After drying my eyes on Jeremiah’s coat, I left King’s Arms. By the time I reached Pennington House I was walking normally once more, though I was sure my legs would ache for the week to come. Davy must have been waiting for me. He opened the door before I had even stepped onto the porch. I could see Doll standing right behind him, gesturing at me.
Mother was passing through the front hall as I entered. “There thee are, Hannah! Thee look just as tired as I feel. Doll said thee’d gone in search of a letter from our Friends in London.”
I shot a glance toward Doll.
She stared back at me, daring me to say anything different. I might have, had it not been guaranteed to plunge us both into deep trouble.
Mother sighed. “I spent the whole day trying to track it myself, without success. Where did thee find it?”
“I didn’t. I never saw it.”
“Well. That’s discouraging. A whole day wasted! Perhaps we’ll find out at Meeting who has it.” Her smile was bright, though it wobbled a bit at the corners.
“Perhaps thee will.” I had no intention of attending.
I was not allowed to leave the Meeting as easily as that, however. The elders came to Pennington House the next afternoon to reason with me. But as much as my father tried to explain away my words, I corrected him at every opportunity. And by the end of their visit, only a very hopeful soul would have thought my words anything but sincere, my heart anything but compromised.
Upon departing, one of them lingered. “Thee must know that if this is how thee feel and what thee believe, then we must disown thee.”
“I know it.”
Father was looking anxiously between myself and him. “She does not know what she’s saying.”
“Her words have the feeling of conviction behind them. And thee must remember that those who have been persuaded from the truth may not be called Friends.”
I hoped that would be the end of it, but I was mistaken. On first day, Sunday, my parents brought a guest home with them for dinner. My uncle was none too pleased and I was quite surprised. I nodded as he greeted me. “Jeremiah Jones. I had not expected to have the pleasure of thy company at Pennington House.” A smile to rival his own played at my lips.
“I’m here to impress upon you the error of your ways.”
A thing I never would have expected.
“Any sensible person such as myself—a sincere admirer of the Society of Friends—will tell you that you’ve been overcome by pride.”
“Pride?”
He slid a glance toward my father, who was trying to explain to Uncle the reason for Jeremiah’s visit. “And stubbornness.” He leaned closer. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d left?”
“I would have told thee on fourth day, but thee had no time to listen. And after . . . well.” I shrugged.
He was close enough that I could catch the scents of leather and rum that hung about him. “At least I won’t have to attend those Meetings anymore in order to see you. I’ve received from John two invitations to the Meschianza tomorrow. You must come with me.”
“I can’t.” And I wouldn’t have wanted to after seeing what those officers expected Polly to wear.
“If you’re in attendance, then no one can question your involvement.”
“I cannot come. I promised my father that no meetings would be arranged between us.”
“What does it matter now? All will be over tomorrow night. For better or for worse. For once, can’t you just be defiant?”
I smiled. I could not help myself. “ ’Tis all I’ve been since I met thee.”
“Why can’t you just—”
I laid my hand against his cheek. I did not care who saw me.
He stilled, though his eyes yet blazed.
“I gave my word. And even though I’ve left the Meeting, my word must be true or it becomes nothing at all.”
“But it’s the best way—the only way—to save yourself.”
“ ’Twas never about myself, Jeremiah.”
“Then—dash it all!” His voice had gone hoarse with emotion. “Let it be about me. ’Tis the only way to save me. Because if they suspect you—”
“If they suspect me, then God will grant me courage to face them. Of that I have no doubt.” I had to believe that was true.
“You don’t know what they do to traitors.”
“I know what they do to prisoners. And it cannot be much worse.”
“But—”
“Hush thee now.”
“I’m not some child. And I can’t just let you give yourself away.”
“ ’Tis not up to thee, Jeremiah.”
“Then give me some hope.” He eyed my father and then took my hand in his and squeezed it. “For us.”
Hope. He was asking for hope in a world gone mad. What was there to hope for? Robert was dead. The tunnel might not even be finished. The prisoners were more likely to be captured than to make it to patriot lines. And yet . . . this escape was about people, not causes. And now, Jeremiah and I were just the same. We were two people unattached to causes who had only each other to care for.
“Please, Hannah. I need to know that afterward I’ll still be able to see you. I do not want our partnership to end.”
Partnership. There was something, some hidden place inside my heart, that thrilled to hear his words. But I did not dare to think on them too much, not before the escape was accomplished. If there had been danger in our actions before, the next evening they would increase threefold. Unless every man of the prisoners in Robert’s cell and the ones next to it escaped, I had great reason to fear that my role would eventually be revealed.
The next morning, the day of the Meschianza, Polly was up with the sun. She sent Jenny in a dozen different directions at once and then began a loud lament about slaves never wanting to work.
“That is not true, cousin! Were I to give thee twelve different things to accomplish and no time in which to accomplish them, I would bemoan thy slothfulness as well.”
“I did not—”
“Thee will never be ready in time if thee don’t allow Jenny to complete the tasks already given her.”
Polly flounced over to a chair and sulked while Jenny continued with the preparations. By dinnertime I could bear the tension in the room no longer. I stayed in the parlor to pass the time until the major came to collect Polly. It seemed every member of the household had that same idea. When Polly finally descended the stair, we were all of us attendant upon her together. And a great silence fell upon us all as we beheld her in the costume.
“I cannot be silent any longer!” I jumped as Father roared at my side. “This is an outrage! Completely decadent and immodest. I have tolerated disrespect and impertinence. I have lived in a household given over to frivolity, and I have added to the burden of those enslaved. But this cannot be borne! A daughter of this city should not be paraded around by those blackguards as if she were some infidel!”
Polly had gone white, though her eyes glittered with rage.
Uncle was looking at her as if he had never seen her before.
Aunt had put a hand to her mouth.
“I think, perhaps . . .” Uncle looked as if he did not know what to think at all.
“Father!” Polly went to him, hands clasped at her chest. “You cannot fail to send me now. Not after I accepted the invitation and was given the gown. Not on the day of the fete.”
“I find I must agree, for once, with your uncle, Polly. You will take that . . . that . . . drape off at once. It will be returned to Major Lindley along with your regrets. This has gone on long enough. I will not have my daughter known across the city as a strumpet.”
“You can’t do this to me!”
“ ’Tis not me that’s done anything. ’Tis that major and his whole dashed army. You’ve him to thank for this spectacle.”
She stamped her foot. “You’ve ruined my life! No one will ever invite me anywhere again!”
Uncle was unmoved.
“I ha
te you!” She tripped up the stair, her white satin shimmering and spangles glinting, the feathers and tassels on her turban bobbing in time with her steps.
Mother patted me on the arm and then nodded toward the stair. I didn’t know what I could do for Polly, what comfort I could offer, but I did as I was commanded.
She was sobbing into her pillows as I entered the bedroom.
“Thee will spoil the gown if thee keep crying so.”
She turned a tear-streaked face toward me. “I can’t get it off.”
“Stand. I’ll help thee.”
As she stood, that dreadful turban slid toward her ear. I started first with that, disengaging it from her hair and then her hair from the feathers and tassels. Next, I started on the gown, or tried to. “Perhaps I should ask Jenny to come.”
“No.” She cast her arms about her chest as if to hide herself from view.
“Then thee must help me. How did thee get thyself into this?” I could not quite remember how Jenny and I had helped her into it before.
“I don’t know. I just slipped it on. It came so easy . . .”
“I don’t know how to aid thee.”
“Just tear it off. I don’t want it anymore!”
I couldn’t bring myself to remind her that some other girl probably would. There was certain to be one; Major Lindley was not the kind of man who would attend the event of the season alone.
“Just get it off. And then send it away.” She stood still and quiet for the moments it took me to relieve her of the garment. And then she sighed as she pulled on a short gown over her petticoats. “He’s leaving, you know. They all are soon.”
I said nothing.
“It’s not as if he doesn’t want me. He’s been ordered to New York. To the city. And it’s no place for a woman to be.”
“I can’t imagine it would be any better than here.”
“I wanted him to fancy me.”
“He did fancy thee.” It had been plain enough for all to see.
“He fancied me enough to flirt with me, but not enough to marry me.”
“Did he ever speak to thee of . . . ? There’s a girl in London, apparently.”
“He says she’s an old, ugly termagant that his family is forcing him to marry.”
I could not see how anyone thousands of miles away from here could force a man armed with a musket to do anything he did not want to do, but I could tell that such thoughts would not be appreciated.
She climbed up onto her bed. “Perhaps . . . if the British leave . . . do you think the rebels will come?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“Maybe they’ll have balls too. And keep the theater open.”
“And perhaps they’ll free the prisoners and put the State House and Penn House back to rights.”
Polly did not hear what I had said. Eyes wide open I could tell she had already set her heart to dreaming.
Over supper that evening, with everyone seated at the table, Father announced that he would be taking our family back to our house.
Ezekiel promptly burst into tears. “I want to stay with cousin!” He and young Edward had formed a fast friendship.
Mother took him away from the table. We could hear the echoes of his cries as they went up the stair. “I don’t want to go! I want to stay!”
I felt like crying as well, though for a completely different reason. I knew I had to stay—if Uncle Edward would let me—even as I truly wanted to go. I hadn’t known when we left the house that I wouldn’t be returning. I hadn’t appreciated just how many of my hopes and dreams were tied to that place.
But old things must pass away. I only hoped that new things would not be long delayed in coming, and that they would prove even half as dear as those things I was leaving behind.
Uncle Edward cleared his throat. “You’ve convinced your colonel to leave, then?”
“I demanded an interview with General Howe’s replacement himself. I told him how untenable the situation had become. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. And we thank thee for thy generous hospitality.”
Uncle lifted a glass in Father’s direction.
I would have preferred to have spoken to Father in private, but he was arranging the transition in public. I needed to make my wishes known now, before everyone dispersed for the evening. “I would prefer to stay here. If Uncle Edward would have me.”
Aunt Rebekah sent an eloquent look my way. “Of course you may stay. Of course she can, can’t she, Edward? She and Polly are of an age.”
Uncle didn’t seem to know what to make of my request. Father didn’t respond. Only Sally spoke. “But thee can’t, Hannah!”
I wished I could return to our house just so I could share my life with her again. I had missed her these past months. My little sister of ten years had grown into a girl who seemed a stranger.
“Hannah can take the spare room.” Aunt Rebekah addressed Father, making it sound as if everything had been decided. “We’ll move her things in just as soon as Doll and Jenny move your things out.” She turned around to address Davy. “You’ll take care of everything, won’t you?”
He bowed.
Aunt Rebekah beamed a radiant smile at Father. “There. It’s all decided, then!” She turned toward me. “We’re delighted to have you stay.”
Father looked none too happy about it.
“Aren’t we delighted?”
“Yes. Of course. Delighted.” Uncle Edward raised his glass in my direction and then took another drink from it.
We lingered just long enough for Mother to rejoin us. As we broke up, Aunt Rebekah drew me near. “It will all be fine. Everything will work out. You will see.”
I couldn’t see anything at all. There seemed to be no clear way ahead. But I had thrown myself on their mercy, and she had caught me. I would just have to trust that what she said was true. I only wished she could blot that terrible, accusatory look from my Father’s eyes and the pain from Sally’s voice.
Mother caught my arm as I walked from the room. “Thee are staying? But . . . why?”
“I’ve left the Meeting. Thee know I have.”
“But thee can’t have meant what thee said.”
“I meant every word.”
Sally joined us. “Thee can’t stay, Hannah!”
I took her face between my hands and kissed her cheek. My own sweet sister. “I will miss thee.”
“Hannah!” Mother’s voice was strident. “Why?” Her question was so pleading, so plaintive that I had no choice but to answer.
“Because of Robert. He was there, in that jail, and I was the only one who went to visit him. I was the only one who went to visit any of them.”
Mother clutched my arm. “How is he?”
He’s dead! Oh, how I wanted to say it. I wanted to weep with the knowledge of it. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Too many lives depended still upon my silence. So I patted her arm, disengaged myself from them both, and walked up the stair. When I got to Polly’s room, I collapsed on my bed and wept for all that I had given up.
44
Jeremiah
I spent the morning of the Meschianza carting wine from the tavern. Bartholomew helped me by loading the cart and then handling the reins. Once we got to the estate, he carried the crates inside. The fine, elegant mansion of Joseph Wharton had been repainted and redecorated. One of the outer walls had also been knocked out so that a salon could be attached to house all the guests at supper.
Everything that had been begged and borrowed from the city’s elite had been arranged in a display of magnificent gaudiness. Dozens of mirrors had been positioned to reflect the winking lights of hundreds of candles. Flowers and ribbons and shrubberies had been woven in suspension about the room. Several dozen slaves, adorned in costumes and fettered with silver necklaces and bracelets, milled about in preparation for service.
It was an utter disgrace.
Once the bottles had been delivered, we hastened from that place. Bartholomew amused himself among the throngs crowd
ing the wharf while I used a glass to survey the land out toward Germantown. Somewhere over there, tonight, General Washington would create his disturbance.
I prayed that it would last long enough for the prisoners to escape.
That afternoon, three galleys festooned with pennants and filled with officers made their way downriver. They were followed by barges carrying the military bands, and cheered by spectators filling every kind of ship that had business upon the river. Bands played. Flags fluttered. When the procession reached Wharton’s mansion, it was greeted by a seventeen-gun salute.
It was a veritable festival of foolishness. A carnival of idiocy.
That the British army should cavort and caper and frolic in full view of a city they had methodically destroyed! There was no growing thing left within the city’s limits. No fences and very few shutters. The city smelled like a latrine and looked far worse. That they had insisted on such a celebration was a testament to their complete arrogance and total disregard. If the citizens of Philadelphia had not realized it before, I hoped they would realize it now. I suspected that once the British left, the citizens would cheer the patriots’ return.
Although . . . a thought that had begun to worry at me raised its head again. What would happen once the patriots returned? They’d be set on retribution, that was certain. And they would especially target people like me. People who had seemed to embrace the Loyalist cause.
It was hardly a secret that my tavern had become a den for soldiers. And it was widely known that I was a personal friend of John Lindley. What wasn’t known at all was my part in the soon-to-take-place escape. And tonight, once it was over, there would be none to vouch for my true loyalties. I could very well end up with a noose around my neck after all. And for no good reason but that I had played my part too well.
I tugged at my cravat and then stepped outside to take some air.
As the crowd disembarked at the pier, grenadiers formed two lines with a file of light horses behind them. It was through this assembly that the guests walked up from the river toward a lawn lined with troops and prepared for an exhibition of chivalry.
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