Elizabeth's Hope (A More Perfect Union Series Book 0.5)

by Betty Bolte

  “Have you considered what the British invasion of our city means for the residents?” Jedediah clucked to his horse and jogged up to ride beside Frank as they worked their way around a meadow dotted with wildflowers.

  “Captain Sullivan believes the Britons will require the people to comply with the commandant’s restrictions and likely have the men swear allegiance and fealty to King George III.”

  “Will the captain sign such an oath?” Jedediah considered the burly, brusque man, and recalled his depth of belief in the American cause. He even surreptitiously engaged in privateering with his own ships to the benefit of the new American government. “Is he capable of such deception?”

  Frank glanced at him and a slow, secretive smile slipped onto his lips. “He’s a survivor. He’ll do what he must to ensure that he and his family, his property, and livelihood continue.”

  “As we must.” Jedediah perused the rolling countryside before them. “I trust he will ensure the safety of the girls, though I truly wish we did not have to leave them within the city.”

  Frank turned to peer at him, halting his horse. “You have feelings for Miss Elizabeth, do you not?”

  Jedediah reined in his horse and studied his brother’s jocular countenance. Elizabeth’s face appeared in his memory, as though she stood in front of him instead. Her beautiful blue eyes with silver flecks. Her long blond tresses caught up in an elaborate style with curls dancing about her jaw. Her alabaster complexion with the slight flush of pleasure when she greeted him. Lovely and intelligent, well read and capable of holding a lively, interesting conversation. He enjoyed her company and longed to keep his promise to return to her. He relived their shared kiss and the touch of her hands in his. He could envision her making a good mate and mother. Feelings, though? That was an entirely different question.

  “She is a lovely woman who will make someone a fine life companion.” He rested his hands on the pommel of his saddle as he regarded the mirthful grin and laughing eyes staring at him. “What are you smirking about?”

  “One of these days the truth will hit you in the heart.” Frank shook his head and reined his horse to the right, to continue on their way. “For now, we must pick up the pace or we’ll never catch up.”

  Jedediah urged his gelding into a trot to match his brother’s pace, all the while pondering what he meant by the truth. He let the matter drop as they briskly splashed across a creek and then entered the verge of a deep woods. The shadows mingled about them as they hurried on along the pine needle covered trail between the massive trunks of the ancient forest, with luck gaining ground on the ever restless troops as the patriots searched out pockets of loyalists in the back-country. Slowly the American General Gates was trying to reclaim command of the region, tightening a noose around the British commander’s neck.

  They trotted up a slight rise, sunlight shooting rays illuminating swirling clouds of insects, and then started down a sharper slope toward a river he could hear in the distance. Suddenly, two men in loyalist dress jumped out from behind trees flanking the trail, their rifles aimed at the brothers. Frank yanked on the reins, causing his horse to rear. Jedediah halted beside him, his horse prancing nervously, scattering pine needles into the underbrush.

  “Who goes there?” The bearded man glared at Jedediah, shaggy brows drawn together beneath a drooping Monmouth cap.

  Frank tossed a look at Jedediah, a slight tilt of his head indicating for him to follow his lead. “We’re just a couple of soldiers on our way to rejoin our unit.”

  “Yeah? And what unit might that be?” The other man aimed his weapon at Frank, his scowl revealing his distrust.

  Frank shot another look at Jedediah and then gathered his reins as he kept his nervous horse moving beneath him. Jedediah followed Frank’s movements, shortening his reins in preparation for whatever plan to avoid capture his brother had settled upon. When Frank lifted his legs from the sides of his horse ready to kick him on, Jedediah did the same. Frank yelled and sent his horse into the man closest to him, knocking him to the ground, as Jedediah aimed for the second man. The bearded man shouted a curse as he scrabbled sideways behind the tree. He still possessed his gun, so Jedediah kicked his horse into a gallop to chase after Frank between the trees. A shot rang out, and a bullet whizzed past him and thunked into a pine, sending bits of bark flying into the air. Jedediah crouched lower and rode for his life. Another shot, then another, but no more bullets reached near him as he increased the distance between the loyalist soldiers and himself. He glanced back as his horse burst into a clearing. They weren’t being followed at least.

  Frank cantered around the edge of the open field until he found a copse of fully leafed bushes and trees they could hide in to catch their breath and give their heaving horses a break.

  “Brazen plan of escape.” Jedediah rested his hands on his thighs, the reins long and loose to let his horse graze. “Which almost got us shot.”

  “It worked.” Frank grinned at him, as casual and calm as if he were sitting at home under a shade tree instead of hiding out from their attackers. “That is the important result.”

  Jedediah shook his head slowly, keeping a watchful eye out for any activity. “That and we made up some time with that gallop. Let’s keep going.”

  “Good idea.” Frank urged his horse into a trot and led the way out into the open.

  Jedediah was content to let his brother lead, even if his actions could at times be considered reckless. Frank held their safety as his highest priority, so Jedediah trusted him implicitly. They rode along, chatting about this and that, or lapsing into a companionable silence, covering as much distance as they could.

  Finally, after what seemed like hours, Frank halted his horse and motioned with one hand. “Look, there’s an army camp ahead.”

  Reining in beside him, Jedediah followed the direction of his pointing finger. He could see columns of smoke rising into the bright blue sky from a group of white tents scattered across a meadow. A cluster of horses were picketed to one side under the cool shade of several magnolias and oaks.

  “Is it Gates?” Jedediah peered at the men and women milling about the tents and tending the fires. “Can you tell from this distance?”

  Frank nodded with a smile stretching on his face. “Yes, from the flag flying near that largest of tents. It’s General Gates’s headquarters I’m thinking.”

  Jedediah looked more closely at the encampment and finally spotted the flag. Red and white stripes, with a blue union and white stars. Relief flooded his chest.

  “Let’s go.” He nudged his horse into a trot then a canter.

  Frank matched his pace as they approached the end of their perilous journey. Not that the peril ended by arriving at the army camp. No, in truth, it was just beginning.

  Chapter 3

  Charles Town, South Carolina – September 1780

  Who could she trust? That was the question plaguing Elizabeth as she and Emily strolled along King Street to the market, accompanied by Solomon and Jasmine to help and protect the ladies. The occupation of the town after the leaders had capitulated as expected stretched on, now into its fourth month, and the effects were definitely being felt by everyone. She could only hope to find food they could afford to purchase. Limited quantities of everything led to exorbitant prices. The last time they’d made the futile trip the cost of a pumpkin exceeded the amount of coin money they had on hand. Paper money proved worthless to the British and loyalist merchants. Without more specie, how would they survive?

  “Mayhap the fish will suffice to tide us over until Father can bring in more victuals on his ships.” She acknowledged a passing woman, Mrs. Darlene Walters, dressed in black, mourning the occupation as much as she and Emily did even though they were forced to act loyal to the crown. That was one way to know who was truly a patriot. Those who declared loyalty yet remained a patriot at heart were more difficult to detect. Like her father. “Morning, Mrs. Walters.”

  “Good morning to you, Elizabeth
. Emily.” Mrs. Walters tilted her head, her brown hair peeking out from beneath her black bonnet. “Will I see you at the sewing circle this afternoon?”

  “Yes, ma’am, we will be there.” Elizabeth smiled at her, as they paused to chat. “Our aunt is happy to host such a worth while gathering.”

  The patriotic ladies in town met once or twice a week to spin, weave, and sew fabric into shirts and pants for the soldiers fighting for the American cause. Flax and hemp grew in the gardens and then the plants were harvested and stored until needed to provide the raw materials. The finished items were smuggled out of town using various means, including townspeople leaving the confines under the protection of a pass given to loyalists. Which they could only acquire thanks to the efforts of those like her father who walked a perilous path indeed.

  “Emily, will you be able to bring your loom? I know how cumbersome it must be to move it.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ll be sure it’s there and ready to use.” Emily dipped her head in acknowledgment. “It won’t be any trouble at all.”

  Not with the two strong slaves, Solomon and Richard, to handle the heavy equipment and Jasmine to carry the spools and skeins needed. Elizabeth regarded Emily for a short while as she conversed with the other woman. Elizabeth ensured the servants had decent apparel and footwear, both so they were comfortable and so they presented an acceptable appearance. Her sister could be oblivious to the needs and wants of their servants upon occasion but not on purpose. Emily tried to understand the necessities of others but then became wrapped up in her thoughts. Thoughts she committed to paper and squirreled away. What did she intend to do with all her writings? The answer to that question also worried Elizabeth as ladies were strongly discouraged from writing let alone publishing their scribblings. To do so was beneath Emily’s station as the daughter of an esteemed merchant and would mar her reputation.

  “Magnificent. I shall see you later.” Mrs. Walters gave a weak smile and then sauntered away.

  “She’s quite supportive of our clandestine and subversive activities.” Emily threw a glance over her shoulder at the departing figure and then glanced at Elizabeth. “I like her.”

  Chuckling, Elizabeth smiled at her sister. “Me, too. Let’s not talk too boldly about those efforts. Not in public.”

  Emily cast a fearful look about the area. “What are we to do, Elizabeth?”

  “Stay the course. Keep unto ourselves and try to behave as if we support the loyalist cause.” She pinned her sister with a look. “We must endure until the war is over.”

  “Do you think our brothers will survive, wherever they are?” Emily returned the serious regard. “Or that they’ll fight alongside Frank and Jedediah?”

  “I do not know. Father received a missive from our brothers this morning, but it did not contain such specifics.”

  “He showed me the letter, but I had hoped his contacts might yield more intelligence than what they’d written.” Emily sighed, a long heart-rending sound. “I miss them so. Have you received any more letters from the Thomson brothers?”

  “Not since Jedediah wrote last month to let me know they were safe after the horrendous defeat at Camden.” She’d only received it through the kindness of one of his compatriots who smuggled it into town. Relief washed through her, but at the same moment concern as to Jedediah and Frank’s ability to remain alive with all the conflicts swelled inside. “He expects a new general to assume command later this year, after that cowardly Gates fled the battlefield in disgrace.”

  “I pray they will all come home to us without injury.” Emily frowned at Elizabeth, worry evident in her blue eyes. “It’s so hard to simply carry on and not be able to do more for our cause.”

  “That is what we need to do for our men, Emily. Carry on and tend the household, so they have a home to return to.” Elizabeth shrugged lightly, a quick lift and fall of her slender shoulders. “We need to focus on the things we can take care of and not fill our heads with worries over things we cannot control.”

  “I find that difficult. I dread attending church with that British-supplied loyalist preacher spouting nonsense.” Emily clutched her soft purse in both hands, mangling the fabric. “I do not believe the terrible views of our men’s actions that he pushes down our throats.”

  “We’re not required to believe what he says, Emily.” She did not enjoy the sermons and prayers any more than her twin. At least their father did not require them to attend every week. “I pity the school children who must listen to the blathering of the loyalist teachers every day.”

  Emily shook her curls as they turned toward the market. “That would be intolerable.”

  They strode into the cluster of makeshift tables holding the various foods and wares offered for sale. Chatter vied with the cries of the gulls and babies, the hawking of vegetables and meats as well as candles and baskets. The aromas of hot roasted peanuts and cool bayberry filled the crisp fall air. A gentleman sauntered along the sandy street leading his water spaniel, a good-size dog with curly caramel colored hair, his pink tongue lolling. A lady browsed the offerings, her pet monkey dressed in a tiny British uniform perched on her shoulder. A typical day in some ways, but with the ominous shadow of the enemy blanketing the discourse and exchanges. Wandering along, she stopped in front of the eager fish monger.

  “How fresh are the oysters?” She indicated the bowl filled with the gray-shelled mollusks.

  “Caught this morning.” He lifted the shallow bowl to angle the contents for best viewing. “How many do you want?”

  She eyed him with one brow lifted. “How much are you asking?”

  He quoted a price that had her lifting both brows. She haggled with him until the eagerness in his eyes dimmed. After a few more offers from either side, they settled on a price for two dozen. As he wrapped her purchase, she sighed. They needed to eat, but where would she find the money to buy new shoes for herself let alone for her sister? Until she could do so, her faithful maid Jasmine must continue to wear the worn out ones she’d been putting up with for months. Elizabeth’s heart hurt at not being able to maintain the standards they had always aimed to achieve. How they dressed and presented themselves bespoke their class without words, a station in life her father had labored to achieve.

  Until the war ended, the soaring costs and scarcity of everything would surely continue to get worse. Right along with the deprivations and deceptions necessary to survive as best they could. She let her gaze drift around the market square, noting the British soldiers standing in clusters, watching the people like hungry birds of prey. Beady eyes following their every move. Waiting for any careless patriots to reveal themselves so they could pounce and exact their vengeance for placing them in such a precarious position.

  “Come, Emily, we should go home now that all our money has been spent on supper.” She focused on the concern in her sister’s eyes. “Then we must finish our daily tasks before we go to Aunt Lucille’s.”

  Emily bobbed her head as she fell into step beside Elizabeth. “Indeed. If I can do nothing else, then at least I can provide comfort to those fighting on our behalf. And against our enemy.”

  “Do you think we should continue with our plans for the yearly Allhallows Eve dinner next month? And our other traditions?” She glanced at Emily and then at the street ahead as they walked home. “The British have their balls and parties which we shall not attend, but is it wise to maintain our usual festivities?”

  “I believe it is important to have something to hold as a candle against the black night of this occupation.” Emily shifted the basket of oysters she carried. “We should make some plans for the event. Including convincing Father to tell a story.”

  “We should request Cousin Amy to regale us with one of her wonderful tales.” She smiled, recalling the many ghastly and spooky stories their cousin had invented in years past. “She’s a born storyteller with a gift of a fine imagination.”

  “I fear her talents may lead her astray, but you’re correct that
she can create fine stories.” Emily stepped to one side to let another couple pass. Resuming her pace, she glanced at Elizabeth. “She’ll need a distraction this year, since Benjamin Hanson also fled the town. At least the Thomson brothers bade us farewell.”

  “Where did Benjamin go? Do you know?” Elizabeth retied her bonnet after a gust of wind lifted it.

  “No one knows. He left without a word.” Gripping the basket with both hands, Emily looked at Elizabeth. “Here I thought he cared for her. So she will need something else to occupy her thoughts.”

  “Then it’s settled. We’ll celebrate Allhallows, then the advent of the winter holidays with Christmas and the conclusion of them with Twelfth Night in January.” Happy occasions to look forward to during the long, dark days of the winter as well as of the occupation.

  Although happy must be relative given the situation. Little food or drink. Stifled expression of thoughts. The news controlled by the enemy so that the patriots were deprived of any morale-boosting information regarding the American cause of independence. But worst of all, their men in danger and regular life curtailed. All she wanted was for the war to end and for all the men to return to their families. Most importantly, for Jedediah to return to her.

  Chapter 4

  Charlotte, North Carolina – December 1780

  The winter encampment lived up to its name. Jedediah wanted nothing more than to be home in Charles Town where it was warmer, and it didn’t snow. Back in the house he had built with his own hands. A sturdy, two-story abode with its many windows and double piazza. The inlaid mahogany floor supporting the immense table he’d crafted. Home. He shivered inside his thin coat as he rode through the town alongside his brother. The arrival of Major General Nathanael Greene had sparked optimism and lifted the morale of the freezing and ill-clad soldiers going about their day, drilling, scavenging for supplies, but mainly waiting for orders.