Marie tightened the laces on her stays a bit too much, and it made her gasp.
“Oh, I am sorry, ma’am. I guess my mind is elsewhere.” Her maid sniffed.
“Is everything all right?” Faith turned and looked at her maid’s teary eyes.
A shake of the girl’s head was all Faith needed.
“Please. Tell me. Let me help.”
Marie wiped at her face. “My parents were kicked out of their home yesterday to make room for redcoats—not even officers, mind you, just some stinky soldiers.” She sniffed again. “I am sorry. That was unkind.” At tear dropped from her chin. “Oh! I am so sorry, ma’am. I do not wish to get anything on your gown.”
“Don’t you worry one little second over my dress.” Faith grabbed Marie’s hands. “Do they have anywhere to go?”
“No, ma’am.” Marie lifted her chin. “But I am working to find a place. I am sure the Lord will provide.”
“You must tell them that I insist that they come here. I have plenty of room.”
Marie’s eyes widened. “But, ma’am.”
“There are no buts. They will stay here. As soon as you are done helping me this morning, go and fetch them.” She narrowed her eyes. “But you must be very careful, and you must also ask your parents to keep the secrets of all the Patriot duties of the house. We cannot afford to put any of us at risk.”
“Aye, ma’am. I am sure they will aid in any way they can, and they will work for their keep.”
“Don’t you worry about that.” Faith turned back around so Marie could finish with her dressing. “Now let’s hurry so that you can go quickly. Sometimes the soldiers aren’t too kind to the people they have booted out of their homes.”
With a firm hand on the knocker, Anthony determined that he would not be denied entrance again. Today would be the day. Mrs. Jackson could play hard to get all she wanted with other men—but it was unacceptable with him. She was to be his bride, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The door unlocked, and Clayton’s face peered through the inch-wide opening. “Mr. Jameson. I am sure you understand—”
“I will not be denied, Clayton.” He pushed his full weight against the door and gained a foot. “Mrs. Jackson will see me immediately.”
The much smaller man had more strength in his wiry frame than Anthony had given him credit for. He had to push a lot just to keep the door open.
“Mr. Jameson, while I am sure we are all impressed with your fervor, Mrs. Jackson offered you no invitation to this home. Now if you will kindly remove yourself before I have to do it for you.”
“I will not be spoken to by a servant in such a manner!” No one got away with that. No one. Anthony wasn’t even denied an audience with the King when he wanted it.
“Mr. Jameson!” Clayton yelled and pushed back.
“I warned you!” Anthony leaned with all his might when all of a sudden the door gave way and he found himself with too much momentum. In less than the blink of an eye, he was floundering and falling toward the floor. He hit and bounced a few times before landing face-first on the marble floor.
Clayton sighed beside him.
Heat warmed his cheeks. “How dare you! Why you—”
“Mr. Jameson, that is quite enough.” A gown of golden yellow with matching shoes—that were quite exquisite—were inches from his face. He recognized the voice. The object of his affection must have given him entrance. And look at the spectacle he’d made! Gathering every ounce of pride he could muster, he rolled to his side and then his back to attempt to gain his feet. But his breeches were laced a tad bit too tight. He shot a look to the butler for help.
The unhelpful man crossed his arms.
“Clayton, please assist Mr. Jameson to his feet.”
“As you wish, ma’am.” The butler leaned down with an arm. He whispered into Anthony’s ear. “Not—one—wrong—move.” The threat was accentuated by a steely and forceful grip of Clayton’s hand.
Once he was back on his feet, Anthony lifted his chin and cleared his throat. He tugged his waistcoat down and straightened his coat. The cravat at his throat felt increasingly tight. Dignity. He must show Mrs. Jackson his supreme dignity. Remembering he had been a dear friend of the King, invited to every special occasion and event at the palace, helped him to put on the same appeasing expression he’d used to woo subjects to the King’s wishes. He adjusted his neck’s adornment and turned to face her with a bow.
“Mr. Jameson. I believe I informed you last time you were here that there would be no more invitations from this house. I hate to be rude, but you simply are not welcome here.” Hands on her hips, Mrs. Jackson actually looked perturbed. Her eyes held a fire he hadn’t seen before, and it was quite lovely.
“Mrs. Jackson, if you would but grant me a moment of your time, I believe I can get you to see my undying admiration for you and that you and I were made for each other by the gracious Lord above and—”
“Mis–ter Jam–e–son!” Her voice raised several tones as her face flushed a deep crimson. It brought out the beauty of her emerald eyes. “You will leave. Now. And not return.”
“But you will marry me, Mrs. Jackson. You will. I will not take no for an answer. There is no need to play these games.”
Clayton pushed his shoulder and turned him toward the door.
“Unhand me, my good man! I am not finished!”
“Oh, yes you are.” Clayton’s words were deep and harsh.
As the butler pushed at his back, Anthony leaned onto the man to stay within his beloved’s presence as long as possible. She needed him. He needed her money. And her beauty. He deserved it. He did.
“Mr. Jameson, let me assure you one last time. I am not playing games. Nor do I wish to speak to you again. Good. Day.” There was a note of finality in her voice that simply didn’t make sense. What was she up to? Surely this was all a ruse to convince her lady friends and staff that she was the purest and saintliest of women.
The wiry butler succeeded in shoving him out the door. It slammed behind him followed by a resounding click of the lock.
Anthony turned and studied the door. Something was amiss. He couldn’t put his finger on it. But he would.
He would have Mrs. Jackson.
Or no one else would.
The long daylight hours made it difficult for Faith and Matthew to make their drop-offs, so they’d had to start meeting later. Last time, they had decided to meet twenty minutes later each time until mid-July. But that would mean many after-midnight meetings. Matthew thought that maybe they should revise their plans, but more and more redcoats were patrolling as the days wore on.
Faith snuck in the side door of the meetinghouse. “Hi,” she whispered, and they slipped over to the corner they liked the best. “Sorry it took me a bit longer to get here tonight. The patrols are out in full force, and I had to travel in several circles before I could get here.
The moonlight streamed through the window and gave her an angelic glow. “I am glad you are safe. But it does make me worry.” The tension behind his eyes wouldn’t ease. Probably from all the looking out and lack of sleep. “They have basic control of Boston, but not as much here on the outskirts. I am concerned they have brought more troops in through the harbor and will be pushing at the barricade lines soon.”
She nodded. “I had the very same thoughts.” Another packet tied with a ribbon was in her hand. “Here. There is some very important news in these. I do not understand it all, but please, promise me you will be careful?”
“I promise.” He took the missives. The worry etched lines on her face. “Let’s talk about something happier.”
She looked puzzled for a moment, and then her face broke into a smile. “Oh, I have quite the story to tell you today.”
He didn’t miss the rolling of her eyes. It must be a good story. “Please, go on.”
As she recounted her adventure with Anthony Jameson, he laughed along with her. “He really fell onto the floor?”
&nbs
p; “With a great resounding splat on the marble.” She shook her head. “His girth made him bounce quite a bit, and I must admit that replaying the image in my mind is quite humorous.”
As they laughed together, the words replayed in his mind. “And you said that he insisted you would marry him?” His smile faded as a knot of tension formed in his stomach.
The smile fell from her face as well. “Yes. I must admit the man has been very persistent, and I have had to plant my foot on the ground to convince him otherwise. Although I think he was too preoccupied with my shoes.” Her laugh was a bit too forced.
Probably for his benefit. “But it doesn’t sound like you convinced him. He seems dead set on the idea that he will not take no for an answer and that you will be his bride.” The more he thought about it, the more he didn’t like it. At all. This man was a threat to Faith, and jealousy raged through his system. “We need to do something about this.” He stood up, flexing his hands at his side. He’d been pent up too long as a battle raged around him. If he could just punch this Jameson fellow, he’d probably feel better.
“I have not given him one ounce of encouragement.” Her voice raised in pitch. “Not one. And neither has Clayton. So you just need to calm down.”
Matthew held his hands up. “Whoa. Hold on, Faith. I was not accusing you of anything untoward. I am just feeling warning bells go off about this man’s insidious behavior. You should be concerned.”
“I am not your horse, so please do not tell me to ‘whoa’ as if I were under your command.” She made a face at him and crossed her arms over her chest. “There is nothing to be concerned about. I told him to leave and that I did not wish to see him again. Clayton physically removed the man from my home.”
“I still do not like it. It is unsafe for you in Boston anymore. Especially with that man on the loose. He is unpredictable and a threat.” He paced in front of her. His long legs ate up the floor.
“Quit your stomping, Matthew. Someone will hear you.” Faith scolded him. Yes, scolded him.
What was going on between them? His temper flared. “Like someone will hear your raised voice? I do believe that is what we refer to as the pot calling the kettle black.” Raising his eyebrows at her, he sat on the bench beside her.
She huffed.
Which made him snicker. She was entirely too adorable when she was worked up.
“You stop that laughing this instant, Matthew Weber or I will—”
The side door whooshed open and Matthew grabbed Faith and pulled her to the floor in an instant. Thankfully, his reflexes were lightning fast and her voluminous skirt muffled their landing. He put a finger to his lips. Faith’s eyes were wide, but she remained silent.
Footsteps sounded for about ten paces. “ ‘Twas coming from in here, I tell ya.”
“What did ya hear?”
“Noises. Possibly voices.”
“But it is empty. There ain’t nothing there, Jones.”
“Don’tcha want to check it out?”
“I am checking it out. Look around ya. There is no one here.”
Footsteps again.
The door closed.
Faith released her breath
Matthew put his finger over her lips this time. He then inched his way around the corner on his hands and knees. From the open aisle, he couldn’t see any boots. Which was a good thing. He crawled back to her and whispered, “I think they are gone.” Whoever they were, they weren’t the brightest of recruits. Of lower rank. Which gave him a small sense of relief.
She sat up from her sprawled position on the floor. Her skirt billowed around her. “Let’s wait a moment just to be safe.”
He nodded again, and they sat on the floor in silence.
As the minutes passed, he remembered how her lips felt against his touch. He suddenly wished he’d shushed her with his own lips rather than with his hand. A slow, small smile started to work its way onto his face—he couldn’t help it.
Faith eyed him and whispered, “What is so amusing, Matthew?”
He looked at her and tilted his head. “Now wouldn’t you like to know?”
She gave him a scolding look again. “I am sorry for my outburst earlier.”
“I am sorry too.”
“Good. You are forgiven.” She got to her knees and peeked over the top of the bench. She must have been satisfied with what she saw, because she stood to her feet and brushed off her skirt.
“I am still quite concerned about this Mr. Jameson.”
“That is fine. But do not forget you have your own job to do. Let me handle mine.”
He looked heavenward. Lord, she is spirited. But You know, I’m pretty sure I love her. Give me patience and wisdom. Please. I beg You.
“What pray tell are you doing?” Hands on her hips again, she was quite the vision.
His only option was honesty. “Praying for patience.”
She adjusted her lace gloves with a completely expressionless face. “Good luck with that, Matthew. My mother did it a lot. I wish you could have known her.” Walking to the door, she threw over her shoulder, “She had lots of practice on me, she always said. And one more thing…her name was Patience. See you in two days.” With a wink, she went out the other door.
Thursday, June 15, 1775
Philadelphia
The day had been exceedingly long for George. As he walked into his home away from home, the butler took his hat and handed him a letter.
George recognized the seal immediately.
Faith.
“It came from Mount Vernon, sir.”
George nodded and headed into the parlor, opening the letter as he went. As he scanned Faith’s missive, he jumped back to the top of the page. Almost two months ago, she’d penned this letter. A lot had happened in two months. A lot more was about to happen.
Moving directly to the desk, he pulled out paper and the inkwell. Even in his exhaustion, he knew that if he didn’t write her back tonight, he might not get to it for too long a time.
He leaned back in the chair and stretched out his long legs. Being tall had its advantages, but it also had many disadvantages. Especially when a lot of sitting was involved. And there’d been a lot of that during the Congress.
Taking the time to read her letter thoroughly, George smiled at the pages. Faith could almost read his mind sometimes, even from many miles away. Their bond was like that of dearly loved siblings and George wouldn’t want it any other way. He adored her.
After he read the letter through twice, the words for his response came to mind so fast, he couldn’t put the quill to the paper quick enough.
June 15, 1775
Dear Little Faith,
It had been his greeting to her for so long, he couldn’t imagine beginning a letter to her without it.
I apologize for such a long delay in writing to you, but your letter went to Mount Vernon, and I left early May to come to the Congress. It was sent on to me here, but supplies take precedence over letters, sadly.
As you may know, things have moved forward with great speed. And with that knowledge, I must insist that you leave your home. I do not believe it will be safe for you much longer. Take care of who you can, but please leave.
To address one of your other points, I believe it would be a wonderful idea to visit your family. The region is fairly stable. Reestablish those familial connections, and I feel it will bring you great joy. I know it will bring joy to them. I wrote on your behalf to a few of your relatives there when you were much younger, but it was just to let them know of your well-being. They would love to hear how you are faring, I am sure.
Family is a wonderful thing, Faith. Savor it.
To address another of your topics, I must answer: yes. I believe we are beyond the years of seeking a compromise via words and letters. War is upon us and will be for some time, I am most certain.
Which reminds me, today I was voted in unanimously as the commander-in-chief of the army. It will be a humbling and rigorous job, but I take it
on for my fellow man. I would greatly appreciate your prayers during this time.
Your last topic is not at all surprising. I fancy myself a pretty good matchmaker. It worked the first time, did it not? While I approve of this mutual friend, it is too dangerous of a time right now. Do not put yourself at risk. He has taken on a task that is far beyond what you and I understand. No one can know his true allegiance, and so you must stay away. Do not put yourself in harm’s way or in any jeopardy of any kind. Did you read that? More than once?
Good.
Now please, let me know when you are safely out of your home. My prayers go with you, and I know yours go with me.
Martha sends her love as well. I miss you both.
George
He’d given her the facts.
Leaning back in the chair again, he contemplated all that he hadn’t said.
Would she understand that for him to accept the position of commander-in-chief, he was guilty of high treason against England? In fact, everyone that had gathered for the Congress would be guilty of that charge.
If he should fail? He’d be dragged behind a horse and hung by the neck—but not until dead, just enough to weaken him. After that, they’d slice him open and burn his entrails while he was still alive. Then they’d quarter him. Not a fun way to die.
So this decision was no easy one. The cause before them had to be determined to be worth their very lives because that would be what they would give up should they fail.
Going up against the world’s most formidable forces didn’t seem like the smartest or most logical thing to do. But passion and purpose drove the Patriot cause. People with heart. Who longed for freedom and to be out from under the rule of Britain.
People were tired of being taxed to death so that England could repay her debts. And there was very little respect for a king that sat on a throne across the ocean and dictated rules to them.
The Patriot Bride Page 14