The Messenger

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The Messenger Page 7

by Siri Mitchell


  “I thank thee.”

  I gave a nod, then looked away . . . to find John’s eyes upon me. He sent me an exuberant wink.

  He did actually think . . . ? Wait. Wait just a minute. He thought . . . if he thought I nursed an affection for Hannah, then it might not be so odd, in his eyes, to advocate for a prison pass on her behalf. I slid a look in her direction. To complete the illusion, however, I would have to act the part.

  I flashed her the smile that had once dazzled girls in three colonies. “Isn’t this companionable.”

  Her lips did not return the gesture. Instead, she raised the bowl to her mouth, took a sip. Swallowed. “It might be had I wished for a companion.”

  “Tsk, tsk.” I leaned close in what I hoped would be interpreted as a display of regard. “I have a plan. Tomorrow morning about ten of the clock, I want you to request to see Major Lindley at Howe’s headquarters at the Penn House. You may have to find a way to be brought to him.”

  “Brought to him . . . I have no intention of ever requesting to see a soldier!”

  I shrugged. “If a simple request to see him won’t work, then you might have to make a scene.”

  “Thee don’t understand—”

  “No. You don’t understand. Do you want to help your brother or not?”

  There was something going on behind those somber gray eyes. Something that took some effort to resolve.

  “I know you people are known for your peaceable ways, but if it comes to it, you may have to think of a reason to stage a fit.”

  She turned to look at me straight on. “In the case that being driven to treason in order to visit my brother would not be enough? Do thee think the fact that a red-coated colonel dismissed us from our own home just last morning would do? ”

  I felt the corners of my lips quirk. “It might.”

  The humor that had briefly flickered in the depths of those solemn eyes guttered and then went out. “I will do what I must.”

  “Once you’re inside, once you’ve been brought to the major, then you need to ask him for a pass. No matter what happens, no matter what might be said, you must ask him for a pass. And remember, no one knows about our arrangement. So just act . . . as if there’s nothing to act about.”

  Now she was frowning. “I told thee, I won’t lie for thee or for anyone else.”

  “I’m not asking you to lie. I’m simply asking you not to reveal everything you know. To pretend you’re not doing anything wrong.”

  “To pretend is to lie to oneself.”

  “Then don’t say anything at all!”

  Her eyes caught my own. “Thee might wish to lower thy voice.”

  Dash it all! I would if she didn’t vex me so!

  9

  Hannah

  The next morning over breakfast Mother leaned close and asked me to go calling with her that morning, before dinner. Which meant I wouldn’t be able to go to General Howe’s headquarters as Jeremiah Jones had requested.

  “But if I go, who will watch Jonah?”

  “Rebekah said that Jenny can do it.”

  My aunt nodded, confirming Mother’s words.

  Jenny? Jenny was one of the enslaved. “But that isn’t—”

  Mother made a motion with her hand to hush.

  The others—Aunt Rebekah and Polly; Sally, Caroline, Ezekiel, and young Edward—were all staring at us. Little Jonah had toddled off to the corner. He was having a visit with the parakeet that lived there in a cage. Father had already looked up from the newspaper. “That isn’t right? Because she’s enslaved? Is that what thee meant to say, Hannah?”

  My face flushed as I nodded. I had yet to feel as if I could speak freely and in good conscience in this house that was not our own.

  “I agree with thee. ’Tis sorry work to take advantage of those things we have purposely denied ourselves.” He made a point not to look at Mother as he spoke.

  Mother leaned around me to address him. “I’m not taking advantage, Elias. I’m simply making do for expediency’s sake. I haven’t made a call in two weeks. And ’tisn’t safe to send Hannah out, alone, to make our calls for us. She’s done too much of that lately.”

  I flushed a deeper shade of red, knowing that my walks about the city had been discovered.

  Father frowned, eyes on me, as if he was considering her arguments. “I like neither prospect. Life has demanded too many compromises of late. Would that we were all in our own homes, safe to walk about freely in our own city, with the soldiers gone and the rebellion stifled.” He sighed and turned back to his newspaper.

  “So we’ll go, then?” Mother posed it as a question, but there was no indecision in her eyes.

  “Go. And bring back some news.” Father had an insatiable craving for news. It had developed after his manufactory had closed and it had not yet been quenched. I had no doubt he would go out after us in search of news himself.

  Mother very nearly pushed me up the stair in her haste to change for calling. But as the door was opened for us to leave, we saw a man advancing up the walk toward us. “Friend Elliott!” Her whisper had a note of panic in it.

  Normally I would have shared that sentiment, but perhaps now I would still be able to keep my appointment at the general’s headquarters. If she had to stay to greet him, she might allow me to go on by myself. As she turned, I advanced. But as I reached the top step, I felt a tug on my cloak, pulling me back into the house.

  I gave my cloak up to the doorman with disappointment and joined with Mother in greeting our friend.

  Father too had been readying to go. He came down the front stair, dismay on his face. “Friend Elliott.”

  The man nodded. “I’ve come because there’s news to be had from Virginia.”

  And too bad Samuel Elliott had been entrusted with that news. It would be an hour at least before he would get to the telling of it. Though short in stature, he was overlong in speech. Father often said that if he had been just a bit more strident, he might have been mistaken for a Presbyterian and saved our Meeting half its trouble. As it was, he settled into an offered chair as if he planned to stay a while.

  But one could not long begrudge him his news. Everyone yearned for word of our Friends being held in exile. They’d been arrested along with Father by the patriot Supreme Council back in September without due process or any explanation at all. And when officials had appealed to the Continental Congress on their behalf, Congress appealed to the Supreme Council and the Supreme Council had washed their hands of the whole affair. Once they had been exiled to Virginia, there was no one who claimed the authority to release them.

  We waited for over an hour, only to hear that all the Friends were doing well and none of them was ill. Samuel Elliott left soon thereafter.

  Father minced no words. “The only benefit of lodging here, with thy sister, is being saved the prospect of having to ask people to stay for dinner.”

  Mother didn’t scold him the way she might have done had we been back at Chestnut Street. There, our house had been renowned for its board. And we could count on upwards of twenty guests dining with us during the several-day Yearly Meetings that were held in the city.

  As they stood talking, I slipped from the parlor, grabbed my cloak, and made for the door. My plan was to leave and be back before any had noticed that I’d gone. But I had not counted on the enslaved.

  “The carriage for you, Miss Sunderland?” A man had stepped from the shadows as my hand reached for the door.

  I cast a glance at the parlor. How long would it be until my parents appeared? “Hannah.”

  “Pardon me, miss?”

  “Hannah. That’s my name. And what is thy name?”

  “My name be Davy, Miss Hannah.”

  “No. No ‘miss.’ Hannah will do.”

  “It may do for you, miss, but it surely won’t do for me.”

  I might have told him all people were equal to each other in God’s eyes, but I hadn’t the time. I hoped God would forgive me. “No carriage, thank t
hee. I’m walking.”

  “You’ll want Doll, then.”

  “I want no one. I’m perfectly fine by myself.”

  “Miss Polly always takes Doll. She’s not to leave the house without her. You’re of an age, if you don’t mind my saying, and Mrs. Pennington will tan my hide if I send you out into the city alone.”

  “Thee are not sending me anywhere. I am simply going by myself.”

  He shook his head. “No, miss. Not without Doll.”

  As if she’d been summoned by the conversation, a woman appeared at his elbow. I recognized her fine, dark features. Earlier that morning she’d served us breakfast.

  He turned an admonishing eye on her. “You’ll go with Miss Hannah wherever she go.”

  Clearly there was no way to deter him, and if I dallied any longer, I would risk being seen by my parents. And I’d be late. I’d just have to let her come along. “Fine then. Let’s be going.”

  When we reached the gate, I moved to open it, but Doll reached it first. She was clearly my elder, so it didn’t seem right for me to pass through first. “Please.” I gestured her forward.

  “No, miss.”

  “Please, I insist.”

  She shook her head, slowly but with definite conviction. “No, miss. ’Tisn’t right for the likes of me to pass before you.”

  “I’m expected at General Howe’s headquarters at ten o’clock, and if thee do not pass through first, I shall feel obliged to stand here until thee do. And that will make me late.”

  She shook her head gravely. “No, miss. I know my place and it sure ain’t to go ahead of you.”

  We stood there for a moment, she, I supposed, wanting desperately to stay within the constraints that she’d been given, and me desperately wishing that she didn’t have any constraints at all. Would that she could know the truth that I did: There was that of God in everyone. And no man should bow to any but Him.

  “What if thee went first and held the gate open for me?”

  Doll pursed her lips, lifted her chin. “If that’s what you want me to do.”

  That was not what I wanted her to do, but as Mother had said just that morning, sometimes we had to settle for expediency.

  She opened the gate and held it for me. I went through it with a sigh of relief. If we walked quickly, I could still make it to headquarters on time.

  “Hannah!”

  I turned to see Mother coming down the steps, tying her hat beneath her chin as she came. “Wait for me!”

  I only had several blocks to settle on a plan.

  When we reached Third Street, I moved to the right as Mother began to turn left. Poor Doll, caught in confusion, was nearly knocked over by a cart that rumbled past.

  “Hannah—this way! We’re off to the Gilberts’. I’ve a mind to read the letter of which Friend Elliot spoke.”

  I wanted to read it as well, only not right then. Right then I had to figure out how to get to Major Lindley’s office unaccompanied. A gust of wind sliced between us, pushing our skirts against our knees. “But the Gilberts are in the Northern Liberties. We’ll be chilled to the bone before we reach them. Hadn’t we better stop at the Newlands’ first, to warm ourselves?” It was the only ploy I could think of to keep her in the city, myself along with her.

  “Perhaps . . . I suppose the letter will still be there when we arrive.”

  My knees nearly buckled in relief. At least now I could walk in the right direction, though I still had to absent myself before we walked too much farther. I could not just state that I wanted to visit the general’s headquarters, could I? I ventured a look at Mother beneath the brim of my hat. No, I could not. For if I did, then I would have to explain my purpose. I was quite sure she had never contemplated disregarding—not once in her forty years—a pronouncement of the Meeting.

  Not like I had.

  And had she ever dared to contemplate it, I knew she would never have done it.

  Not like I was going to.

  Only two blocks left. I did not know how people managed a life of deceit. It was much too taxing, in my opinion. I’d already had to insist upon changing Mother’s order of calls, and for no good reason save the cold. What could I possibly say that would convince Mother and Doll to go on their way and leave me behind?

  “I haven’t had the chance to call on the Evans in a while . . .” Mother was looking off toward Spruce Street, where Betsy lived with her family.

  “Why don’t I call on her?” I could do it after I’d stopped at Major Lindley’s office.

  Mother looked up the street toward the Northern Liberties, then back toward Spruce Street. “I’ll leave thee with Doll then. Once thee are done, thee are to come on to the Gilberts directly.”

  “Why don’t thee take Doll with thee?”

  “And leave thee unescorted? In this city filled with soldiers! Now that I’ve been blessed with good health again, there will be no more of that!”

  “It isn’t necessary—”

  “Thee must not forget that there are reputations to be defended and discarded in a city occupied by an army. I’ll see thee at the Gilberts.”

  I watched her walk, stiff with resolution, up Fourth Street. My situation, however, was no better than it had been. “Thee don’t have to stay with me, Doll.”

  “I just do what I’m told.”

  “Surely there’s somewhere else thee would rather be.”

  “If I left you here alone, Davy’d have my hide.”

  I might have tried to coax her to change her opinion, but after the navigation of the front gate at Pennington House, I had no hope for success. There was nothing to be done for it then; I started off toward the general’s headquarters, Doll following behind. Once we reached the building I was obliged to tell her the truth. “I have an appointment I must keep inside this building. Thee are free to return to Pennington House if thee wish.”

  “No, miss. If it’s the same to you, I’ll just wait right here.”

  I looked into her luminous brown eyes.

  They looked right back at me.

  “I suppose there’s no way to make thee leave.”

  “No, miss. I wish I could do what you seem to want me to, but I take my orders from Davy. And he say stick with Miss Hannah, so stick I’m going to have to do.”

  “I shall return as soon as I am able.”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Hannah.”

  “Yes, Miss Hannah.”

  Holding back a sigh, I turned from Doll and climbed the steps.

  10

  Jeremiah

  How difficult was it for a person to present herself at a particular place at a particular time? Hadn’t I told that girl to have herself shown to John’s office? At ten o’clock? Late enough to have opened up the tavern, but too early to think too hard yet about the service of dinner. I watched the minute hand of the clock that sat above John’s fireplace round the face once more.

  “. . . in any case,” John was saying, “we were told to expect a great uprising of Loyalist support once we occupied the city. And to the general’s surprise, no great numbers have volunteered for the militia.”

  “I’m sure they’ll become much more interested once spring begins to melt the snows.” Where was she?

  “You’ve lived here long enough. What do you think? Where are all these Loyalists we were promised?”

  “Who told Howe to expect them?”

  “That fellow who fled this city for New York. What was his name? Gilford? Galliard?”

  “Galloway?” Joseph Galloway, Superintendent General of the city.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Galloway’s entire fortune is linked with this city. He would have promised General Washington’s head if he thought it would make Howe liberate Philadelphia from the rebels.”

  John’s eyes went wide. “Are you saying that he lied, then?”

  “I’m saying that he might not exactly have been telling the truth. Or if he was, then it was the kind of truth that a man wishes wer
e true . . .”

  “As opposed to the kind of truth that is, in fact, true?” John’s face was growing red.

  I shrugged.

  “These infernal colonists! It’s the way it’s always been with them. Say one thing and do the other entirely.”

  Not, of course, like it had been with the Parliament: say one thing and do the other thing instead. Colonials in the army? Why not? Every man just as good as the next, except when it came to commissions. But as much as I wished to say it, as much as I wished to speak of what was unfair and unjust, I did not do it. I could not do it. Not if I wanted to maintain my position as the owner of one of the taverns most friendly to Tories.

  Not that I’d had to work very hard to earn that reputation. I was known as the man who had lost his arm in Pontiac’s War. Who would have thought that a veteran would have turned against his old master? Certainly not the hundreds of soldiers who frequented that veteran’s tavern.

  I could not afford to have my loyalties questioned, and I didn’t care a fig what the patriots thought of me. Those who had meekly looked on as Howe marched into the city. At least I was doing something about my convictions. “Colonials. Who can trust them?”

  John grinned. “Who exactly! Remember Devil’s Hole? And how many of them turned and ran?”

  I remembered.

  “It was only you and I who held the platoons together.”

  It was only me, if I remembered correctly. When the volley had started and the smoke had swirled, I had been the only one left. John had been long gone.

  “I’ve always thought fate dealt you a bad hand, Jonesy. You ought to have been born British.”

  That was the whole problem: I had been. I’d been born a British citizen on colonial soil. And the British considered me a less desirable kind of citizen for it. If there was any reason Loyalists in the countryside hadn’t risen to Howe’s call, it was that. They’d learned the bitter truth. They were acceptable but only to a point. The point at which they could take a bullet meant for a British officer. “And I’d always thought fate dealt you a bad hand, John. You ought to have been born with a handsomer nose.”

 

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