Her cousin swirled to face her, holding Hannah at the elbows. “Did you not say you were to attend a ball? Have you what you shall wear? You cannot go in just any gown—”
Hannah shook her head, a wry grin tugging at her lips. She sidestepped her cousin, pulling her to follow. “Even if I wished a new gown, I haven’t coin enough to purchase one or time enough to make one.” A feathery memory of the gown she’d seen in Duxbury tickled her mind, but with a shake of her head, it blew away. “Nay, I am content with this bit of ribbon for my hair—your graciousness in purchasing it for me shall not be forgotten.”
Caroline tried to protest, but Hannah spoke over her playful pleadings with a light chuckle. “In truth, I must be on my way.”
Lips scrunched and twisted, Caroline’s pert expression made a smile form on Hannah’s face.
Sighing, Caroline shrugged and continued walking in the direction they’d been heading. “This way is home then, so we shall continue—but do not look ill upon me if I cannot resist pulling you aside for another glance in the shoemaker’s shop. I hear they’ve a lovely new pair of red shoes. Have you not always wanted a red pair?”
Grinning, Hannah hugged her cousin closer, wishing with all her soul she would not have to say farewell to such a friend.
They reached the corner where the shoemaker’s shingle reached out, iced in place by winter’s bony fingers. They hurried across the street, and Hannah gasped at the figure walking opposite them on the other side of the road.
Caroline followed her vision and sighed, her shoulders visibly drooping as much as Hannah’s. “That man looks so much like your father.”
Hannah swallowed and kept on, stopping in front of the window. “I fear seeing him again. Though I know I will…” She allowed both her words and thoughts to fall away.
Taking her hand, Caroline offered comfort in the softening of her eyes. “I know you wish things to be mended.”
Would they ever? “I must place my heart only upon things I can control, I suppose. And leave the rest to Providence.”
“You can control what you wear to the ball.”
The sudden change of subject made Hannah smile once more. “You are more eager for that night than I am.”
“I cannot understand why.” Caroline’s eyes went wide and playful. “You will look so utterly breathtaking—you shall steal every attention in the room.” She looked forward, chin slanting up. “As I cannot go myself, I shall require you to inform me of every detail to exactness.”
Hannah laughed through closed lips, forcing her reluctant feet to begin walking again. “That I will be most happy to relate, though I doubt I shall steal every attention in the room. I am hardly beautiful, and certainly not as young as I used to be.”
With a gasp, Caroline stopped midstep. “If you believe that, you are hysterically mistaken.” She must have sensed the demand in Hannah’s stare not to argue the point any longer, so she continued walking again, not speaking until a mother and child darted into the cooper shop beside them. “It matters not what you think, for I know it to be true, and without question Joseph will think you the loveliest woman in the world. This I know.”
Swept away by the thought, Hannah allowed her girlish imagination to tug her to the future. Would he think her lovely? Would he stare overlong and offer that bewitching half smile she loved so well?
“Caroline, there you are!” A woman approached them in the street, her arms laden with a full basket of fabric. “I have been in search of you.”
Chirping with delight, Caroline turned toward the voice. “Anna, how good to see you.”
The two shared a quick embrace before Caroline swung aside. “Anna, allow me to introduce to you my dear cousin Hannah Young. Hannah, this is Mrs. Anna Donaldson.”
Donaldson? She couldn’t be the wife of the man she’d met in camp, could she? Captain Donaldson’s wife?
Hannah grinned, struck by the woman’s unbound beauty. “’Tis a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Donaldson.”
“Such a beautiful name you have. And please, you must call me Anna.” The lovely woman lowered her chin, her striking pale eyes beaming with warmth belying their color. She shifted the basket and rested a hand on the slight swell of her belly. “How good it is to meet you. Are you visiting? I have not seen you in town before.”
“I am just leaving, in fact. I must return to Plymouth before dark.”
“My goodness, you did not travel alone, I trust?”
The polite question niggled against her already sore conscience. “’Tis not so very far.”
“Well, I hope you will travel safely. And do come back. I should be glad to get to know you better.”
Such sincerity from a stranger? Light beamed from the inside out. “I should like that very much indeed.”
Perhaps leaving Eaton Hill would not be so terrible. Her father might be here, but with such good friends to be had? She might find the distraction was just what she needed.
Anna moved her attention to Caroline, voice slightly more somber. “I must speak with you. Do you have a moment? I shan’t keep you long.”
Caroline glanced to Hannah, and she immediately insisted. “Oh, please. Take what time you need.”
Turning around to allow the women privacy in what they spoke, Hannah focused on the street and shops behind her. Sandwich had changed little in the ten years she’d been gone. The print shop was new, but the rest seemed almost as she’d left it.
Absentmindedly, she strode a few paces away, looking into the window of the shoemaker’s at that lovely red pair of shoes Caroline went on about. A movement inside caught her attention, and she glanced up, her spine instantly rigid.
Lungs refusing to take air, Hannah’s fears careened down the slope of her already banked emotions. She would know that profile anywhere, with or without the red coat.
Greene.
Had he seen her? Lord, no. He seemed so interested in the conversation with another soldier and the shop owner, perhaps he hadn’t.
Her pulse raged, and she took a step back when he turned and stopped, just as abrupt as she had, his glare crashing through the glass.
Racing away from the door, she grabbed Caroline at the arm. “I need to go.”
Both women must have seen the way her blood drained from her head, the dizziness almost stealing her balance.
Caroline stilled, voice thin. “Of course.” She nodded to her friend in parting and grabbed Hannah by the arm, racing around the first corner, stealing home the back way through the wood.
Not stopping for breath, they reached Caroline’s house in a handful of minutes.
Gasping, Caroline spoke before Hannah did. “What happened?”
Hannah pressed a hand to her chest, unable to speak until she’d gained more of her breath. “I think I was seen.”
“By whom?”
Dear God, what had she done? She froze, unable to answer. The foolishness of her actions bit her skin like the end of a snapped whip. If she were caught, Joseph might be discovered as well…
“Hannah.” Caroline shook her at the shoulders, her attentive, wise eyes pouring strength into Hannah’s empty vessel. “Are you sure? Perhaps ’twas just a trick of the glass. I heard no footsteps behind us.”
That meant little. The man was wily, tenacious. Murderous.
Her mind refused to calm. “I don’t know. It seemed as if he looked directly at me.”
“I pray he did not.” Again, Caroline tried to persuade her. “Should you not stay here? At least until tomorrow. Perhaps—”
“Nay.” Hannah glanced around, her foolishness in staying overlong berating what bliss she’d enjoyed. “I must get back as soon as possible. If I do not, I fear Joseph will come searching for me.” Her mind shook, winds of fear and foolishness stripping bare her former strength. “I…” Shaking her head, she hurried to the barn for her horse. “I must go.”
Caroline followed after her. “Hannah, please. ’Tis unwise to—”
“All I have done these pa
st days is unwise.” The bitter truth assailed her as she secured her saddle and mounted. “Pray for me.”
Her cousin’s solemn expression voiced so much in a single look. Worry, hope, love. She reached for Hannah’s hand and squeezed, her throat bobbing, as if she restrained the emotions that etched her face, before pulling back and smacking the horse on the rump with a loud “yaw.”
Hannah gripped the reins, darting down the back road toward home, praying as she had never prayed before.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Joseph rocked back and forth with Anvil’s leisurely pace, straining not to reveal how the plague of anxiety stung him. He wanted to race home, find if Hannah had yet returned or was still in Sandwich. But his companion seemed none too concerned about their lack of speed.
Glancing to Higley, who rode beside him, Joseph pondered the man who’d been his companion since before the sun had fully risen. Joseph released a heavy breath. It seemed more like ten days than ten hours since they’d left Eaton Hill. Since then they’d been to Plymouth and Duxbury, at last to return when the sun was bidding a reluctant farewell, the pale sky deepening to a striking indigo.
Weary to the bone, he shifted in his saddle, the creak of the leather the only sound other than the soft clip-clop of the horses’ hooves on the frozen ground. Thank the Lord they were now only a few miles from home.
“’Tis good Major Stockton chose to stay behind, clean up the rest of the mess.” Higley’s tone was easy, relaxed. “To own the truth, I can scarce believe the outcome.”
Joseph turned his head toward Higley. The sudden and surprising confession from one so silent begged for more. “Aye?”
Higley’s shoulder’s dropped, and he sighed, rubbing the scar on his ear as if it still pained him. “I was certain we would witness a hanging.”
“As was I.” He spied the man, allowing his deeper thoughts to feel the air. “Major Pitman showed more leniency than I might have imagined.”
“Aye. He’s desperate to find the informant, but I have a feeling the man will never be found.”
“So this man is…sharing information with the Patriots?”
Head bowed, Higley looked at the reins in his hand, then back up. “We know little. Except that certain of our information has in fact ended up in the hands of Washington. Exactly what or how much is unclear, but they know our movements.” He looked to Joseph. “’Tis owed to you that Willis is still alive. Spying is not taken lightly.”
Joseph’s chest went tight. “If the guns had not been there, I am sure both Willis and I would have felt the bitter end of a rope.”
The look Higley threw was sharp as steel. “If the guns had not been there, nor your story so convincing, I fear you would have suffered more than a sudden drop.”
Scowling at the thought, Joseph stared forward to the vacant road, trying to lure his worries away from the one person they seemed ever eager to encompass. He wondered, not for the first time, what would have happened to Hannah if indeed he’d been taken…tortured…killed. Would they have done the same to her as well?
Higley rested both hands on the front of his saddle, his expression and statement comfortable. “You are brave to do what you do.”
Did he really mean what Joseph thought he did? He couldn’t. But Higley’s words were so pointed it seemed there was something hidden behind their casual sound. Joseph’s muscles turned rocklike, his jaw locking. Giving Higley no more than a cursory glance, Joseph kept his torso forward, his voice mute. Surely he didn’t.
Higley went on as if Joseph had invited more conversation instead of trying to silence it. “I admire you—and your cousin. There is much to be feared, but that seems to not deter either of you.”
Pressing on the stirrups, Joseph moved backward on his seat, pretending composure despite his piling suspicions. “Should not a man—or woman—do their duty despite the risks? Taking on such work is what Hannah and I wanted. The king must be defended, and I can only say I am glad we are believed. For as Willis knows too well, there is much of lies about, much of secrecy.”
Higley pulled his lip between his teeth, his horse tugging at the reins, as if she wished to move faster. “I do hope you will be careful. Both of you.”
Joseph shrugged the comment away. “We shall do our best, but there is little to fear from one’s friends.”
“Stockton is not your friend.” Higley’s voice became sharp as an icy barb. “You know not with whom you trifle.”
He pulled his horse to a stop, and Joseph did the same, his skin bepricked with retained panic. His voice refused to work, his glare speaking loud enough to scrape the bark from the trees. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Nay, you do not.” Higley answered in the kind of whisper that could crack iron. “He was prepared to have a woman hanged not five months ago. If not for Donaldson and Smith’s intervention, he would have taken her life without a thought.”
The blood drained from Joseph’s head. Why had Nathaniel not said something of this? Why had not Donaldson? Confusion and fear plaited down his back.
Higley went on. “Do not suppose that his attraction to Hannah will make him any less likely to hang her should she be discovered.”
Joseph swallowed, attempting to lubricate his suddenly hoarse voice. “Discovered? What are you speaking of?”
Anvil could sense the rising tension. He sidestepped, shaking his head and grunting, but Joseph could do naught to calm him, for his own anxieties were cinching around his throat.
The next Higley spoke seemed unreal, as if said from afar. “I know what you do and who you are—both of you. But how I know, I cannot reveal.” Higley brought his mount as near to Anvil as he could. “If you do not use everything within your power to remain covert, you will be discovered and you will be killed.”
Body numb, Joseph stared, struggling to read the man’s hard expression. “You cannot be serious.”
Higley’s expression clutched Joseph at the chest like a vice.
“If you truly love her, you will get her as far from here as possible, as soon as you can.”
A wintery breeze iced through him. There were too many revelations in Higley’s words to settle on one. They flew around him like snowflakes on a circling wind. Who was this man, and how in heaven’s name did he know so much?
More, how did he know Joseph loved Hannah when he wasn’t prepared to admit such a thing himself?
Joseph sidestepped the swirling questions to face the one most glaring, no longer attempting to ignore the obvious. “What of Stockton? Will not he go after her—us—once we have fled?”
“If you leave now, you may have a chance.” Higley looked up the road, then back the way they’d come and kicked his horse to move again.
Joseph followed.
“Once they discover your involvement, his shame will be revealed to all—that he trusted the enemy with secrets he should not have. He will not rest until you are found.”
“You speak of the enemy, but do so as if I am not one.”
Higley’s jaw ticked. “What you are to them is what should most concern you.”
Still, the man would be so secretive? So much information offered, but so little declared.
Joseph gnawed the inside of his lip, heart racing at a speed he hadn’t known, filling his muscles with blood and resolve. “We shall make the decision we believe best.” If Higley would be cryptic, so would Joseph. “I thank you for your warning. It is duly noted.”
Nodding, Higley glanced away, visibly displeased with the reply. He motioned to the split in the road. “This is where I leave you.”
Joseph tipped his hat, allowing them to part before he stalled, calling after Higley, freeing the question that burned a path through his chest. “Captain. How know you I love her?”
“It lives in your eyes.” Higley inclined his head, a smile ever so slight. “Take care. I doubt you will be able to conceal it much longer.”
With that, Higley pulled his horse around and charged
into the darkened road, leaving Joseph’s shredded disguise to fall to pieces around him.
Dear Lord. He was surely not that transparent, was he?
Anvil grunted and nudged his head toward home. Joseph tapped him to a run. He had much to tell, much also to conceal. Hannah should not learn of Higley’s knowledge of them. ’Twould cause too much alarm, and she dealt enough with burgeoning anxieties.
His pulse charged. Hannah had best be home. If she was not…he would make sure she never left the house without him again.
* * *
Despite the biting cold and the way her breath froze on the air with every exhale, Hannah’s body pumped with heat. She rode into the yard, slowing her mount to a trot, startled at the darkness of the house. No lamps or candles flickered in the windows. Though the sky had yet to wrap fully in black, she knew naught could be seen in the house without the aid of a flame. Was no one home?
Limbs buzzing, unease afresh in her veins, she pulled to a halt and slid to the ground. Racing to the door, she flung it open, shoving aside the childish fear that some unseen ill awaited her in the shadows.
“Joseph?” Her voice echoed through the vacant room.
Blackness spilled through the parlor like ink across a table, pooling in the corners. She fumbled to light the candle at the table beside the door, only fully breathing when its yellow glow offered a pale flickering through the room.
“Joseph?” She closed and latched the door, unable to smooth away the ripples in her voice. “Joseph, are you here?”
Hannah darted through the parlor to the kitchen, and alarm raised the tiny hairs at her neck. The entire house appeared untouched. Even the biscuits she’d placed in the basket that morning were as she’d left them. But the note was missing.
She spun back around, looking toward Stockton’s room and called for him, but again silence mocked her. Panic increased the pace of her lungs. No one was here. She peered through the window toward the foundry, which looked equally abandoned. Her hands began to slick with sweat on the swooped handle of the candlestick.
The stale scent of the neglected fire brought to mind a hundred frightful scenarios. She grabbed her petticoat and raced up the stairs to check the rooms and nearly choked with despair as another, more frightening thought cut her at the knees. Perhaps Joseph had been discovered? Perhaps even now he was—
So Pure a Heart (Daughters of His Kingdom Book 4) Page 24