Embrace of the Enemy (Winds of Betrayal)

by Jerri Hines

  Her heart raced with each step, listening for any sound. None came. She turned the corner and ran. She was free.

  * * * *

  Hannah knocked lightly at the back door, frightened, for she knew no one at this new residence except her beloved cousin. A moment later Susanna opened the door and pulled her inside, shutting it tightly. Susanna hugged her lightly, but whispered in her ear.

  “We have company, Hannah. I’m afraid I have to entertain with Oswyn. Come, I’ll place you within his study. It’s early, yet. There’s a couch you can lie on. I promise I’ll be back and we’ll talk. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you again. I had been so afraid, but...,” she hugged her once more. “You’ll be safe here. I confess my thoughts had been they had thrown you in the Jersey. We’ll talk and see what we can do to get you away. Safely away.”

  For the first time in well over a year, a sense of relief flooded her. Her only thought was to return home, at least out of British control. If she could contain the situation, she would be free. She watched Susanna smile at her and close the study door.

  The candle light lit up within the room in a soft light. Her nerves wouldn't let her sleep as Susanna had suggested. Instead she strolled around the room, glancing over books, papers upon the desk. Her eyes fell upon a pouch that sat high above on the bookshelf, out of reach. Curious about why it would be placed in a safe place, she scooted a chair over and pulled it down. She sat down upon the chair and unstrapped the band. Pulling the papers forth, her eyes widened with each page.

  She looked up at the door as her heart skipped a beat. She glanced once more over the papers. Detailed plans of a battle, strategies, numbers that she wasn’t sure what they meant. Her hands began to tremble once more. She wondered who Susanna was entertaining, but of this she was certain…these were official plans of a major assault. She laid the papers down and searched the desk desperately for paper and pen.

  She sat at the desk readied to copy the papers word for word. Within her, a vaguely remembered promise gnawed at her. She had given her word to Marcus. She paused before picking up the pen.

  Her word against the potential of American lives; honor bound to replace the papers her hands should never have come across; the man who had risked his career and life to protect her for she had well known what Tom had referred- she would betray; her life made no sense as of late; her longing for a man she could never have. She had long lived with betrayal, being betrayed and betraying others who placed their trust in her. Only one thing remained constant, her belief within a cause.

  She began writing.

  * * * *

  The night had been long. Her hand cramped, but she was done. Hannah had completed writing the last line and had replaced all the papers within the pouch. She carefully placed the pouch back upon the shelf in the same manner as it once had been. No sooner had she done so, Susanna rushed in.

  Not uttering a sound, Susanna pointed behind the curtain. Hannah understood. Trepidation gripped her. With the copied documents secured her hidden pocket of her cloak, she hid quietly behind the long heavy curtain.

  Shortly after voices echoed within the room. “Ah, my dear. I didn’t expect to find you here,” Oswyn said.

  “I thought I heard something, but I must have been mistaken,” Hannah heard Susanna reply.

  “Our guests are departing now.”

  “I have to graciously thank you, Mrs. Millbury. Your dinner was excellent and marriage seems to have agreed with Oswyn. Lucky man to have been fortunate to have found such a beautiful wife.”

  Hannah’s heart raced rapidly for the distinct voice was no other than General Howe. She held her breath for fear of exposure.

  “I hate to depart so early, but we have a long day. Do we not, Sergeant Bleecher?”

  “Having ventured far, the meal was deeply appreciated, Mrs. Millbury.”

  * * * *

  Hannah hated to leave Susanna. In honesty, though, Susanna seemed content, more relaxed away from her brother.

  “He’s not as bad as I first thought,” Susanna said when she returned later than she had anticipated. “It is better than being in that house.”

  “Hopefully, Camilla will leave. She talks constantly about her Allen,” Hannah said. She watched Susanna nodded. “Pray, though. Tell her to take care of whom she tells. Grandfather’s attention is not directed toward her at the moment.”

  “Are you leaving?” Susanna asked.

  “I had hoped, but something has called me back,” Hannah answered directly. “It will be my hope to leave as soon as I can, before Grandfather can enact his revenge. I don't know why Marcus allowed me to go back.”

  Susanna eyed her cousin tenderly. “I hear that he is much taken with you, Hannah, I sensed it before. Are you okay, though? You don’t socialize. Have you been harmed?”

  “No,” Hannah acknowledged. She reached for her cousin’s hand. “He doesn’t trust me. With better reason than he knows. But I don’t know what to do, Susanna. I can’t do what he has planned. He acts as though it is normal. That we aren’t breaking a commandment, but in honesty, Cousin, when he’s around me.…”

  “You need to leave, Hannah. Leave tonight. I’ll give you money. I’m afraid for you.”

  Hannah thought for a moment. If she left tonight, they would well assume she had help from her cousin. Marcus wouldn't put anything by her. He might figure out she copied plans and then what about Susanna and Miss Trant. Would they consider them traitors as well? No, she had to return and deliver the plans she copied.

  “I promise I will leave as soon as I deem it safe for all around.”

  * * * *

  Miss Trant gave no indication she had thought that Hannah would disappear on her and seemed pleased that she had gotten to sleep the whole of the night within the large comfortable bed. Quickly exchanging places before Tom’s emergence, Hannah had hidden the plans well before Tom walked in the room.

  He looked at her questionably. “You don’t look like you slept well.”

  She shrugged and wrapped her gown tighter around her. “I had a lot on my mind.”

  “You went to bed early enough,” he countered, walking around the room. He eyed her intently, which she ignored.

  “I’m not going to argue with you today, Tom. I need to check in with my grandmother,” she pushed by him into her grandmother’s room.

  To her dismay she found Aunt Leona sat by her grandmother’s side.

  “I don’t think she has much longer, Hannah,” her aunt cried. “I can’t believe I’m about to lose her.”

  Hannah comforted her aunt the best she could under Tom’s watchful eyes. “Is there anything I can do to help, Aunt Leona? Is there anything we need to prepare if the time is close? Food? What of clothing?”

  “Clothing?” Aunt Leona responded. “I haven’t thought about that. Oh, Father will be so upset if we’re not properly dressed.”

  “Don’t worry, Aunt,” Hannah gently rubbed her aunt’s head as she lay crying on her mother’s deathbed. “I will have Mrs. Hayes send for a seamstress. Do you have one in mind?”

  * * * *

  If the stakes she played hadn’t been so high, she would have wondered at her ease at accomplishing her objective against all odds. Under the watchful eyes of them all, Hannah sat back and devised a plan for Tepper to receive her envelope.

  With the help of the unsuspecting Camilla, she had succeeded. Upon Cora’s arrival, Hannah waited until Camilla was being fitted within her bedroom.

  In all the time she had been in New York, Hannah had never used Cora as a courier. The plan had always been in place, but till now she had only set up meetings with Tepper. In a way, the opportunity held less danger, for none would suspect she would try anything under their supervision. Hannah folded her prize neatly for the papers were many and tucked them securely within a pocket she sewn on the underside of the her skirt.

  From her grandmother's window, she saw Cora arrive. She bided her time. She sat silently by her grandmother, wh
o labored with each breath. Hannah softly touched her grandmother's cheek.

  “I hope you find the peace you seek, Grandmother,” she said in a gentle tone. “You will finally find your daughter you have so long looked for.”

  She looked up to see Tom staring at her. “Do you want something?”

  He glared irritably at Hannah. His patience had been worn. “Your cousin seeks your opinion.”

  Hannah smiled at Tom. She was sure he would have liked to have been assigned to a more challenging mission. Watching a hem being pinned up wasn't something he had been trained for. “You don't mind observing a fitting, I'm sure.”

  “I'll wait out in the hall,” he said without a hint of emotion. Hannah squeezed her grandmother's hand. She felt her skirt for a moment to check the papers were in place and then stood. She glanced at Tom and walked by him.

  She heard Camilla talking before she entered. Camilla chattered constantly. “I'm all a flutter, I can assure you, Mother,” Camilla said. “What am I to do? My Allen is so upset that Simon took the mission.”

  “And pray why would he worry about another's mission,” Aunt Leona answered as if she wasn't in the least concerned.

  “Why Mother!” Camilla exclaimed. “It's so dangerous from what Allen has said and Simon is his best friend. Simon's heart is broken and didn't think is what Allen said. To go undercover to White Plains to Sterling's house with his captain is so daring and brave. It has something to do with a recruiting trip or something. Ouch!”

  “I'm so sorry, Miss Camilla, but you moved. You need to be still, but for a moment,” Hannah heard Cora say as she walked in.

  “She can't help it when she's upon a subject,” Hannah interjected.

  “Oh, Hannah! I'm so glad you came,” Camilla said excitedly. She stepped down to hug her cousin.

  “Camilla,” Hannah remarked. “I just saw you at breakfast.”

  “Oh, I know that, Hannah. It's just Mother told me you are to leave again when Grandmother....”

  Hannah nodded her head. “It is okay, Camilla. What did you need me for?”

  “Oh, yes,” Camilla broke away from Hannah. “You promised to give me your opinion upon my dresses. Did you forget?”

  Hannah smiled at her cousin. No, she hadn't. As a matter of fact, she had counted upon the basis that her cousin would have need of her during her fitting. “Camilla, you are to be in black. What more do you need?”

  “It is the style, Hannah. Don't you think?” Camilla asked seriously.

  “Would it hurt to ruffle the hem?” Hannah asked as she stepped back to observe her cousin.

  “I believe you may be right,” Camilla agreed. “What do you think, Miss Cora?”

  “I believe I may have a piece within my bag. I could piece it to see if it would add to your dress,” Cora said simply upon her knees. “Do you mind, Miss Corbett, and see if you can find it in my sewing bag?”

  “But of course,” Hannah walked slowly over to the sewing bag with her back to all. Within the side of the bag, a pocket had been made for the papers that Hannah easily slipped out of her skirt. Without wasting a moment, the papers were now in Cora's possession. Hannah pretended to search through the bag. “I'm sorry, Miss Cora, but I don't seem to be able to find what you're talking about.”

  Cora pushed upon her hand against the floor to regain her stance. She walked over to Hannah. “It is fine, Miss Corbett. I'll look.”

  Cora bent back over to the bag. Hannah's hand came down upon Cora's and whispered for her ears only. “It's in the side pocket. They're extremely important, I feel.”

  “You know,” Cora said as she stood back up. “I believe I may have left that piece back at the shop, but I can have Mr. Tepper add to the first and if you like it, Miss Wick, we can add it to the others.”

  “Yes,” Camilla agreed easily. She took hold of Hannah's hand. “That will be fine. Don't you think, Hannah?”

  Hannah nodded. She sat with Camilla as Aunt Leona got fitted. Tom occasionally looked in. Camilla called for tea. She wasn't going to waste time with her cousin as she had her ear. Hannah didn't mind. Her objective had been accomplished.

  Camilla had gone off on another topic. She leaned over in earnest and clung to Hannah's hand, imploring her in a whisper. Hannah glanced up to see Tom standing by her.

  “Wouldn't it be better to not to whisper, Hannah?” he asked intently.

  “I don't believe she wants this for all ears,” Hannah responded and looked over at her cousin who seemed close to tears. Tom didn't back off. Hannah stood and turned into him.

  In a low tone, Hannah said, “Camilla is asking me whether she should elope with her Allen, Tom. What do you think? Should we announce it to the world? I'm certain Grandfather would find it of interest. Don't you? We could have multiple funerals.”

  Tom eyed them both intently, but turned to Hannah. “I think it’s time for you to withdraw back to your grandmother.”

  Hannah bit her bottom lip. She bent over to her cousin and said lowly, but for Tom's ears, also, “Yes, Camilla, grasp hold of your happiness and don't let go. Above all else, run and don't look back.”

  Tom walked Hannah back in silence to her grandmother's room. He took his post at the door. Hannah walked back over to the window, glancing over at her grandmother. She stared out the window until she saw Cora leave, bag in hand. Hannah watched carefully. Cora walked casually down the street. No one gave her a second glance. It was done.

  Within the hour her grandmother passed away peacefully in her sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Early the next morning, Hannah walked the garden with Captain Elliot a short distance away. Her hands lay in her pockets of her cloak. She thought better walking this way. She walked as fast as she could…away from him. He irritated her. She should have left the night before. A sinister gloom had enveloped the house. She sensed it well and tried to convey the message to Captain Elliot, but as was his habit, he did not listen to her. It wasn't within his orders.

  “I can assure you, Hannah, as soon as I am given the order, we'll depart,” he stated in a manner to suggest that he too would have liked nothing better than to leave. He bided his time until he handed her back over to Marcus and was no longer within his care. “I would imagine after the funeral.”

  She rolled her eyes. Whose? She would have to make her attempt tonight. Her mind raced with plans. Miss Trant couldn't be considered an option at the moment, too busy preparing for the funeral to help her out. No, she thought, but her grandmother still lay within her bedroom with the door to the garden within reach. Yes, she thought, that might just be done. She eyed the door and the garden path. The wall could pose a slight problem, but wasn't that tall that the bench couldn't be pushed against it to make her escape.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Tom kept up with her step for step. She stepped back into the drawing room and removed her cloak. She slung it, aiming for the back of the couch.

  “Watch it, my dear. One would think you were aiming at me.”

  Hannah turned and stared at Joseph Gannon, who sat looking quite pleased with himself. He grabbed the cloak and looked at Hannah from her feet up to her eyes. She blushed. Entering behind her, Captain Elliott noticed the gesture and walked in-between the two.

  “Oh, I quite forgot your guards. Who are they here for, protecting you from your grandfather or grandfather from you?” Gannon raised his eyebrows.

  “I have to ask you, sir, to refrain from talking with Miss Corbett and leave,” Captain Elliot demanded. “I'll not ask you again.”

  “No, I suppose you wouldn't,” Gannon said haughtily. He patted her cloak and laid it carefully on the back of the couch. “I came only to express my sympathies, I assure you. I brought you a newspaper from Philadelphia I thought might be of interest to you, although from what I understand your attention has long since been directed toward another. I wonder what your brother would think about his sister becoming a British soldier's, pray what would one call it, harlot?”

  C
aptain Elliot reacted before the last word, but was too far away to prevent the last word. Captain Elliot landed a right hook, sending Gannon sprawling along the floor. Anger burst forth from Gannon. He jumped up to his feet, but Captain Elliot gave no ground. He pushed Gannon against the wall, holding him up against it with his collar.

  “Leave now before I have you arrested. Don't,” Captain Elliot warned. “Give me a reason.”

  Captain Elliot released him. Gannon stumbled back and regained his footing. He straightened his shirt. Hatred spewed from his being, he eyed Hannah. “Don't think you have won. Far from it, my dear. Wait. Not long hence, Catherine will be joining me. A pity don't you think, her coming to New York a young widow with a young child, fortunately an extremely rich one. Poor Lydia, that's her name, isn’t it? But she doesn't have much to live for anyway, does she?”

  Hannah reacted instinctively, grabbing the poker from the fireplace. The Captain halted her progress and grabbed her arm.

  “Try anything and I'll kill you myself. Do you understand?” she cried.

  He laughed as he reached for the door. “Poor Hannah. Trapped from all sides. Nowhere to go and you can't do a damn thing about it, except wait for the news. News that travels ever so slowly.”

  “Let me go,” she jerked her arm back from the Captain, but Gannon closed the door behind her. She could hear him laughing. She tried to go after him, but to no avail since Tom stood in her way. Thwarted by the Captain, she picked up the paper left for her benefit.

  Matthew and Ruth Reynolds announced their only daughter’s Deborah, marriage to the distinguished Captain Gabriel Chelton of Williamsburg, Virginia, now serving proudly in the Continental Army.

  The paper was well over three months old. Chills swept over her as his words echoed. “You can’t do a damn thing about it.”

  * * * *

  Night had fallen. Hannah lay quietly in her bed until she couldn't hear any movement within the halls. She estimated the time around midnight. She eased her covers back. Her riding habit would do well for her needs this night. She silently changed; listening for any noise…any creak. Ever so carefully, she reached to the bottom of the armoire. Placed within one of her mourning gowns she was never allowed to wear, she pulled out a flintlock pistol she had confiscated long ago. Loaded and ready to use. She grabbed her cloak from the back of her chair. She securely placed the pistol inside her pocket. She tiptoed over to her door. No noise.