"Go away, Dan. You're standing in my light."
"I just came to see if you've 'eard the rumor?"
"What rumor?" asked McKillop.
"Charlie Westbourne 'as finally lost 'is virginity."
"Never! Who was the unlucky woman?"
"There were five of 'em, Andy," said Lukins, cackling. "Four to 'old 'im down and one to make a man of 'im."
"Don't believe a word of it!" Wolverton warned. "Dan is lying again."
"No, I ain't. There is a rumor, and it did come from the Lieutenant, but the bit about the five women was wrong—there were only four." He dodged the punch that Wolverton flung at him. "No need to 'it me."
"There's always a need to hit you, Dan. You should be struck hard on the hour every day until you learn to tell the truth."
"This is the truth—I swear it!"
"How is Lieutenant Westbourne involved?" said McKillop.
"Because 'e was the one I over'eard, talking to another officer. They 'ad these worried looks on their faces, so I thought it was important to listen." He moved in closer and adopted a more conspiratorial tone. "The rumor is there ain't no reinforcements comin' from New York."
"But they were supposed to meet us at Albany," said Wolverton.
"General 'Owe is goin' to attack Philadelphia instead."
"That will take him further south—away from us."
"It's only a rumor, mind," said Lukins, "but I got an 'orrible feelin' that it may turn out to be true. I'm scared stiff."
"You're always scared, Dan."
"Well, I'm not," McKillop affirmed, exposing a row of tobacco-stained teeth as he grinned broadly. "We've got nothing to be frightened about. The British army is the finest in the world. We beat the French, we beat the Spanish, and we'll give these bloody Americans a damned good hiding as well."
"We could do it more easily with General Howe's army to support us," said Wolverton, "but that may not be possible. I hope that these wounds of mine heal up soon. It sounds as if I'll be needed."
McKillop sat up. "And me—I can still hold a musket!"
"You can't 'op around a battlefield on one leg, Andy," said Lukins.
"Try stopping me. I joined this army to fight."
"Well, I didn't, and I say it again—this rumor scares the pants off me. I think we should go back to Canada where it's safe."
"See it as a chance to make a name for yourself, Dan," Wolverton urged, hiding his own disquiet. "We're going to find a lot of action ahead of us. Who knows? If you kill an officer, as I did, you might be able to take a watch off him—then you won't have to keep stealing mine."
Lieutenant Isaac Harman was staying overnight in the camp before making the return journey on the following day. Jamie Skoyles invited the man into his tent so that they could talk at leisure. Harman was a New York loyalist who had enlisted in the British army the previous year. Skoyles admired his courage in volunteering to act as a messenger.
"I had no idea that you'd come as far south as Skenesborough," said Harman. "When I set out from New York, we'd not even heard the news that Ticonderoga had fallen."
"Why did it take you so long to get here?"
"Because I didn't hurry, Captain. Three of us were sent at the same time. Two were express riders, finding fresh horses as they went along and trying to outrun any pursuit. Their problem was that they looked exactly what they were."
"Messengers, riding hell for leather."
"Precisely, my friend, whereas I was posing as a man intent on buying land in New England. The disguise worked until I came up against you in the forest."
"I took you for a rebel," Skoyles confessed.
"So did lots of people, fortunately," said Harman. "That's why I haunted the taverns wherever I stayed. I could pick up information from the enemy that way. It was in a tavern in Albany that I heard that General Schuyler was going to send fifteen hundred soldiers to Fort Edward."
"That intelligence helped to spare my blushes, Lieutenant. I was due to press on to Fort Edward for the purposes of reconnaissance. Since you knew so much about the place, you saved me the trouble."
"Glad to be of assistance."
"You even caught Redsnake for me."
"That was unintentional. He tried to ambush me."
"It enabled me to get the horses and the telescope back."
"Did you tell General Burgoyne how the instrument went astray?"
"No," said Skoyles honestly. "He has enough on his mind at the moment. I didn't want to add to his worries."
"Gentleman Johnny doesn't seem to have any worries. When he deciphered that dispatch, he didn't turn a hair. It was almost as if he were glad that General Howe would not be coming."
"I can't say that I'm glad, Lieutenant. It will considerably diminish the impact we can make. Our aim was to isolate the rebels in the north."
"You may still do that, Captain."
"Not unless we win a pitched battle against them."
"It may not come to that," said Harman, sagely. "The rebels are in disarray. The loss of Fort Ticonderoga was a massive blow to them. They were still dazed by it when I got to Albany."
"We may have put the Continental Army to flight," said Skoyles, "but there are still the militias to call upon. They'll boost the numbers at General Schuyler's disposal."
"That's not the impression that I got, Captain."
"Oh?"
"I saw members of the New England militia on my way here. They looked like a rabble. Most of them of them had no uniform to speak of, and there was little sense of organization."
"They'll be organized enough on a battlefield," Skoyles argued. "It's dangerous to have no respect for an enemy. A war is not always won by the army with the smartest uniforms."
The discussion continued until Harman began to tire visibly. After shaking him warmly by the hand, Skoyles told him where he could sleep for the night and sent him off, grateful to have made his acquaintance. Alone in his tent, Skoyles felt a sudden need for company, and the face of Maria Quinn came into his mind. He regretted the way that he had abandoned her so swiftly during her earlier visit, and he wanted to make amends. Skoyles was tense, tired, and jaded. Maria Quinn would be the ideal antidote. He left the tent in order to find her, only to be met by the solid figure of Sergeant Tom Caffrey.
"Just the man I need," said Caffrey.
"Hello, Tom."
"Were you going somewhere?"
"Only to take a walk and get some fresh air," Skoyles lied, not wishing to take his friend into his confidence about Maria Quinn.
"I thought you'd still be out with Redsnake."
"I returned a lot sooner than I expected."
"Miss Rainham will be pleased to hear that."
"Miss Rainham?"
Caffrey handed him the letter. "She left this for you."
"When?" said Skoyles, pleased at the news. "And why?"
"Read it and find out."
Skoyles went into his tent with his Caffrey. Opening the letter, he studied it by the light of the candle. It consisted of only three sentences but he read them several times, searching for a message between the lines. His face was glowing.
Caffrey came over to him. "Well, what does she say?"
"Enough."
Elizabeth Rainham was about to retire early for the night. She would have appreciated company, but Major Featherstone had chosen to play cards instead. Elizabeth hoped that his decision did not foreshadow their marriage. To have a husband who preferred a game of whist to an evening with his wife was not an enticing prospect. On the other hand, she told herself, Featherstone was accepting an invitation from General Burgoyne that he could hardly refuse. It was a mark of favor in which she could take some pleasure. It never occurred to her that the reason why he was included in so many card games was that Major Harry Featherstone was a compulsive gambler.
She was on the point of undressing when she heard voices outside her tent. Nan Wyatt was instantly recognizable, but Elizabeth did not know the other woman's voice. Af
ter a while, Nan asked if she could come in to speak to her mistress, and she was admitted at once. Elizabeth could see that she was perplexed.
"Who was that?" she wondered.
"Polly Bragg, ma'am."
"What on earth is she doing here?"
"She brought a message for you," said Nan softly.
"From whom?"
"Captain Skoyles. He wishes to see you."
"Now?" said Elizabeth, taken aback.
"If at all possible."
"Here? No, it's out of the question. I couldn't possibly allow that, Nan. It would be most improper."
"The captain fully understands that, ma'am. He suggests that you meet somewhere else. If you agree, Mrs. Bragg will take us there."
"Did he say why he wants to see me?"
"He gave no reason, it seems," said Nan, "but I fancy that it may have something to do with that letter you wrote to him."
"I'd almost forgotten that."
"Had you, ma'am?"
There was a twinkle in the maid's eye that signaled her disbelief. Nan Wyatt was discreet. She was also very perceptive and had sensed the strong feelings that Elizabeth harbored for Jamie Skoyles. It was not her place to discourage them. Elizabeth was hesitant. The request had taken her completely by surprise and she was not at all sure how she should respond. Wanting to see him again, she knew that the situation was fraught with difficulties. If she agreed to a meeting, she would be giving herself away; if she declined to go, she risked offending a man for whom she had a growing fondness. Yet if she did see him—and if it came to the knowledge of Harry Featherstone—there would be terrible repercussions.
"What are you going to do, ma'am?" Nan prompted her.
"I don't know."
"Shall I tell Mrs. Bragg that you need more time to think it over?"
"No, no," said Elizabeth quickly. "Don't send her away."
"It's getting dark now. Nobody would see us."
"That's not the point, Nan. What I have to judge is whether or not it's appropriate behavior for me."
"Only you can decide that, ma'am."
"It's rather late. I was about to go to bed."
"Captain Skoyles has only asked for a few minutes of your time," said Nan reasonably. "But I can see that it's not convenient, so I'll tell Mrs. Bragg to convey that message to the captain."
"Wait," said Elizabeth, putting out a hand to stop her. "Perhaps I can spare a few minutes, after all. It's the very least that I owe him."
As he waited for her response, Jamie Skoyles felt very nervous, uncertain whether Elizabeth Rainham would come or, if she did, what he would say to her. He began to worry that he had read more into her letter than was really there. Short, formal, written in a neat hand, it simply expressed her sincere thanks for the way he had rescued her at Bitter Creek. Skoyles hoped that it said something else as well. He had borrowed Tom Caffrey's tent because it was closer to the encampment where Elizabeth was staying and could be construed as neutral ground. Had he invited her to his own tent, he was sure that she would have refused to come.
The sound of female voices told him that his agonizing wait was over. Polly Bragg held back the flap so that Elizabeth Rainham and Nan Wyatt could go into the tent. Skoyles had lit every candle available and they threw a lurid glow onto the canvas.
"Thank you for coming, Miss Rainham," he said.
"I'm not able to stay long."
"Of course."
She glanced around. "This looks and smells like the medical tent."
"Sergeant Caffrey loaned it to me. In fact, that's one of the things that I wished to make clear. You must be aware by now of the sergeant is very close to Mrs. Bragg and that she befriended your maid."
"It was the other way round," said Nan. "I befriended her."
"Perhaps you had better leave us alone, Nan," Elizabeth suggested.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I see. Very well, ma'am."
After glancing from one to the other, Nan backed out of the tent.
"I think I know what you were going to tell me, Captain," said Elizabeth, "but no explanation is needed. I never believed for a moment that you had set Mrs. Bragg to spy on me."
"Major Featherstone thinks differently. He accused me to my face."
"He spoke very unkindly of Mrs. Bragg. I've only just met her for the first time, but I found her extremely pleasant."
"Polly is a wonderful woman. She's nursed dozens of wounded men back to health. Sergeant Caffrey says that her help is invaluable. On the other hand," he admitted, "I can't pretend that her friendship with your maid was entirely innocent."
"That's neither here nor there," she said. "All that concerns me is that you did not deliberately employ her for your own purposes."
"Perhaps not, Miss Rainham, but I was ready to hear everything that she learned about you. It was more than idle curiosity."
"I was interested to hear any gossip about you, Captain."
"Major Featherstone will provide you with plenty of that, surely?"
"I preferred an account that had less prejudice in it."
Elizabeth gave a first smile and he responded to it with a grin. They were standing yards apart in the flickering light. Skoyles had never seen her look so lovely. There was an air of sadness about her that had not been there before, but it only served to enhance her beauty. Adversity had turned her into a mature woman.
"I'm sorry for what happened at Bitter Creek," he said.
"So am I, Captain. I've still not been able to find the courage to write to my parents about it. Mother will be heartbroken. Uncle David was her only brother." She hunched her shoulders. "Somehow, I've been unable even to lift a pen."
"Yet you wrote to me."
"Only because I felt that I'd been neglectful. I didn't thank you nearly enough for what you did at the farm. It's the second time that you've rescued Major Featherstone, and as for me . . ." Her voice faded to a whisper and she gave a wan smile. "Well, we both know what would have happened. Thanks to you, I was spared."
"Nothing gave me more relief than that, Miss Rainham."
He stepped in close to her and fought off the impulse to take her in his arms again. Skoyles could see the confusion in her eyes, a mixture of hope, interest, uneasiness, and cold dread. She bit her lip. It was as if she wanted to make some sort of declaration but was held back by fear of the consequences. No such fear hampered him. When he smiled down at her, it was with a warmth and frankness that revealed his true feelings. On the point of reaching out to him, she withdrew her hand at the last moment. Her discomfort was patent.
"I should not have come here, Captain," she said.
"Why? Are you afraid of me?"
"Not at all. I'm afraid of myself—afraid and a trifle ashamed."
"You've done nothing shameful, Miss Rainham."
"I feel that I might."
"Why did you write that letter to me?"
"To show my gratitude."
"But you were going to express your thanks in person," Skoyles noted. "According to Sergeant Caffrey, you came looking for me in my tent. Why bring a letter if you intended to speak to me?"
There was an uncomfortable pause. He could see her wrestling with her conscience. Acutely aware that she was betrothed to another man, she was nevertheless drawn to Skoyles in a way that she could not control. It was unnerving. Though she retained her outward poise, a battle was raging inside her. Instinct was fighting against precept, temptation against the firm commitment she had already made. Her upbringing had prepared her to cope with almost any situation but the one in which she now found herself. She was a realist. Opportunities to see Skoyles were few and far between. She knew that the chance of a moment alone with him might never come again. Whatever it cost her in terms of embarrassment, Elizabeth had to speak out now.
"I wrote that letter for one simple reason," she said, candidly. "I wanted you to know how I felt about you."
Turning on her heel, she rushed out of the tent. Skoyle
s went after her, but she did not look back. With Nan beside her, she hurried across the grass and was soon lost in the darkness. He stood outside the tent, bemused by her declaration, wondering if he had heard her aright. Skoyles took her letter from his pocket to sniff the scented stationery. It made his spirits soar. Elizabeth Rainham was genuinely interested in him. He could offer her none of the wealth and aristocratic status that came with a marriage to Harry Featherstone, yet she had broken through all the restraints and conventions that bound her in order to reveal her affection for Jamie Skoyles. He was thrilled.
Maria Quinn spent the night alone, after all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Lieutenant General Sir John Burgoyne understood the importance of visibility. Other commanders might have been content to spend the long wait in the relative comfort of Colonel Skene's house, dividing their time between leisurely dinners, endless card games, and nights of abandon with a voluptuous mistress. While he took abundant pleasure in all of these things, Burgoyne did not neglect his duties. He held regular meetings with his senior officers, inspected the troops from time to time, and made sure that he was seen in public by as many of his soldiers as possible. It was one of the reasons he was so popular. There was nothing remote and aloof about Gentleman Johnny. He was a familiar sight who could revive the most jaded spirits.
Burgoyne did not ignore the sweating fatigue parties who worked so hard to build a road through the forest. He rode out occasionally to see what progress they had made and to offer his encouragement. When the men were well into their second week of drudgery, they were visited yet again by their commander, in company, this time, with Captain Jamie Skoyles, who wished that the day were not quite so hot and humid. Burgoyne was pleased by what he saw.
"Excellent, excellent!" he called out to the axmen who were trying to remove yet another huge tree from their path. "Well done, men!"
"Wearing woolen uniforms is like working in a furnace," said Skoyles, dabbing at his brow with a handkerchief. "These men are heroes."
"Their reward is the knowledge that they're opening up a pathway to the enemy. We'll hound the rebels until they run out of hiding places."
"We'll have lost many men in the process, sir."
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