The Patriot Bride

by Kimberley Woodhouse

  Steps. Quick and light. They came toward her.

  She held her breath again.

  “Faith?” Matthew’s voice was hushed and strained.

  Relief flooded her brain, and she let out a long sigh. Finally, she could breathe normally. She crawled out from under the bench one more time. “I am over here.”

  “Thank God.” His steps came toward her until she saw his black shoes. “Are you all right?”

  “I do not know. I think so.”

  He reached down with his hands and lifted her up off the ground.

  Wiping off her skirt, she gave him a smile. “Although I was most certain I would die of fright.”

  “Because of the soldier?”

  “No, because of the mouse that climbed over me.” She sighed. “I am going to have to scour this dress when I get home. I can still feel its feet.” Her body shook with a shiver. “Ew.”

  Matthew laughed. “So that is why I heard the soldier scream. I was afraid you had clobbered him.”

  “Well, I would have. Had I not been stuck under the bench having a stare down with a very fierce mouse.”

  “I am sure.” Mirth filled his eyes. He put a hand to his chest. “But I am much relieved that you are all right. When I saw that soldier enter, I thought for sure you would be caught.”

  “You have so little confidence in me, Mr. Weber?” It was nice to tease him after the events of the evening. She needed her heart to regain a normal rhythm.

  “I have the utmost confidence in you, milady.” He bowed dramatically. Then his face turned serious. “But it is too dangerous for us to linger.” He reached into his waistcoat. “This is for you.”

  Sad that the moment was over, Faith knew that this was how things would be. They were at war, and lives were at stake. With a nod, she took the missive and pulled one of her own along with a packet of other messages out of her pocket underneath her skirt.

  “I will see you in two days.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. It was all too brief, but she still felt his warmth when he pulled away a few inches. “I will think of you every moment.”

  “And I you.” Faith soaked in the features of his face. Tried to memorize every line.

  “Faith?”

  “Yes?”

  He moved an inch closer. “I think…well, that is—”

  A noise by the door made them both jolt and duck.

  Matthew looked, waited, and then shook his head and turned back to her. “My apologies. What I was trying to say is that…I love you.”

  Her heart soared. “Oh, Matthew. I love you too.”

  He kissed her one more time and then rushed for the door. “I will check and then you leave first, agreed?”

  After he exited, Faith reveled in the words. He loved her. Thank You, Lord!

  Thump!

  The muffled sound came from beside her. And it was definitely too big to be a mouse.

  He thought she’d never leave.

  Anthony took a deep breath and released it. He’d have to hurry if he were to catch up with whomever that fellow was she’d met with. He’d seen enough to know that the man needed to be eliminated so there would be no more obstacles in his way. Faith would be his soon.

  He’d paid his driver to find two men to help him follow today. Hopefully, one of them followed the tall man out. If not, Anthony would find him. He knew what he looked like now.

  After exiting the meetinghouse, he found his carriage. His driver opened the door and leaned in to whisper. “One of the men is following that fellow. Do you want to follow him or Mrs. Jackson?”

  “Follow him. I will deal with Mrs. Jackson in due time.”

  The driver closed the door, and soon the carriage was in motion.

  A plan began to form in his mind. He could play both sides. Either way, Faith would have to see his power and realize he wasn’t playing games. He was a winner. He always won. This would be no exception.

  The rocking of the carriage soon lulled him into leaning back onto the seat. No. He couldn’t sleep. He needed to remain alert. Tonight, he would finish this business and get on with his life.

  What seemed like hours passed. Finally, the carriage slowed. It shifted as his driver climbed down. Soon the door opened. “Sir, the man has gone into that large house over there. We almost lost him at one point, he made several circles, but the man I hired stayed with him on horseback and we doubled back with the carriage.”

  “Good thinking.” Anthony climbed down and snuck his way up to the house. One of the windows was open—probably because of the oppressive heat. But who would be up at this hour of the night? He crept to the edge of the window and knelt underneath.

  “You sent for me?” One voice spoke.

  “Yes, I did. Thank you for coming so quickly.” The other voice answered.

  “My apologies it took so long. I was in Boston delivering your message.” Ah. So that was the man who’d met with Faith.

  “Quite all right, I appreciate your duty to the Crown.” The man was a Loyalist? What was Faith doing fraternizing with Loyalists? He thought she was a Patriot. Or had he assumed wrong? This changed everything. As much as he disliked King George right now, the Brits did have the upper hand when it came to war.

  “I will do whatever I can to help what I believe in.”

  Anthony didn’t like the guy. Whoever he was.

  Their voices moved away and became muffled. Drat. He needed to listen. Anthony lifted his head just a bit so he could peer into the window. Instant recognition hit him. The man talking was none other than the Governor of New Jersey. William Franklin.

  That confirmed it. They were Loyalists. He didn’t need anything more than that.

  It was time to confront Faith.

  Sunday, June 25, 1775

  Boston

  The incessant banging on the door about drove her mad. Faith had sent Clayton on an errand and really didn’t want to answer the door without him there. But the person was persistent. Maybe it was someone who needed help. If so, she couldn’t leave them outside.

  Laying aside her letters and the coding, she covered it all with a blanket and went to the door. She stopped for a moment and went back to ring the bell in the parlor.

  Marie and Sylvia both appeared in a matter of seconds.

  “Ladies, Clayton is not here, so I just wanted to have you present as I answer the door. I’m not sure who is banging, but they don’t want to give up. There may be someone we need to help, but I wanted you to be ready, just in case it is someone with foul intentions.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sylvia blocked the hallway.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Marie went to the fireplace and grabbed the poker. “Just in case.”

  Faith nodded and tried to hide her smile. Her maid was smart.

  The banging continued. Wasn’t the person getting tired? Wouldn’t their hand hurt?

  She took a deep breath and unlocked the door. She opened it a few inches.

  “Finally. That is the worst—” Anthony Jameson bellowed.

  “Good afternoon.” Faith raised her eyebrows. “The worst what?”

  “Never mind.” He narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger in her face. “Mrs. Jackson, you and I must speak immediately.”

  She closed the door to less than a three-inch gap and put her foot behind it. “No, we do not. I think I was very clear after our last meeting.”

  He leaned close to her. “And I think after your meeting last night, you will want to hear what I have to say.” Rancid breath washed over her.

  She felt the color drain from her face. Last night? Had he followed her?

  Marie and Sylvia were right behind her. She could feel their presence. What could she do? Other than allowing the foul man entrance, she couldn’t think of any other choice. She’d have to find out what he knew.

  Putting a mask of indifference in place, she turned to her staff. “Mr. Jameson and I will be meeting briefly in the parlor.” She opened the door to give him entrance.

  Jame
son threw his gloves and hat at Marie. “I will require some tea and refreshment. I am famished.” He waltzed past them all like he owned the place.

  Faith took a deep breath and whispered to the girls, “Please get some tea and sandwiches as quickly as possible, Sylvia. Marie, I need you to stay by the door. If I call for you, come in. With the poker handy.”

  Sylvia nodded and ran to the kitchen. Marie narrowed her eyes and held the poker. “I will be right here if you need me.”

  “Thank you.” Faith collected herself and went into the parlor, closing the door behind her. “Now, how can I help you, Mr. Jameson?”

  “I saw you last night, Faith.”

  She cringed at his use of her Christian name. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

  “In Hingham. I followed you.”

  “I think you are mistaken. I was asleep in bed by eight thirty last eve. I had a dreadful headache.”

  “Play the part all you would like, Faith, but I know the truth. I know you went and met a Loyalist. A Loyalist! I have been doing some investigating today. Now what would your friend George Washington say about that? Especially since he is the new commander of the Colonists’ army? Hmmm?” He smirked. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  Thankfully, she’d been working on how to mask her expressions. Something Matthew’s sister had passed on from Benjamin Franklin. “I do not have anything to say. You must have followed someone else, because I was here.”

  “That is untrue, and you know it!” His face mottled red.

  “I know nothing of the sort, Mr. Jameson.” She kept her voice calm. “Perhaps you had too much to drink?”

  “I say! You will not speak to me in such a manner!” He stomped toward her.

  At that moment, Marie entered with the poker in her hand and quite visible. Sylvia held a tray with tea and sandwiches.

  Faith nodded to the offering. “Would you like something to eat? Perhaps that will cool your foul temper.”

  “How dare you speak to me in such a way! I am not a child.”

  “As you wish.” Faith turned to Sylvia. “Please take the tray to the kitchen. Marie, please stay.” She kept her voice calm and smooth.

  Anthony stomped toward her again. “I know what you are up to, and it is going to stop. You will marry me! Or I will report your behavior to the authorities.” His spit spewed forward.

  “There is nothing to report, Mr. Jameson. I am afraid you are gravely mistaken. I am but a lowly widow.” She turned around and took a few steps toward Marie and raised an eyebrow. What could they do? She turned back around. “And if you will remember, I told you quite emphatically at our last meeting, that I will not be marrying you.”

  “Oh, yes, you will.”

  “No, I will not.” How could she get rid of this man? Panic began to creep up her throat, but she couldn’t allow it to win. She couldn’t. Where was Clayton? “Besides, I am leaving Boston.”

  “Good, it is quite unsafe here anyway. When you return, maybe you will have some sense, and we can resume plans for the wedding.”

  The man must have been hit in the head with a bag full of bricks. There was no other reason for him to be this crazy. Why, the man was obsessed! “There will be no wedding. I am not returning.” She wasn’t sure where the words came from, but as soon as they were out, she felt they would be true.

  He narrowed his eyes and moved toward her. “Where are you going? I will go with you.”

  “You will not. And I will never tell you.” Her calm voice obviously had done nothing to dissuade him. She felt her temper rising again. “You are the most bull-headed man I have ever met. You do not listen. You do not care what anyone thinks or feels except for yourself. There is no way I would ever marry you.” It was her turn to stomp. And she did so without remorse. All the way to the door. “It is time for you to leave.”

  “No one tells me what to do!” He bellowed and lifted his chin. “We are not done.”

  “We are most certainly done! Get out of my house!” As unladylike as it was, she found herself feeling empowered by her screaming match with the irritating man.

  At that moment, Clayton appeared and took the poker from Marie. He jabbed it in Jameson’s chest. “I believe the lady requested you leave.”

  Anthony narrowed his eyes again and slowly made his way to the door, the poker in his chest the whole way.

  Clayton shook his head. “You should have listened the first time, Mr. Jameson.”

  “We are not done here.” Anthony looked at her. “Wait until I give your Patriot friends the news of you sneaking around and meeting Loyalists. You will have no choice but to do as I say.” He sneered and turned on his heel.

  Clayton slammed the door behind the odious man and locked it. “Ma’am. I am so sorry I wasn’t here for this.”

  Faith shook her head. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who sent you on an errand.”

  “Are you really leaving Boston, ma’am?” Sylvia stepped forward.

  “No. Yes.” Faith had her hands on her hips as she paced the room. “Not yet. But I believe it will be time very soon.”

  “What are you going to do?” Marie came and put a hand on her shoulder.

  “I do not know.” Who knows what Anthony would say to George or others—if he indeed went, which she wouldn’t put past him—to get his way. The man was…well . . . insane was the only word she could think of. “But I know that we cannot put the cause in jeopardy. I fear I have made a grave mistake.”

  Faith paced inside the smelly barn. It didn’t look like anyone had been in here to clean up for several days. It smelled much worse than normal too. She’d taken to having Marie pin her nosegay much closer to her face on days they met in the barn.

  But the smell was the least of her problems.

  Anthony had disappeared the day after his verbal assault in her home. Clayton had checked and it seemed very likely that yes, Mr. Jameson was off to tattle on her to someone.

  She was unsure of who he would go to first, but the horrible man could cause serious damage to the Patriots. If he actually knew anything. But she didn’t know how to even find out because she had to deny everything. Had he actually followed her?

  On top of all of that, the man seemed bound and determined to see them married. What was wrong with his mind? Had no one ever told him no?

  A horse’s whinny brought her attention back to the reason for why she was here. Too much time had passed. Again.

  Matthew hadn’t shown up on Monday, and now he didn’t appear to be coming today. Did he get word that she’d been followed? Was their mission compromised now? Or had something happened to him? She had coded three messages of extreme importance for him. What should she do now?

  Removing her lace gloves, Faith lifted her right hand to her mouth and chewed on her thumbnail. A nasty habit from childhood, she hadn’t done it in years. George had seen to it that she shook the dreaded fidget, but tonight, her nerves were too frayed.

  She took a deep breath. Logic and reasoning needed to take over. This had happened before, and Matthew had been fine. He had to be all right this time too. She would just keep coming to meet him and soon he would return and explain. If there wasn’t already some kind of message awaiting her at home.

  Hopefully.

  But just in case he was simply—well, extremely—late, she’d wait another ten minutes or so. There wasn’t anyone around. It would be fine.

  It would.

  But Matthew did not appear. The carriage ride home did nothing to calm her nerves. As much as she wanted to believe that Matthew was detained in some way, deep down, something didn’t feel right. What could it be?

  Weariness bore down on her whole body, and she felt her shoulders droop as she entered her home. A bath sounded lovely, but it was too late, and she was too tired.

  She came to an abrupt halt. Three red-coated men stood in the parlor.

  Her heart sank. “ ‘Tis awfully late to be asking for beds for your soldiers, is it not
, sir?” She gave a small smile.

  “You, Mrs. Jackson, are under arrest.”

  “Excuse me?” She narrowed her gaze at the man who’d spoken. “And you are?”

  “Who I am is of no importance to you. We know that you are conspiring against the British and so you are under house arrest until the charges can be substantiated.” The man lifted his chin. The two on either side of him looked a bit young, but their faces were stone.

  “Exactly what have I done to conspire against the British?”

  “We have testimony from a valuable source that you have been working with the Patriots. That is all I have to tell you.” The man raised his eyebrows and gave her a scathing look.

  “Who is this valuable source?” She was exhausted, but she didn’t want to back down. Not now. Not ever. It didn’t matter what they knew, she needed to distract them as long as possible so that Clayton could get the staff out of the house. He’d seen and heard it all, she was sure. The man saw everything in her house.

  “He said that he knew you would ask that question. And he actually wants you to know. Mr. Jameson was very helpful. Informing us of your meeting location and names of other women he’d seen here…helping.” He sneered at her. “Now if you cooperate, we might allow the other women to avoid the humiliation—”

  “You would believe Anthony Jameson as a source?” She laughed out loud and put a hand to her mouth. Hoping the dramatics would convince the soldiers. “You must be really desperate for information.” She gave the man a look that she hoped showed her confidence and lack of worry about the threat.

  A flash of doubt flickered across the soldier’s face, then disappeared. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Mrs. Jackson. It’s what the man knows and his connections with the King.” He stepped closer to her, his hat under his arm. “You will remain under house arrest until further notice.”

  He walked to the door, and the two soldiers beside him followed. Making a quarter turn, he looked over his shoulder at her. “Get used to the redcoats, ma’am. We are everywhere. It’s best you learn that now and realize there is no chance for a rebellion to gain any ground here. King George and the British will rise victorious.”