P N Elrod - Barrett 2 - Death and the Maiden

by Death

  "Like often attracts like when it comes to servants and masters," he said.

  "Norwood strikes me as being an easy sort of man."

  "Agreed, sir, but you've only seen him under these limited circumstances."

  "Agreed, though time will remedy that, what with Mother insisting he stay with us."

  "And his sister as well."

  "I'd forgotten her. Where's she gotten to?"

  "Lady Caroline is just over there by the hearth."

  "Seems to be by herself, too. Think I'll play host for a bit, then."

  Jericho filled a cup with punch and gave it to me. "For Lady Caroline," he explained.

  "But this drink's usually for the men." "A view not held in high esteem by her ladyship. She has had some already and expressed a great liking for it." "All right. Let's hope she'll like a little more." Weaving through the guests, I made my way toward Lady Caroline Norwood and put on my best smile when she looked up at me. She'd taken a chair close to the fire and had turned it so her back was to most of the room. It effectively cut her off from any but the most determined approach. I was determined, for she was very pretty.

  "Feeling the cold?" I asked. We'd been introduced earlier.

  She nodded. "The roads were very rough and the carriage drafty. I don't think I shall ever be warm again."

  "Some punch?" I got a sweet thank-you from her as she accepted the cup and drank from it. "Even in good weather the road from Philadelphia is not an easy one. It must have been an especially difficult journey now."

  "Indeed it was, Mr. Barrett. I often thought it would never end. Your mother is very kind to invite us to stay here."

  "It's our good fortune, Lady Caroline, and our way of thanking you for seeing to the safe arrival of our cousin."

  "Poor thing. She was at her wit's end trying to get out of the city."

  "How did you meet her?"

  Lady Caroline smiled in a most charming way. "At a tea party very similar to this one. Philadelphia may be overrun with seditionists, but the rest of the population tried to maintain civilized habits for as long as they were allowed. Things were going from bad to worse, and several families resolved that they had to leave or be arrested by the rebels."

  "I've heard of such foolishness. They've no legal authority to do so."

  "Yet arrests have been made. People have been beaten, officials tarred and feathered... that was no city of brotherly love that we escaped from, sir."

  "Certainly not. What prompted you to travel north, though? Surely a southward road would have been more appealing."

  "We had to go with the others-we were with the Allen family and Mr. Galloway-and they were all headed for New York to speak with Lord Howe. They want to persuade him to march to Philadelphia and secure it for the Crown."

  "That would be a fearful blow against the rebels."

  "Mr. Galloway believes so. Nearly everyone in the city is yet a loyal subject, but the rebels have made them too afraid to do anything."

  It had become an old story by now: a small group of knaves holding decent people in thrall with their threats and the frequent fulfillment of those threats.

  "I suspect that this wretched trouble has provided you with a poor opinion of our colonies."

  "Not at all. I think it is very grand over here. This will die down soon enough, I'm sure."

  "How long have you and your brother been in America?" "At least a year and a half now. James had some land holdings that were being adversely affected by the recent conflicts, and he had a mind to come over and sort things out for himself. I had a mind to see what the colonies were like, so I came with him." "That's very brave of you."

  "So everyone tells me. I did not feel very brave at times, especially when we got to New York. Such a sad place it has become."

  "What's it like now?"

  "It's terrible and, as I said, sad. There's wreckage everywhere, I don't see how they'll ever be able to clean it up. Wherever you turn are the ruins of buildings with their remains sticking up from the snow like charred bones. So many people were burned out of their homes, and I don't know where or how they keep themselves in this bitter weather. I was very glad when we left."

  The burning of New York had been a wonderment and a horror to us all, though for months before the British army arrived there'd been rumors that it would happen. The rebels had threatened to set fires to deny the army sanctuary, and they finally made good their threats one windy night last September.

  I'd been out then, testing myself against the strength of the sky. High over the tallest trees, I was doing my best to hover in one spot despite the gustiness of the weather. I chanced to spin toward the west, and it was then that I noticed a lurid glow in the distance so great that it pierced even my fog-clouded sight.

  At first I had no understanding of what I'd glimpsed, nor could I gain any better view of it. Each time I grew solid enough to see clearly, I dropped like a stone and had to vanish again lest I come to a hard landing. The vanishing, in its turn, subjected me to the cruelties of the wind, and I had to fight to hold my place.

  In spite of these frustrations I finally grasped that I was witnessing a fire of truly awful proportions and that it could only be the city of New York that was aflame. Like others afterward, when they learned the news, I was left stunned, not only by the wanton destruction of such an act, but by the depth of the evil that had inspired it. I was also afraid, for might not the rebels, emboldened by this, do the same for other cities? Worried for the security of my family, I rushed home as quickly as I could.

  All was, of course, quiet, but I was so shaken that I had to see Father. I was reminded of those times as a child when I'd waken from a nightmare and rush to his room for comfort. Child no more, but still in need of comfort, it went right to my heart to see the shadow of anguish on his face when I told him the vile news. This was one dark fear that would not go away at a soft word from him.

  "It's so much more peaceful here," said Lady Caroline. "Except for all the soldiers, one would never know that anything was amiss."

  "But things are amiss, more's the pity. In fact, coming here puts you in more peril than if you'd remained in New York. We're not that far from Suffolk County, which is crawling with rebels, and just across the Sound is Connecticut, another of their lairs."

  "You're not trying to frighten me away, are you, Mr. Barrett?"

  "Hardly, but I do want you to be aware that though we are reasonably well protected, we are not entirely safe. No one is, these days."

  "Now you are frightening me."

  "I'm sorry, your ladyship. I mean only to instill caution. I hope that while you stay here you will take care not to wander alone from the house?"

  "But surely the soldiers have abrogated any danger from the rebels."

  "They have for the most part, but on the other hand, though they serve our King, they are yet men first and thus vulnerable to base temptations... if you take my meaning."

  She did, and rather sensibly, though I was surprised at how coolly I'd been able to raise the subject to a woman, and a virtual stranger at that. This wasn't the sort of conversation one expects to have during a tea party, but I was finding that I liked her a lot, and with that liking came the desire to protect her.

  "Thank you for your warning, Mr. Barrett. I shall certainly be careful in my comings and goings."

  "What warning is that?" Lieutenant Nash had come up in time to hear just that much of our talk. He bowed to us both. "If I may be so bold as to intrude upon you?"

  "You are most welcome, Mr. Nash," said Lady Caroline, beaming at him like the sun. "Mr. Barrett was explaining to me that there are more perils here than from the rebels alone."

  "Really? What perils might they be?"

  She went on in a most easy manner and gave Nash the gist of what I'd said.

  Nash offered her a glad smile full of confidence. "That danger may have troubled us once, but no more, your ladyship. I can guarantee your safety, indeed, the safety of any woman on this
part of the Island."

  "That is very good news, then," I said. "Things are much improved, are they not?" There was enough of an edge to my voice to catch Nash's attention. Though he had no solid memory of our interview about the Bradford girl, he still possessed a lingering uneasiness toward me. Here in a comfortable, candle-filled room alive with many friendly faces, he'd forgotten that for the moment. My question served as an excellent reminder. His smile faltered.

  "As improved as they can be, given the circumstances, sir. I do my best."

  "That's only to be expected from an officer in the King's army," said Lady Caroline. If she noticed our byplay, she pretended not to.

  Nash, his eyes tearing away from me and settling upon her, bowed again and thanked her. She gave him another bright smile, her face seeming much more alive than before.

  I suddenly felt and consequently knew that I had become superfluous. Excusing myself, I went back toward the tea table. Elizabeth, however, was speaking with Norwood, and it would be as much as my life was worth if I imposed on that conversation.

  "Never try to compete with a uniform or a title," Beldon advised me.

  I gave a slight start at his sudden appearance at my side, and we shared a small laugh. His accurate appraisal was not lost on me. "You've been watching things."

  "Only a little. Miss Elizabeth seems quite taken with his lordship, and Mr. Nash has apparently gained the favor of her ladyship."

  "He hardly cuts a dashing figure," I said glumly, noting Nash's paunch and the overall stockiness of his body.

  "Any man in a uniform is not only dashing but an instant hero in the eyes of a woman. If it's a comfort to you, I doubt if anything serious will come of it. Lady Caroline will hardly squander herself on an aging, penniless lieutenant. She'll enjoy the moment for its own sake, but that's the most of it."

  "You sound as though you know Lady Caroline very well. Have you met her before?"

  "Sooner or later you'll meet everyone you know a dozen times over, if you live long enough." "I don't understand."

  "It means that most people are the same everywhere. Have you not met someone who instantly reminded you of someone else?" "Yes."

  "And have you then noticed them behaving in a manner similar to that of another acquaintance?"

  "I see where you are leading, Doctor. It is an interesting premise. So Lady Caroline reminds you of another lady you've met before?"

  "She does. Untitled, but a very nice person, though feckless and fickle. I hope Mr. Nash will not be overly disappointed." "He may not get that chance. I wonder what this means?" A Hessian had entered the room, looking quite devilish with his boot-blacked mustaches and face reddened from the cold. He was familiar to me, having been one of the men who'd participated in Jericho's beating months back. I looked across to Jericho and saw that he'd gone quite immobile and his jaw was set and hard. Though he'd recovered completely as Beldon had promised, his spiritual wounds were yet raw.

  The Hessian still wore his cloak and hat and seemed in a hurry. Silence fell upon our gathering as everyone stared at this intruder. He paid no heed to any of us, but strode right across to Lieutenant Nash.

  Nash scowled and, though he kept his voice low that others might not hear, was obviously demanding an explanation from the man, who leaned close to provide it. Nash soon found his feet, his own expression grim. My father stepped toward him.

  "What is amiss, Mr. Nash?"

  "An unpleasant incident has occurred, sir, and I must go investigate."

  "What sort of incident?" asked Norwood, having abandoned his conversation with Elizabeth.

  Had anyone else made such an inquiry, Nash might have been able to ignore him, but he was not without a touch of the toad-eater, himself. "It appears that some rebels have rowed across from Connecticut and made a raid on a house north of here. I must go and see what has happened."

  Father went bone-white. "What house?" he asked, in a faint voice.

  "The Montagu place."

  I caught my breath, my belly dropping to my toes. Father must have been experiencing a similar reaction, but was better at hiding it. Only Elizabeth, Jericho, and I knew what effort he was putting forth to conceal his feelings. Our guests were also shocked by the news and murmured their dismay to one another, for Mrs. Montagu was well liked and respected by all. She had been invited to the tea party, but declined to attend on account of a cough that had been plaguing her for the last week.

  Norwood gave Nash a bland smile. "It sounds most interesting. I should wish very much to accompany you."

  "This is army business, your lordship, and it could be dangerous."

  "Sounds just the thing to do, then. I can't possibly miss this." Norwood did not wait for Nash to offer further objections, but left, presumably to ready himself for his outing.

  "I shall come, too," put in Beldon. He'd an inkling about Father's relationship with Mrs. Montagu, but kept it to himself, for at heart he was a decent fellow. "I just need a moment to get my medicines." He bolted out on Norwood's heels.

  "And I as well," added Father. "I want to know what's going on."

  "As do I," I said, following him. I glanced back once. Nash's mouth was flapping but nothing intelligible spilled out, which was of considerable cost to his dignity. But the ordering of events had been deftly wrested from him, and he had no choice but to accept the help of so many willing volunteers.

  Though it took but a moment to arm ourselves-I took my sword cane-and throw on some protection against the winter night, it was somewhat longer before our horses were saddled. The stable lads were by turns sleepy, alarmed, and excited at this excursion, and it took a sharp word from Father to put their minds to their business. I saw to the saddling of Roily myself. He was restive for want of exercise, shaking his ears and dancing impatiently. I had no choice but to calm him in my special manner. The change from fiery nerve to abrupt docility was noticeable, and Norwood was the one who noticed.

  "You've quite a way with horses," he remarked, quirking an eyebrow.

  I stroked Roily's nose and shrugged it off. Norwood continued to throw looks my way as I worked, but was soon distracted by the readying of his own mount.

  Nash's man had not come alone; there were five others with him, all on foot. Father cursed under his breath.

  "It's taking too long. I'm going ahead, laddie." His face was haggard with new worry. He'd been able to conceal it up to now, but his concern for the well-being of Mrs. Montagu had clawed its way past his self-control.

  "Not alone, sir," I said, and we kicked our horses up at the same time.

  Nash shouted as we dashed ahead, and the Hessians scattered before us. Norwood called something, and I heard him and Beldon gradually catching us up as we pounded down the lane to the main road.

  "We can get there faster over the fields," I called to Father.

  "Lead on, then!" He knew I'd be able to see clearly enough to do it.

  I urged Roily onto the road for a time, then cut away to the north, finding a narrow path that marked the informal boundary between our estate and the Montagu property. Sometimes we were at full gallop, but more often than not were reduced to a canter or even a trot depending how bad the footing was. Had I been alone, I might have left Roily's back and soared ahead, for I could have covered the distance more swiftly, but with Beldon and Norwood along I was forced to limit myself to something less precipitant.

  We came in sight of the house soon enough, approaching it from the side. There were no lights showing, not a single sign or sound came to us. Father cursed again and again, fearing the worst. He started to press ahead, but I pleaded with him to wait a moment more.

  "Let me go in first and see what awaits. It'll be safer for all."

  Torn between fear for Mrs. Montagu and the sense of ray request, he hesitated in agony for a few seconds, then finally nodded. I slipped from Roily and gave Father the reins. "I'll be right back," I promised, hefting my sword cane. "Go with God, laddie," he choked out. "I'm coming, too," said Norw
ood. Father told him to hold his place.

  Norwood was insulted. "I beg your pardon, sir, but I only wish to help."

  "You don't know the land, Lord James. My son does." This terse statement caused his lordship to subside for now, for Father had all but snarled it. Perhaps it had gotten through to him that this was no adventurous lark, but something far more serious. I had no inclination to waste more time, and walked swiftly and softly over the snow toward the house.

  Tracks were all over the yard, but some days had passed since the last fall, and the normal work of the household would account for them. Horses here, boot-shod feet there, I even picked up the faint trails left by small animals, their shallow shadows pressed upon the patches of white. If any of the other markings were caused by rebel raiders, I could not rightly tell. I would find out soon enough.