Angels & Patriots

by Salina B Baker

  Two-year-old Mary cried.

  “All right children, kiss me goodnight; then off to bed,” Joseph said. He pulled Mary in close and kissed the top of her blond head. Mary stopped crying and plopped a thumb in her mouth.

  Mercy took Mary from Joseph. The three older children kissed their father and bid him a goodnight. Mercy herded the children out of the study, but not before she attempted to garner Joseph’s attention. Her greatest wish was to become the next Mrs. Joseph Warren.

  Joseph did not acknowledge her.

  Colm poured himself a whiskey and sat across from Joseph.

  Joseph chuckled, “When children are present, most adults try to appear amused by their presence and give the pretense that the youngsters are adorable. You looked absolutely terrified.”

  Colm gulped down the whiskey. “I’m not terrified of children.”

  Joseph laughed. “I believe you are. Do you not know any cherubs?”

  “What are cherubs?”

  “Angels that appear as chubby cheeked children.”

  “Joseph, ya need a lesson in the realities of Heaven.”

  Joseph became serious. “Then enlighten me. Why was Michael confused when I asked him if he was in pain?”

  “Ya question confused me and Ian, too.”

  “Are you saying your body does not feel pain when it is injured?”

  “Is that what ya were asking Michael?”

  “Yes.”

  “We feel pain in our spirits because that’s what we really are. We aren’t flesh and blood. Michael’s body may hurt, but that’s not where he feels pain.”

  “If a demon injures your body, the injury will kill you?”

  “If a demon injures our body it’s only a visible sign of the attack on our spirit, and if a demon injures our spirit, we will die, but not in the human sense of death. It’s true the body won’t heal and the body could die, but our bodies and our spirits are not the same thing any more than ya body and ya soul are the same thing.”

  Joseph frowned and nodded.

  “Humans associate life and death with a living body. Angels don’t because we weren’t created with a physical form.”

  “How does an angel die?”

  Colm got up to refill his glass. He stared into the fireplace, drank down the whiskey and returned to his seat.

  “Colm,” Joseph insisted, “how does an angel die?”

  Damn ya, Joseph, for making me say the words. “We’re chained in eternal darkness.”

  Fifteen

  On March 7, the day following Joseph’s oration at the Old South Meetinghouse, a meeting of the Committee of Safety under the illegal Massachusetts Provincial Congress was held. Samuel Adams was notably present for the first time.

  The Suffolk Resolves, which Joseph penned in cooperation with other delegates of the Suffolk Convention in September 1774, called for a boycott of British goods in Massachusetts. At that time, Samuel Adams and John Adams were attending the Continental Congress in Philadelphia. Joseph had written to Samuel before the convention began, seeking his advice on the matter of the resolves; however, Samuel’s reply did not arrive in time.

  Paul Revere served as courier and carried the Suffolk Resolves to Philadelphia and the Continental Congress. The congressional delegates unanimously approved the opposition that their countrymen in the Massachusetts Bay Colony were presenting to the latest unjust, cruel, and oppressive acts of the British Parliament.

  This was the boycott Jeremiah had told Colm about the day before the angels left Burkes Garden for Boston. It was the first time Colm had heard of the Continental Congress.

  Under the Suffolk Resolves, the poor of Massachusetts would have suffered if not for the generosity and patriotism of the colonies including Montreal, Canada. The loyalists despised this show of support and hoped that Boston might suffer more.

  With the support of the Committee of Safety, Samuel Adams wrote endless letters of thanks to the colonies that sent donations to Boston. He never failed to include encouragements to the greater patriotic movement.

  John Adams, who regularly published under the pseudonym Novanglus, did not openly write of inevitable independence, but his pen scratched out missive after missive regarding the liberties of the colonies and the dangers they faced.

  These writings did not go unanswered by the pen of the many loyalist pseudonyms.

  On March 14, the Committee of Safety focused on a proposed army, and the activities necessary to watch the movements of the British soldiers and the loyalists in Boston, Concord, Cambridge, and Roxbury. Fergus Driscoll and Brandon O’Flynn were among the new committee members under Chairman Joseph Warren.

  Paul Revere organized a meeting at the Green Dragon Tavern to organize the watches. By now, it was commonly agreed upon that there was a traitor in the Provincial Congress. Paul was so concerned about the secrecy of the meetings that each man was required to swear upon the Bible that their transactions would not be revealed to anyone. Paul allowed the angels’ refusal to make such a vow to God.

  Fergus was now living in Cambridge. His new appointment to major of the militia there made him the natural choice for command of the Cambridge watch.

  Brandon was given the rank of lieutenant and elected as commander of the Roxbury watch. Dr. James Prescott, Dr. Samuel Prescott’s third cousin, was in command of the Concord watch. Joseph, John Hancock, Samuel Adams, and Benjamin Church took turns, two by two, watching the British soldiers by patrolling the streets of Boston all night.

  The Provincial Congress renewed its session in Concord on March 22. The meeting under its newly elected president, John Hancock, immediately stated the necessity for putting the Colony of Massachusetts Bay in a state of defense. The congress concerned themselves with the rules and regulations of a constitutional army although they desired no war.

  Similar preparations to those in Boston were taking place throughout the colonies. In Richmond, Virginia, the colonial legislature reconvened in St. John’s church after the royal governor dissolved its proceedings in the capital at Williamsburg. One of the delegates, George Washington, a planter from Westmoreland County, promised to review Richmond’s militia, which he commanded. There was much debate on Virginia’s action on a plan of military preparedness among the delegates, including a man named Patrick Henry.

  Henry urged his fellow Virginians to arm in self-defense. In his closing appeal he uttered, “I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death.”

  Another round of debate took place. Then, by a majority of votes, Patrick Henry was named chairman of a colony-wide militia plan. Among those on his committee were George Washington and a plantation owner, Thomas Jefferson.

  The Gage’s had been in Boston six months. Margaret joined the other British officers’ wives in weekly games of Whist, which was more about gossip than cards. She listened with a disinterested ear about a handsome young widower— a doctor named Joseph Warren and his relationship with his children’s nanny, Mercy Scollay.

  On the morning of March 9, Margaret took it upon herself to seek Dr. Warren’s medical attention. She was free to leave her home to do as she pleased as long as her personal maid, and the military guards appointed by her husband for her protection, escorted her.

  Wanting to be unencumbered by others, she claimed she was afflicted with a female matter and needed to remain in bed. To her relief, or suspicion, her personal maid, twenty-six-year old Constance McCaskey was absent. Constance had developed a perverse carnal attraction for General Henry Hereford and Margaret believed that Henry was enjoying Constance’s favors often.

  Margaret slipped out of the house, cloaked and hooded, and hurried through the streets of Beacon Hill to Hanover Street. She paused at Dr. Warren’s front door. What was she going to tell him once she was inside?

  She could not confess her true identity nor was she certain she was able to convey the source of her sleepless nights without appearing as if she had the vapors. Her doubt intensified when
a woman, who she assumed was Mercy Scollay, opened the door.

  Mercy raised one delicate eyebrow when she saw Margaret.

  “I am here to see Dr. Warren,” Margaret said.

  “As a patient?”

  “Of course as a patient!”

  Mercy regarded her with doubt. It was not unusual for unescorted women to seek Joseph’s attention—medical or otherwise. What is this beautiful elegant woman’s real intention in seeking out Joseph? One would think she has her own family physician.

  Margaret felt judged by this servant and an element of self-satisfaction emboldened her. “Is Dr. Warren in?”

  “He is with a patient. In fact, he has appointments all morning. Unless your condition is dire, I suggest you write your name, address, and symptoms in the daybook. Either Dr. Eustis or Dr. Warren will call on you as soon as one of them is available.”

  “That is not possible. I must see Dr. Warren today. I will wait until he can see me.”

  “As you wish,” Mercy huffed. She had no choice but to let this woman enter the house. “Follow me.”

  Margaret crossed the threshold. She heard hushed voices as they passed a closed door on their way to the dining room that served as a waiting room. Mercy stopped near the open doorway and motioned for Margaret to enter. Margaret stepped into the warm room.

  She immediately noticed a large painting of an unadorned, very young woman hanging on the far wall. Donned in a beautiful sweeping dress and lounging in a chair, the woman looked bored.

  “Fill out an entry in the daybook with your name and a description of your discomfort. Once you have done that, I will inform Dr. Warren,” Mercy instructed. “The book is on the table to your right.”

  Margaret’s eyes remained on the painting. “Who is that woman?”

  “Elizabeth Hooten Warren. She is…was Dr. Warren’s wife. She passed on two years ago.”

  Joseph’s oldest son ran into the room. “Mercy! Mrs. Revere brought the food for our picnic! Can we go now? Pleeezzz?”

  Mercy made no excuses nor did she scold young Joseph for entering the patient waiting room, although it was forbidden. She smiled at the boy and said, “Yes, we may go now. Be sure to bundle up. It is cold outside.”

  “Betsey! Mercy said we may go now!” Joseph shouted to his unseen older sister. He darted out of the room. Mercy followed without a backward glance in Margaret’s direction.

  Margaret waited all morning and into the early afternoon as patients came and went, escorted by a young man they addressed as Dr. Eustis. She heard the grandfather clock in the hallway chime half past one.

  “Miss Kemble?”

  She looked up into his smiling face.

  “I am Dr. Warren. Please, follow me.”

  She signed the daybook with her maiden name, hoping to maintain anonymity, but the fear of being discovered for who she really was dissolved. The descriptions of his beauty did not hold a candle to his true appearance. His blue eyes were alight with vigor. His neatly coiffed sandy-blond hair framed the perfect oval of his face. The tales of his kindness as a physician were evident in his gentle composed demeanor.

  In that moment, Margaret knew that she needed no powders or potions to sleep at night. All she needed was to experience the touch of this younger man. The fantasy brushed her inner thighs like the wings of an angel. In horror, she realized her right hand had traveled to her lap.

  “You are, Miss Kemble?” Joseph asked. Margaret was not alone in the throes of sexual admiration. Joseph was taken somewhat aback by his new patient’s elegant beauty. And, like Mercy, he found it difficult to believe she had merely wandered into his medical practice in need of a family physician.

  Mrs. Thomas Gage rose in answer to Dr. Joseph Warren’s question. He turned and walked out of the waiting room. She followed. Then, they were alone in the examination room. Joseph did not remember offering her a chair. Margaret did not remember sitting down.

  He said, “I read the complaint you wrote in the daybook. I apologize, but it was unclear to me whether you are having difficulty falling asleep or staying asleep.”

  Her mind heard his words and understood none of them. “What?”

  Joseph’s eyes drank in her unblemished face, brown eyes, straight nose, and mass of brown hair piled in seductive curls on the top of her head. His eyes dropped to the hint of ample cleavage that peaked over the bodice of her elegant dark blue gown. Her breathing quickened. The rise and fall of her chest was hypnotic.

  He blinked to break the trance. This woman is a member of a social circle far beyond my reach, yet she sought me out. She is hiding something, and if I allow her to stay, I will be a party to her deceit. But that intrigue was the reason he did allow her to stay. “Miss Kemble…is it?”

  She forced herself not to look away. “Yes.”

  “I find it hard to believe a lovely woman such as you is unmarried, but I suppose that is none of my affair.” He waited for her reaction and when none was forthcoming, he said, “As I asked before, are you having trouble falling asleep or staying asleep?”

  “Both, I suppose.”

  He moved closer to her and slipped his hand under her chin so he could look into her eyes. They were bright and clear. “Is there something in particular that troubles you so that you cannot fall asleep? Pain or discomfort? Perhaps a disturbance?”

  “I am not suffering from vapors if that is your meaning,” she said, insulted.

  Joseph slid his hand out from under her chin, frowned, and took a step back.

  There, I have broken this ridiculous lascivious game, she thought. But the stirring she felt between her legs longed for this to be anything but a game.

  “I am not insinuating anything, Miss Kemble. You have come to me in need of a physician to treat you for sleeplessness, and these questions are necessary for me to issue a proper diagnosis and treatment to restore the balance of your bodily humors.”

  “I apologize. Yes, I have been experiencing anxiety due to an unwanted house guest.” She looked down at her sweating clasped hands.

  Joseph fought the urge to pull her up out of the chair and kiss her lips. He swallowed and said, “I understand. I will prepare a remedy for your insomnia. It should not take long.”

  The sound of William Eustis’ voice in the hall snapped Joseph out of his insensibility. “I will escort you back to the waiting room.”

  Margaret nodded and stood up. She followed Joseph.

  Thirty minutes later, she was on her way back to Province House. She had gotten what she had come to get from Dr. Warren. Much, much more than she had hoped for.

  Sixteen

  Michael’s injuries healed on their own, which meant he and Dr. Samuel Prescott had been attacked by ordinary men. When Ian rode to Concord to visit Sidonie on March 20, he called on Samuel to see how he was recovering. As Ian had predicted, Lydia Mulliken was there caring for her fiancée, who was feeling much better.

  With Colm, Seamus, and Brandon engaged in the proceedings of the Provincial Congress and the Committee of Safety, the remaining four members of the brotherhood and Jeremiah were tasked with ensuring the farm was in working order, the house and kitchen were supplied, muskets and pistols were cleaned and oiled, cartridges were prepared, and horses were cared for.

  On March 24, under Colm’s order, Patrick, Michael, and Liam went on foot to Boston to drill with the militia on the eastern edge of Boston Common where Gage’s troops were not bivouacked.

  Liam’s mind was on the visit he had arranged with John and Abigail Adams after the drills.

  The boys kept glancing at him. Finally, Patrick asked, “Why are you wearin’ them fancy clothes, Liam?”

  Liam had merely emulated what he had seen, believing that it was a step toward assimilating into human society. He had taken note of the Adams’ clothing at the Boston Massacre commemoration and had gone to William Dawes to ask where he could get similar clothes. William had raised an eyebrow and recommended a tailor.

  “I have no money,” Liam admitted
.

  “Then offer something in exchange for a new shirt and breeches.”

  “What do you mean?”

  William thought for a moment, then said, “I will take care of the payment.”

  Liam now realized that his new clothing was an attempt to please Abigail. He glanced at the boys. To his relief, they seemed to have lost interest in the answer when Patrick said to Michael, “Let’s go to the Green Dragon while we’re waitin’ on Liam.”

  Michael shook his head. “I want to find a tavern where there’s pretty girls. I never see any at the Green Dragon.”

  “That’s because there ain’t no whores at the Green Dragon. Besides, it’s safer at the Green Dragon. There’s less of a chance we’ll get attacked by demons there. You’re lucky them men that went after you and Samuel was human.”

  “I’m not scared of demons,” Michael protested. “Colm doesn’t want us to be scared so I’m not scared.”

  “Who’re you tryin’ to convince?”

  Michael shrugged.

  “I’m surprised Colm’s lettin’ us split up like we’ve been doin’, considerin’ the demons know we’re here,” Patrick said. “He hated it when any of us left Burkes Garden, especially without tellin’ him.”

  Liam spoke up. “Things are different now.”

  “They’re worse,” Patrick said.

  They entered the commons and walked toward a gathering of men.

  “He wants you to think for yourself; understand the consequences of your actions,” Liam said.

  They stopped walking.

  Liam looked at them. “Colm has protected us for millenniums. If something happens to him who will protect us?”

  Michael’s pouty lower lip quivered and Patrick thought of Seamus chained in the eternal darkness of death. Both boys’ wings rustled.

  Liam heard the rustling and was aware of the boys’ distress, but he continued anyway, “We may have to stand on our own without Colm.”