you were lying with your own brother."
Ashley heard Meg's small gasp and gave her a quelling look. "This is the last time I will say this. Nigel was wrong about Salem. He is not my brother."
Davinia went on as if she hadn't heard. "Nigel made several sordid confessions and then attempted to silence me. He tried to kill me. And I returned his treachery by fighting back."
"Then you acted to defend yourself."
"I only regret that he did not die quickly. Even he did not deserve to linger so many weeks. The thing would have been done in an instant if his manservant hadn't heard the noise and come into the room."
Ashley's eyes closed briefly as she imagined the scene. "That's why you stayed by Nigel's side for so many days, isn't it? You wanted to make certain he died."
"Yes. Don't you see, if he lived I would have met with an arranged accident. It was the sort of thing Nigel did when people acted contrary to his wishes. In the end though, I was forced to leave Linfield. I am afraid the physician was unconvinced by my grieving manner. But I did grieve, Ashley. In my own fashion I loved Nigel Lynne, and in the same way, he loved me." Her voice lowered and the rasp became more pronounced. She co
uld feel Nigel's fingers tightening about her throat, crushing the breath from her body. He was deaf to her pleas, bent on doing murder so that he might have his dear Ashley returned to him. The pistol trembled in Davinia's hands as she remembered the terror that had lent her strength. She could see him falling back from the bed, stumbling over the footstool, his head connecting sharply with the mantelpiece.
Davinia breathed deeply, banishing the memory of Nigel's pale sculpted features. "It was always you that came between us, for you were Anne's spirit he said. It was always you that he wanted to keep close to him. I had to share you with him for years. If not for you, I would have had him to myself. I would have him still, if you had not angered him out of all reason."
Davinia's face was slightly flushed, and her eyes still glittered with the force of her jealousy. "And now," she said with venom, "I have you. And if you do not agree to accompany me to Howe's headquarters, I will delight in killing your child."
"Of course I will go with you, Davinia," Ashley said calmly. She stilled Meg's protest by placing Courtney in her arms and tried to smile encouragingly.
"How agreeable you are," Davinia said mockingly. "But the child goes with us."
Ashley straightened, spine stiff and chin thrust forward. "No, Davinia. Courtney remains with Meg. You must deal only with me from now on." Ashley wondered if anyone could hear the terrible pounding of her heart against her breast. Hidden in the folds of her damask gown, her hands clenched into fists.
Davinia's ice blue eyes narrowed. It was obvious the chit had no concern for her own safety if her child was threatened. She reconsidered her position. "The brat can stay here. But know that I will not hesitate to hurt you if you should try to escape." She turned her scathing glance on Meg. "And know that I hold your mistress's life by a tenuous thread. If you had any thought to summon help, put it back in your tiny mind."
Meg would have liked to talk more about tiny minds, but Ashley's hand on her shoulder cautioned her against it. "Meg will send no one after us, as will none of the other servants."