Just Jane
Page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Table of Contents
Copyright
Dedication
The Prentice Family of England and South Carolina
PART I Point of No Return—1776
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
PART II Interlude 1776–1778
Chapter 12
PART III War Clouds Move South 1778–1780
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
PART IV Occupation 1780
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
PART V Storm’s Fury 1781
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Epilogue—1782
Suggested Further Reading
About the Author
Footnotes
Copyright © 2002 by William Lavender
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 215 Park Avenue South, New York, New York 10003.
www.hmhco.com
Gulliver Books is a trademark of Harcourt, Inc., registered in the United States of America and/or other jurisdictions.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Lavender, William.
Just Jane: a daughter of England caught in the struggle of the American Revolution/by William Lavender, p. cm.—(Great Episodes)
“Gulliver Books.”
Includes bibliographical references.
Summary: Fourteen-year-old Jane Prentice, orphaned daughter of an English earl, arrives in Charleston, South Carolina, in 1776 to find her loyalties divided over the question of American independence.
1. Charleston (S.C.)—History—Revolution, 1775—1783—Juvenile fiction. [1. Charleston (S.C.)—History—Revolution, 1775—1783—Fiction. 2. Family problems—Fiction. 3. Loyalty—Fiction. 4. United States—History—Revolution, 1775-1783—Fiction. 5. Orphans—Fiction.] I. Title. II. Series.
PZ7.L416Ju 2002
[Fic]—dc21 2001001047
ISBN 978-0-15-202587-8
eISBN 978-0-544-34165-4
v1.1213
To Mary and Debbie—two strong
right arms of support
The Prentice Family of England and South Carolina
Capitalized names designate characters in this story.
PART I
Point of No Return—1776
Chapter 1
Jane Prentice awoke with a start in the cramped, airless cabin that had been her world for forty-six days and nights. Always there was the endless motion, the creaking and rocking of the sailing ship surrounded only by ocean and horizon. A lantern, now dark, swung gently on a beam overhead, as Jane’s elderly companion snored softly in the opposite bunk.
Suddenly from the crowded deck above, shouts rang out in the gray, cheerless dawn. Sailors starting their morning chores called to one another across the decks. According to the ship’s rules, that meant Jane could go up, too. Shivering with a mixture of cold and excitement, she quickly dressed and ran up on deck to greet the new day. Maybe, Jane thought—as she had every morning for the last week—just maybe, this will be the day.
Her stout, gray-haired companion found Jane leaning over the railing on the bow, looking straight into the spray-filled wind. She was straining to see a sliver of land through the mist.
“Jane! Gracious, child, you’ll catch your death—”
“Mrs. Morley, look!” Jane was too excited for a scolding.
“Do you see? It’s the Sea Islands, the lookout told me. Charlestown’s* only three more hours’ sail. That’s South Carolina you’re seeing—we’re finally here!”
Squinting into the distance, Mrs. Morley could barely see a dark line low on the horizon. “Lord above! Can it be?”
“I wonder what it’ll be like,” Jane murmured.
“A backwoods outpost, I dare say.” Her companion sniffed. “Like all the American colonies.”
“That can’t be. Uncle Robert and Cousin Hugh have lived here for years. And Uncle Robert wrote to us that Charlestown’s quite as civilized as London, only smaller.”
“Civilized, indeed! We’ll be spending half of every year at Mr. Robert’s farm, miles from town and surrounded by wild beasts and savages!”
“It’s not a farm, it’s a big plantation,” Jane corrected her.
“Besides, there’s all this talk of quarreling between the Americans and King George, our lawful ruler. It worries me.”
But Jane’s mind was on her uncle’s plantation. “Rosewall!” She breathed the name as if enchanted. “Uncle Robert says it’s a beautiful patch of England, transplanted to America. I’m sure it’s lovely now, in June.”
“A tangled wilderness, I’ll warrant.” Mrs. Morley was not to be influenced. She pulled her long overcoat tight against the chill, looking quite miserable.
Jane scowled. “If you already hate it, why did you come?”
“You know very well why,” Mrs. Morley replied indignantly. “Because I’ve been your companion since your dear mother died so long ago, and because I promised your poor father. What a wasted life he led! Earl of Almesbury at thirty-three, and his fortune and estate lost to drink before he was forty! It was his dying wish that I remain with you.”
“Well, I could have come alone,” Jane replied, absent-mindedly pulling at the small gold locket she always wore—and always tugged at when she felt nervous.
“A girl of fourteen sailing off alone to a strange land to live with an uncle she’s never met? I think not!”
Jane gave her faithful companion a hug. “I’m glad you came, Mrs. Morley, but I want you to be glad, too. From his letters, Uncle Robert sounds wonderful, and I’m dying to meet Aunt Clarissa. He says she’s very beautiful, and from a good Charlestown family. Her brother’s a rich merchant and belongs to the South Carolina Assembly, or whatever it’s called. And Cousin Hugh is—”
“A cabinetmaker!” Mrs. Morley scoffed at the mention of Robert’s cousin Hugh Prentice. “Imagine! No more than a lowly woodworker, and him with all that schooling. All the Prentice boys had a fine education, you know. Their grandfather, Edward, the first Earl, saw to that. He’d turn over in his grave if he knew that after Hugh came to America, he tossed aside his books for a hammer and chisel!”
“I don’t see why. Surely, woodworking’s an honest occupation.”
But Mrs. Morley had already turned to go back below-decks. “I tell you this, my girl,” she called over her shoulder, “we may be a long way from home, but I intend to remain English through and through till the day I die. These colonies can’t change that. And stop pulling on that chain, dear. You’ll break it for certain. You know I wasn’t even supposed to
let you have that locket until you turned eighteen.”
“I know, and I keep telling you, I won’t break it.” Engraved with her parents’ initials—EP to RP—Jane’s beloved gold locket contained her only memento of her mother, the Countess Rachel, who had died when Jane was just three years old. Curled inside the heart-shaped locket was a wisp of chestnut brown hair. The locket, and a slim volume of poems that had belonged to her father, were the two treasures she had brought with her to America.
“And I know how you feel about England, Mrs. Morley. I feel the same way. I’m sure all our friends and kinsmen in America do, too. But you’ll see—we’ll have an exciting new life here, and I’m . . .”
Jane turned her gaze again to the mysterious horizon shrouded in morning mist.
I’m afraid, she thought.
Chapter 2
While Harriet Ainsley was often considered pretty, she looked plain in comparison to her husband’s beautiful sister, Clarissa Prentice. But Harriet possessed an inner beauty that would last, everyone said, far longer than Clarissa’s glamour. While the elegant Clarissa was widely admired, it was the warmhearted Harriet, with her sunny disposition, who was genuinely loved by all who knew her. Harriet was blessed in other ways as well. Her husband, Arthur, was a prosperous merchant, respected public figure, and devoted family man. Their handsome eighteen-year-old son, Brandon, was famous around Charlestown for his superb horsemanship. All in all, the Ainsley family was the picture of life at its very best.
Harriet’s second-floor sitting room in the Ainsley house, on Church Street, opened onto a narrow covered veranda running the length of the house. Late on this warm June afternoon, her husband found her there enjoying the view of Charlestown Harbor from the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Well, Arthur,” Harriet asked, “has Miss Prentice arrived at last?”
“She has, but she’s completely exhausted. Nellie is showing her directly to her room.”
“Good. I thank heaven she’s safe, what with all these rumors of British ships approaching.”
“Being a loyal British subject, she’d likely see no danger in that. She doesn’t seem to know much about the quarrel between England and the colonies. And it’s probably just as well.”
“Well, ignorance is bliss, the poet says. I hope she’ll remain blissful as long as possible. What’s she like, Arthur? Is she pretty?”
“I daresay she will be, once she’s spruced up with some decent clothes. Slender, graceful, lovely complexion. Long brown hair. Huge dark eyes, like a frightened doe. But frightened or not, she’s remarkably poised for one so young. I could tell she was disappointed that Robert wasn’t at the dock to meet her. But I explained how busy he is at Rosewall in June, and that we’ll do everything we can to make her comfortable until he arrives.”
“Of course.” Harriet became thoughtful. “I wonder if she’ll expect to be called Lady Jane. After all, she is the daughter of an English earl.”
“I suppose we should, until she becomes accustomed to American ways. Soon enough she’ll realize we don’t much use titles of nobility.”
Just then Jane appeared in the doorway. “Come in, my dear,” said Arthur, with a kind smile. He introduced her formally: “Harriet, may I present Lady Jane Prentice.”
“Lady Jane! We’re delighted you’re here!” Beaming, Harriet embraced the girl. The warm hug and the sweet scent of the rose water Harriet wore took Jane’s breath away for an instant. It was the same rose water her mother had worn, she was certain of it. Jane had only a few memories of her mother, and it was comforting to feel that Harriet was in some way like her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Ainsley.” It was nice to be so warmly received.
Harriet bubbled cheerily. “Now, dear, until Robert and Clarissa return to their house in Charlestown, please consider our home and our family as your own. Our son, Brandon, is also at Rosewall just now, but he returns soon. And we’d be so pleased if you’d call us Uncle Arthur and Aunt Harriet. Wouldn’t we, Arthur?”
“Indeed we would,” Arthur agreed amiably.
Jane, with her English reserve, was taken aback by this display of friendliness. “I don’t know how to thank you. You’re both so kind. And . . .” She hesitated. “It’s true that I’m called Lady Jane at home. But I’m told that things are different in America. So, now that I’m here, I’d like everyone to call me just Jane.”
Arthur and Harriet exchanged pleased smiles. “As you wish, Jane,” he said with a nod. “And don’t worry, despite the disagreements we’ve been having with the king’s government, no one will forget that you’re English, or try to influence you in political matters. Your uncle Robert would never permit you to set foot in this house if he thought there was any danger of that.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jane responded, waiting expectantly for further explanation of the “disagreements” Arthur had mentioned. But none came.
Quickly, Harriet said, “Such talk will make Jane’s poor head spin, Arthur.” She gave Jane’s arm a little squeeze. “My dear, why don’t we let you rest a bit. I’m going to send notes around to some of our close friends, inviting them to stop in this evening to meet you. Nothing formal, just a light supper and a little conversation. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“I’m sure I shall.” Jane smiled politely, but her insides felt like a thousand butterflies had just taken flight. She would be the center of a great many strangers’ curious attention on her very first day in Charlestown.
That evening Jane was pleasantly surprised by the friendliness directed toward her, but mortified by the dowdiness of her only halfway decent dress. Somehow she had expected to be able to get at least one new dress in America before being introduced to her relatives’ respected friends. She only picked at the “light supper,” which turned out to be a feast of roast game, succulent hams, and all manner of breads, cakes, and pies. There was more food than Jane had ever seen in one place, certainly not aboard ship, where even bread had become scarce toward the end. Glad when the evening finally ended, she peeked into Mrs. Morley’s room to say good night.
“How was it, dear?” Mrs. Morley inquired. “Did they treat you properly?”
“Everyone was very nice. I’ve never seen so many fancy-looking ladies and gentlemen, all dressed in such beautiful silks. I felt like a milkmaid among them in this old thing—it’s so babyish!”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Morley sputtered. “Don’t forget, you were the only highborn English lady there, even if your dress isn’t new. And you’re growing into quite a shapely young lady, at that. You’ll be lacing up a fine set of stays before long, and the young men will be buzzing around you.”
“Well, I didn’t feel highborn or grown-up when I met the president of the Republic, Mr. Rutledge. He is a most impressive gentleman.”
“President? Of what Republic?”
“They’re calling this place the Republic of South Carolina.”
“Are they, now! That sounds ridiculous, indeed.”
“I also heard Uncle Arthur’s neighbor Mr. Heyward talking about arguments with the king over things like commerce and taxation,” Jane went on. “That’s why you’ll find no English tea in the shops.”
“I can’t understand why your uncle Robert would bring us into this nest of rebels, fine people or no!” Mrs. Morley exclaimed.
“Oh, they’re not rebels, Mrs. Morley,” Jane explained. “I’m sure they’re all as loyal as we are—it’s just that this colony has a few complaints. Don’t worry, everything will be fine. Good night now. Sleep well.”
Back in her own room, Jane lay awake a long time. Her mind whirled with visions of beautiful new dresses, sumptuous food—and echoes of the shocking word Mrs. Morley had used. Rebels? The Ainsleys? Surely they are loyal British subjects. And yet. . .
It seems I have much to learn about these Americans, she thought. How will I ever find my right place here?
She drifted off, at last, to a fitful sleep.
Chapter 3
The next day, Br
andon Ainsley returned from Rosewall.
Arthur had sent a rider with word of Jane’s safe arrival, and Brandon immediately set out for Charlestown. As his horse’s hooves clattered through the gate, black servants ran out, shouting, to greet him.
The commotion brought Harriet outside as well, laughingly scolding her son. “Brandon, dear, don’t bring that dirty old horse into the courtyard!”
Dismounting with a flourish, he turned his dappled gray mare over to a groom. “Why, Mother dear! Dare you call Princess a dirty old horse?”
Jane already knew he was eighteen, and now she saw that, with clear blue eyes and straw-colored hair falling in disarray over his forehead, he was handsome like his father, his face full of the joy of life.
Harriet enveloped him in a warm embrace, chiding him, “Do behave, or Jane will get a bad first impression of you.”
Just then he caught sight of the girl standing in the doorway, gazing at him in wonder. “Oh, my. . . .” he breathed, and with wide-eyed wonder of his own, stepped toward her. “Lady Jane!” Bowing low, he kissed her hand, then held on to it, beaming. “Enchanted, I’m sure!”
She quietly withdrew her hand. “It’s just Jane, please, Master Brandon. Or Cousin Jane, if you like.”
“You are lovely, whatever you’re called,” he said casually, studying her all over. “Lady Jane, Cousin Jane, or simply Jane—I expect I’ll marry you someday.”
Too taken aback to respond, Jane was grateful that Harriet quickly came to her rescue. “Brandon, stop that. You’re embarrassing our guest. Now, what news of Robert and Clarissa? Will they be coming soon?”
“As soon as possible,” he replied. “They’re delighted that you’re here, Jane, and send you their warmest welcome. But you see, Uncle Robert’s just bringing in his rice crop and needs Aunt Clarissa’s help. You can’t imagine what it’s like running a large plantation. Well, I must see to Princess. But then I’ll come looking for you, Cousin Jane. I never want you out of my sight again!” Taking long, confident strides, he hurried away.