A herald and three trumpeters announced two different groups of knights who, after paying homage to General Howe and his brother, challenged each other to a joust. Lances were brandished. Shields were displayed. Salutes were passed around like cards. They came at each other with spears and pistols and swords and then finally called the tournament in a draw.
With great relief everyone repaired to the ballroom and there was much dancing, interrupted by an impressive display of fireworks, which was followed by more dancing. At midnight the salon was opened to cries of delight and general awe.
John was resplendent in his knight’s costume of white satin with silver fringe and a pink-and-white sword belt fastened with silver lacing and large pink bows. His white satin hat was decked with red, white, and black plumes. And on his arm was . . . not Polly Pennington.
It wasn’t until after the supping was over that I was able to address him. He was holding a glass of wine, staring glumly into its plum-colored depths.
“That isn’t the lovely Miss Pennington you’re escorting this evening.”
“No. Miss Pennington’s father thought the costumes far too scandalous. Apparently. My maiden is the rather dim and chinless Miss Brewster. I am doomed to be forever surrounded by graceless women.”
I couldn’t help but grin.
“You needn’t look so cheerful about it.”
“Our colonial maidens didn’t appreciate being dressed as Turks?”
“I rather thought they look like they’re enjoying themselves.”
I glanced around the room. In my opinion they looked as if they thought they ought be enjoying themselves. But there were telltale signs. Hands frequently lifted to adjust the position of a turban. Fingers tugging up sleeves made of slippery satin. Smiles that weren’t quite so wide as they might have been.
“You’re without your usual companion as well.” He had turned a bleary eye in my direction. “Miss Sunderland.”
Hannah. She ought to have been here by my side. I shrugged. “She doesn’t attend parties. She doesn’t dance. She only wears plain clothes.”
John raised his glass. “To the colonies and their maidens.”
I drunk heartily to that toast.
“You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
He squinted at me. “What’s that?”
“Have you changed your mind about your wealthy Brunhilda?”
He took a long swallow. “Don’t recall her to me. Some things are best not brought to mind.”
“You’re still going through with it, then?”
“With the marriage? Of course I am. I’d be a fool not to!”
“Even when you’ve fallen in love with Miss Pennington?”
At the mention of her name, his eyes had gone soft. But then he blinked. And when he turned back to me, all traces of sentiment were gone. “I must be strong. And I must not be governed by sentiment. I’ve got the cause to uphold.”
“Cause?”
“The cause of my advancement. It takes a fortune these days to hold any position at all in the army.”
“So you’re choosing . . . ?”
“No choice about it. I’m a completely loyal man. Entirely devoted to my own interests.”
“And Miss Pennington?”
“I told her a tale about my family forcing me into marriage. She felt quite sorry for me by the time I was done. Besides, I’m sure she’ll receive dozens of proposals. From men more worthy of her hand than I.” He saluted me with his glass. Downed it in one long swallow and then lurched off to affix himself to Miss Brewster’s side.
Over at one of the tables, John André was delighting the officers with his tales of capture at the hands of General Montgomery up in Canada. Of just how backward and uncivilized the colonials were. And at one of the other tables, an officer had convinced one of the Meschianza’s maidens to dance for him like some Turkish girl.
I walked past and somehow managed to spill my entire glass of wine on him.
He pushed to his feet, blustering, while the girl backed away. I hoped she had the good sense to keep on going.
At the foot of a table, clenching a wineglass in his fist, sat a lone officer. A colonel. He was staring out a window into the darkness of the night. I sat down next to him.
He flicked a glance at me and then went back to staring out the window.
“Party not to your taste?”
He turned, propped an elbow on the table, and leaned toward me. “I told General Howe this was a mistake.”
It was. A monumental mistake.
“If I were a rebel, this would be the perfect night for an attack. Half these fools came up here on barges. I’ll bet there’s not a dozen horses for the officers, and all our infantry is back in the city. If Mr. Washington were a smart man, he could capture us all. This night. And he wouldn’t need but fifty men in order to do it.” He took a long swallow from his glass.
“What did the general say?”
“Said if they hadn’t the courage to attack us this spring, then they wouldn’t have the sense to attack us now. And besides, Washington is a gentleman. Can you imagine that? A colonial a gentleman? In any case, the party was being thrown in his honor and how could he forbid his own men to attend?”
The fool didn’t even realize he’d insulted me.
Long about one o’clock there seemed to come some change in the mood of the party. A pause in the general conversation. In the distance a series of explosions could be heard. And then, several minutes later, a staccato of drums. At tables across the salon the officers were eyeing Howe, but the general seemed oblivious to pedestrian concerns. Or thoughts of war.
Voices gradually picked up and laughter began again. But several minutes later, a soldier entered the room. Spying General Howe, he went over and bent to speak into his ear. The general jerked away. Turned to look out the window. Gestured violently for the soldier to come closer. As General Howe questioned the soldier, conversation began to wither around them. Officers pushed away from the table, leaving chairs upturned in their wake.
“That’s musket fire, isn’t it?” The officer I’d been speaking with took another sip of wine.
“Sounds like it.” I left him to follow the crowds wandering out onto the lawn. They were staring off toward where I’d trained my glass that afternoon.
One of the maidens beside me shivered. Tugged at the coat of her escort. “What is it?”
“Hmmm? Oh. I’m sure it’s just part of the festivities. The soldiers in the city wouldn’t want General Howe to leave without adding their farewells.”
The girl broke into dimples. “How kind!”
I lifted my glass and drank to the escape of the prisoners. Godspeed. To each and every one of them.
45
Hannah
Long about one of the clock I heard explosions from the direction of Germantown. They were followed soon after by the thunder of drums. It was foolish of me, but I pushed back my blanket and crept to the window. Opening the sash, I put my head out into the night. The jail was many blocks behind me, but I scoured the shadows with my gaze just the same. Wanting, hoping, praying for my will to be done.
I wanted them all to escape.
I lay there through the night, tense with worry, waiting for the watchman to call out that prisoners had escaped. But no alarm was raised, and after a while the noise ceased. Dawn’s first light somehow found me sleeping.
When I woke, it was with the thought that everything was finally finished. My part in the escape was over. There were no more visits to be paid to the jail. But even as I celebrated the end of my clandestine activity, I remembered one thing more. Today, this morning, my family would return to the house, leaving me behind. I did not know what I should do, whether I should offer to help them pack or whether it would be better if I kept myself hidden away.
Listening to the sounds of trunks being shut and footsteps treading up and down the stair, I decided to time my appearance to their leaving. I embraced my sister and my br
others as they left. I nodded at my father.
Mother kissed my cheek. “Thee are always welcome, Hannah.”
“I know it.”
“I will pray that sense comes back to thy heart.”
Just as I would pray that it always remained attuned to God’s voice.
She gave me a swift embrace and then . . . they were gone.
Aunt Rebekah took up my hand soon after, drawing me with her into the parlor. “I do not know you, Hannah, as well as I would like.”
I did not know what to say. The reason we did not know each other was because she had left the Meeting when she’d married my uncle.
“I feel badly that religion has come between our families. Perhaps . . . do you have any questions? About what your life will be now? Polly has been indulged too much, to my way of thinking. But it’s possible that you’ve been indulged too little. There is joy to be had from art and literature and music. The heart needs beauty to expand and grow. I want you to know that there is a purpose served by some of the things of which Friends disapprove.”
I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to believe that. But I did have a question for her. “Was it difficult? To leave?”
“It’s always difficult to leave people you love. But I haven’t missed the Meeting.”
“Not at all?”
“Perhaps . . . just a little. I still see those plain white walls in my dreams and sometimes I find myself missing the stillness. The silence. That anticipation of hearing from God. But you can be a Friend, Hannah, even if you’re not a member of the Meeting.”
As I looked at Aunt Rebekah and listened to her speak, I noticed something about her that I had not seen before. Though her gown was carmine in color, and though it was ornamented with trim, it was rather . . . plain. And though the furniture in the parlor was upholstered in the gayest of colors and even though it was gilded, it was not nearly as ornate as that in Polly’s room.
Aunt Rebekah was smiling at me.
I smiled back. “Why did thee leave?”
“Because I met Mr. Pennington, and I realized there were good people outside the Meeting too. People who had faith and felt it just as deeply. It didn’t seem right that they be condemned simply because they practiced their faith in the same God in a different manner.”
“It was the injustice of it all.”
“Yes. But mostly it was love. I left for love.” She looked at me for a long moment. “Now then, what about your own young man?”
I felt my brow furrow.
“I’m speaking of Jeremiah Jones. Though I suppose he’s not so young now, is he? He was terribly handsome as a young boy. Still is, if I’m not mistaken.”
“I don’t know that he’s . . . I didn’t think . . . I mean, he wasn’t . . . isn’t . . . a Friend.”
“And now you aren’t either.”
“I don’t know . . . without the Meeting. Who would approve the match?”
“Do you trust yourself to hear God’s voice?”
I nodded. I did. I’d recognized His voice back when I’d first heard it, though I hadn’t wanted to admit it.
“Then you don’t need anyone to tell you what you know in your heart already. I’ve decided we’re celebrating your coming to live with us tonight, and I took the liberty of inviting some guests to sup with us. Mr. Jones will be among them. If you would like to wear one of Polly’s gowns, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. And Jenny can help you dress.”
I thought back to the amaranth gown with fondness. But I wasn’t ready to wear it yet. It wasn’t a faith that I was leaving behind; it was the Meeting. Jeremiah would have to accept me as I was or not at all.
I donned my own plain gown with the help of Polly’s sister, Caroline. But as I walked from the bedroom, I thought the better of it and borrowed a neck kerchief of lace to tuck into my bodice.
Jeremiah was already in the parlor by the time I came downstairs with Polly. He rose as we entered and walked into the dining room with me.
“It’s kind of thee to come tonight.”
His smile brought a flush to my cheeks. It was only heightened when Aunt Rebekah seated him between herself and me.
“Your numbers seem depleted this evening.” His voice was low against the murmurs of other conversations.
But Aunt Rebekah was quick in her reply. “Hannah’s family has moved back to their home on Chestnut Street.”
We supped on turtle soup, roast duck, and boiled parsnips. And afterward, Polly played the harpsichord for us. Jeremiah was seated next to me.
When he spoke, it was in a whisper. “They escaped. At least all the men in Addison’s cell did. I don’t know about the others.”
I could not keep from smiling.
“But I have to ask you to go back to the jail on Saturday. One last time.” His eyes searched mine.
One last time? When I had hoped never to see that place again? “Why?”
“You must pretend you don’t know that your brother escaped.”
He hadn’t. “So thee want me to . . . ?”
“Go to the jail as if nothing has happened. Just the way you usually did.”
“Please don’t make me go back.”
The way he looked at me told me he understood. “You must. Just this one last time. And then it will all be over. I promise.” He took my hand in his as he said it.
I gripped it with my own.
As Polly began her second song, he spoke again. “Have you truly left your family?”
“Aye. And the Meeting as well. I couldn’t stay. Not after what I said.”
“I’m sorry.”
And the truth of it is, he was. I could see it in his eyes.
“I know what it means to be cast away from something you love.”
There was a look in his eyes that caused my heart to turn over upon itself. I dropped my gaze from his and tried to fasten my attentions on Polly’s concert. But the chords of my heart seemed to vibrate with a new awareness. What had once been forbidden was forbidden no longer. What I once despaired of having, could, quite possibly, become mine. I dared to look up at him again. “How did . . . what did thee do? When that happened?”
“I kept going on. I kept living. And eventually I found something else to love.”
Something else to love. I walked up the stair with a smile on my face and a song in my heart. Jenny had arranged my things in the spare room so I slept that night on a true bed once more. My dreams were sweet and I woke with the echo of Polly’s songs in my head. I was actually bold enough to start humming one!
Everything was different. Everything that was old had fallen away. There were no calls to make and no Friends to visit. There were no letters to search out. There was nothing that had to be done. I would have to ask Aunt how it was for her. What she did as she waited for her new life to begin.
There were so many good things to look forward to.
When I went down to breakfast, only Aunt was there. She was finishing up her tea as I entered. “Hannah! Come. Sit. We can talk as you eat.”
Doll placed a plate before me.
“Now, then. We need to introduce you around the city as my niece. I would like to obtain invitations for you to all of the events that Polly is attending.”
“Thee should not feel obliged.”
“Society needs to understand your new position.”
“And what is that?”
“Let’s think of you as our ward. Mr. Pennington’s and mine. How would that be?”
I ate in silence for a while as I thought on it.
“You’re past the age for that, of course, but it will make it easier for everyone else to understand that you’re no longer a Friend. They’ll treat you as one of us now.”
“It’s not that I don’t generally agree with the Friends.”
“Of course not.”
“Or even that I don’t want to be one of them. I still would be if . . . well.”
Aunt Rebekah sighed. “That is exactly why it’s so complicated. And why it’s be
st to keep things plain.” She smiled as she said that, knowing, I suppose, that I would appreciate the irony.
“I can’t live my life as a lie.”
“I’m not asking you to lie. I’m just asking you to help people understand how to think of you now.”
Dare I speak of my dreams? Of my fondness for Jeremiah? Would it be presumptuous to think I might not have need of my aunt’s patronage for very long?
She took both Polly and me to the mantua-maker and the milliner that afternoon. And the next day she escorted me, alone, to the glover as well. By the end of the week I had six new gowns on order with slippers to match, four new hats, and six pairs of gloves. Though I hadn’t chosen trimmings as fancy as Polly might have liked, I was well pleased with the choices I had made.
I had feared seventh day’s visit to the jail, but I wasn’t even allowed into the building. I showed my pass, but then was told the new general’s orders were inviolable: There were to be no more visits to the prisoners. I left that place light in heart and buoyant in spirit. My time as a spy was finished.
I had wondered how my new life would be. It became apparent once the first of my gowns was delivered the following week that it would consist of accompanying my aunt and my cousin on their rounds of calls and on the Penningtons’ circuit of evening entertainments. There were suppers to attend and concerts to hear, and very soon I came close to regretting the life I had left behind. I may have despaired of ever fitting in had it not been for the presence of Jeremiah at nearly all of the events.
By the first seventh day in June, Aunt’s remaining purchases on my behalf had been delivered. She now considered me possessed of a presentable wardrobe, and I had come to learn those customs that society required of me. I felt, finally, able to manage what my life had become. But then Aunt announced over breakfast that it was time to begin thinking about a wardrobe for autumn.
A knock sounded at the door.
We could hear Davy’s quick steps as he crossed the front hall.
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