The Courier of Caswell Hall (American tapestries)

by Dobson, Melanie

  Hannah shrugged. “Probably fetch Father.”

  “But Father would have him shot.”

  “After what he has done, he deserves to be shot.”

  “Hannah!”

  “’Tis the truth.” Hannah pushed her floral slippers out from under her dress. “Did Seth pay you a visit?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why do you ask?”

  Lydia brushed more powder under her eyes. “Right and wrong can be muddied during a war.”

  “You are talking like a rebel.”

  “I am doing nothing of the sort!”

  “Well, you had better not let Father hear you talk about a muddied right and wrong when he is convinced there is nothing muddy about this war.”

  The door to her bedchamber swung open again, and Prudence called to them. “A carriage is coming.”

  Hannah clapped her hands. “Is the major inside?”

  “I do not know, miss.”

  She twirled. “Let us have no more talk of rebels or a war.”

  They might not talk of it, but Lydia couldn’t stop thinking about how to help Nathan escape before Father or their British guest took a shot at him.

  After Hannah slipped by, Prudence stopped Lydia. “Lady Caswell helped us clean Master Grayson’s room.”

  Lydia groaned.

  “When Major Reed leaves, she would like to have a word with you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Her head held high, Lydia slowly moved down the hall to the staircase. Hannah had already disappeared ahead of her, running down the steps. Her sister had little appreciation for the finer arts of the gentler sex. A lady was never supposed to rush—or at least, she should never look as if she was rushing. Mother kept hoping that experience would tame Hannah and turn her into a lady.

  Lydia had her doubts.

  Inside the family’s drawing room, eight wing-back chairs and two couches were arranged in small clusters. The walls were papered with mint-and-white flowers, and a tall window framed the front lawn of their house. An elegant fireplace served as the focal point of the room, adorned with blue-and-white tiles, a limestone mantel, and ornate flowers carved into the overmantel. Plaster columns rose to the ceiling on each side.

  Her parents were already seated in the drawing room, and Mother directed Lydia to sit beside her. As Father argued with Hannah about her conduct while Major Reed was here, Mother whispered to her, “There are several items missing from Grayson’s room—his shoes and favorite waistcoat and the scarf I knitted for him before he left.”

  Lydia suppressed her groan. It had never occurred to her that Mother might have knitted the blue-and-gray scarf.

  “Can you retrieve them as you did the bowl?” Mother asked.

  “I am afraid I cannot.”

  Mother wove her slender fingers together before looking back at her, and Lydia could see the fear in her eyes. “I fear I will lose you too, Lydia.”

  Lydia put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. How could she assure her of anything?

  Hannah sauntered toward them, announcing as she walked, “I am going to look outside.”

  Mother stiffened. “You may not.”

  “What is the point of having a window—?”

  “Hush,” Mother insisted.

  “I will not hush.”

  Father faced her. “Must I find a muzzle for you?”

  When Joshua walked into the room, Hannah swirled toward him.

  “Is he—” she started, but Lydia reached out and took her sister’s hand, squeezing it to silence her.

  She stopped Hannah just in time. Several steps behind their manservant was a clean-shaven man wearing a powdered wig and a scarlet coat adorned with white lace and shiny pewter buttons. He was shorter than she thought an officer should be, standing only as tall as Father’s chin, but he held a tall hat in his hands. A black belt crossed over his chest in the shape of an X, and his smile was stiff, as if he hadn’t been in the practice of smiling lately.

  Father greeted him before Joshua formally introduced him, and then Father introduced him to the ladies. Major Reed gave the slightest bow. “It is a pleasure to see each of you again.”

  “I believe you were but fifteen or sixteen when we saw you last,” Father said.

  The major nodded. “I remember your visit well. My father said I must visit you if I came to Virginia.”

  Mother stood and reached for both his hands, welcoming him. “Lord Reed has been a good friend to my husband.”

  The major bowed again.

  Mother released his hands and pointed him toward the leather chair next to Lydia. “You must tell us all the news of London.”

  “I am afraid, my dear lady, that my news is quite old. It has been six months past since I left our beloved country.”

  “Please, tell us what you remember,” Mother implored.

  A housemaid set a platter with the silver tea set on the round table between them. As Major Reed began regaling them with news from Great Britain, Mother soaked it up like a sponge that had been sunning on the shore. Then she nodded toward Lydia to serve the tea. Lydia didn’t know any of the families of which he spoke, but she enjoyed hearing his stories.

  As the major talked, she carefully poured tea into five cups and handed out each one. Then she offered Major Reed milk, sugar, and a biscuit. He took all three before enjoying a long sip of the tea. Then he set his cup back on his saucer.

  “It has been much too long since I had the pleasure of a good cup of tea.”

  Father reached for a biscuit. “We serve tea only to our most distinguished guests. If word got out that we have English tea—”

  “I shall keep your secret,” Major Reed said and then picked up his cup, slowly draining it before setting it back on the saucer again. “If I might have another cup . . .”

  “Most certainly,” Mother replied as she refilled his cup. Even if the Patriots didn’t have political convictions against drinking English tea, it was almost impossible to obtain. Mother refused to say where she found hers, though Lydia guessed at her supplier. She kept her mother’s secrets just as she hoped Mother would harbor hers.

  Lydia sat back against the firm seat, her teacup in hand.

  “Have you news from Richmond?” Father asked.

  “Aye,” the major said before he took another sip. “General Arnold and our men have taken the capital under British control.”

  Lydia took a deep breath, trying to make her voice sound cheery. Naive. “I have not heard of this General Arnold.”

  “I do not suppose you would, with your devotion to the Crown.” Major Reed straightened the belt around his chest, and she wondered if he felt as uncomfortable in his uniform as he looked. “Benedict Arnold was a commander with the Continental Army. During his time with the rebels, he was able to garner important intelligence for the British.”

  Lydia’s lower lip dropped. Father might have heard of the man, but she hadn’t heard of him until Nathan spoke his name. “How did he relay the information to the British army?”

  “By hiding it in fancy letters, all written in code.”

  “Code?”

  Major Reed nodded, seemingly impressed with himself for bearing this knowledge. “And some of the messages were written in invisible ink. They had to use a special wash to decipher them.”

  “Fascinating,” Lydia said. “How does one obtain invisible ink?”

  “Invisible ink?” Hannah coughed. “Dear me, sister, you sound like you want to become a spy.”

  “I want no such thing!”

  “I am sure you do not.” Mother’s words were followed by a laugh that didn’t sound the least bit amused.

  Father set down his cup. “I can assure you that our daughters have no interest in spying—or in politics.”

  Lydia started to retort, but Father silenced her with his eyes. What was he protecting her from? Major Reed was an old family friend.

  The major laughed. “At the moment, I have no interest in politics e
ither.”

  Hannah’s smile was forced. “May we please move on to a more pleasant topic?”

  “Certainly,” Lydia replied, even though she wanted to hear more about the ink.

  Major Reed’s smug smile reminded her of the picture Father kept of King George. “I enjoy conversing about almost any subject.”

  Hannah took one of the biscuits and nibbled on it. “Was your sea crossing bearable?”

  “It was tolerable except for the fierce storms we encountered halfway across the Atlantic.”

  Hannah clapped her hands together. “How exciting.”

  “My men and I prefer the land to sea.”

  How ironic that he would be sleeping in her brother’s room. Grayson had always preferred the sea.

  “How many do you command?” Mother asked.

  “One hundred and twenty soldiers.”

  Hannah’s eyes grew wide as she sipped her tea. “That is remarkable.”

  He leaned in as if he were confiding in them. “Most days I am more nursemaid than commander.”

  “Will you be nursing your troops in Richmond for long?” Lydia asked.

  Slowly he turned his head, his gaze settling briefly on each one of them before he turned to the next person. Once he had examined each face, he lowered his voice. “This is the strictest confidence.”

  “Of course,” Father said, and the three women nodded their heads.

  “We will only be in Richmond for a few weeks.” He paused. “When our reinforcements arrive, we will be taking Williamsburg as well.”

  Tears welled in Father’s eyes, and he turned away from them, wiping his cheeks with his handkerchief. A victory in Williamsburg might, in part, avenge the death of his father.

  “Will they destroy the plantations?” Father asked.

  “Not of those who remain loyal.”

  “I have had to remain quiet, to spare the rest of my family,” Father said. “But you know where my loyalties rest.”

  “Our army will keep you safe.”

  Mother set her dainty cup on the saucer. “We’ve heard stories of the British stealing animals and crops for food.”

  The major’s pride seemed to quell. “They are not supposed to steal, but some of our men disobey their orders.”

  Mother poured him another cup of tea. “We will rely on you, Major Reed, to protect our affairs.”

  Major Reed nodded slowly, brushing his hands over his breeches. “Most assuredly.”

  Father leaned forward. “You may stay with us however long you would like.”

  Major Reed studied the contents of the drawing room as if he were noting the details of a fine painting. “Some of my officers are in need of shelter.”

  Mother glanced over at Father, and Lydia knew precisely what she was thinking. They couldn’t refuse the man, though. There might be trouble if they didn’t offer their hospitality.

  “With a bit of notice,” Mother said, “we will do our best to accommodate your officers.”

  “Splendid! I need accommodations for at least six of them.” There was no request in his tone.

  Clearly he was used to commanding.

  “You would be welcomed as a guest in our home, and we could house your men in our other buildings, so that . . .” Father’s voice trailed off as if he were searching for a reason the men couldn’t stay inside Caswell Hall.

  Mother finished his sentence. “So that we might prepare the house for your meetings and recreation.”

  “Of course,” Major Reed said.

  Lydia’s heart began to race. “But what about our Negroes?”

  “They could all stay on the top floor. Temporarily.” Father turned back toward the major. “We have a dozen beds in our servants’ quarters and can offer you fresh linens and food. You will find it much more accommodating than our attic.”

  “That would be more than acceptable.”

  Mother smiled with relief. “When should we expect your men?”

  “Actually—” Major Reed began, but he was interrupted by Joshua opening the doors again.

  He cleared his throat. “Master Caswell.”

  “Yes, Joshua?”

  “We have some additional—” He hesitated. “We have more visitors on the front lawn.”

  Major Reed stood. “Perhaps my men have already arrived.”

  After the major departed, silence permeated the room as the Caswell family collectively tried to contemplate the turn of events. Then Hannah hopped out of her chair and raced toward the window.

  She clapped her hands. “Come look at this.”

  Lydia’s legs shook as she stood. It would be hard enough to try to hide Nathan from Major Reed, but to have a half dozen of his men snooping around their grounds as well . . .

  One of them would surely discover him.

  Nathan swigged water from Elisha’s canteen and brushed his mouth with his sleeve. He handed the canteen back to the man who had shared so much with him. “I thank you.”

  Elisha screwed on the lid and then handed Nathan a small package wrapped in brown paper and knotted with twine.

  “What is it?” Nathan asked.

  “Some fruit leather and nuts and a corn cake for your journey.” Elisha brushed his hands over his legs. “If you hike east about a half mile along the bank, you’ll come to a stream that snakes back onto the Hammonds’ land. About twenty paces north from the mouth, you’ll find a canoe hidden in the trees.”

  Nathan pulled the package closer to him as he repeated his thanks.

  The window was covered with a blanket, and Elisha opened the door to retrieve something else outside. It was a cane, carved and polished.

  Nathan gripped the head of the cane. With his foot bandaged tight and the cane, he might actually have a chance of stealing away tonight. “Did you make this?”

  Elisha nodded. “I used to carve toys for Master Grayson when he was a boy.”

  “I am sure he admired you.”

  “Perhaps he did . . . until he was thirteen.” Elisha seemed to contemplate his words. “Then Master Caswell made him whip me.”

  The thought of anyone beating this man—a friend who had helped save him—made Nathan’s gut clench. “Why would he do that?”

  Elisha shrugged. “It was long ago.”

  “If only—” He couldn’t remedy what had happened then, but perhaps there was something he could do now. He lifted the cane. “I wish I could repay you for your kindness.”

  Elisha lowered his voice when he spoke again. “I’ve caught wind of a rumor.”

  “Rumors can be dangerous.”

  “But this one—” He glanced over at the door and then back at Nathan. “I’m told the British will free any Negro who arrives in their camp.”

  “’Tis not a rumor.”

  Elisha’s eyes grew wider.

  “They will free you, but they will require you to fight alongside them.”

  “I am willing to fight for my freedom, as the Americans are.”

  Nathan brushed lint off his trousers. It was a strange world. The Americans purported freedom for some men while the British talked only of freedom for the Negro slaves. “If the British take you along with the plantation, though, they’ll sell you as property.”

  “Aye.” Elisha nodded and sighed heavily as he sat on the stool. “It is what I feared.”

  Nathan had considered many arguments and approaches for freeing the colonists from the tyranny of the Crown, but he hadn’t thought much about the freedom of slaves from their masters. His uncle owned more than a hundred slaves, but unlike many slaveholders, Uncle George treated his Negroes well. In fact, he recently vowed to never again buy or sell another man or woman.

  Looking at this man beside him, the man who’d cared for him along with Miss Caswell and her maid, Nathan understood his uncle’s decision. He couldn’t imagine buying or selling someone like Elisha, a man as dignified as any he’d known. His uncle might vow never to buy or sell another slave, but Nathan vowed to himself right there never to own
one.

  He leaned back against the wall. “What would you do if you were free, Elisha?”

  “After I fought?”

  Nathan nodded. “After the war.”

  “I’d free my wife and son.”

  Nathan shook his head. It was indeed a cruel world. “Where is your family?”

  Elisha put his hands on his thick legs and stood. “They are due east of here, at the Hammond plantation. Every Sunday night, I sneak up to see them. Miss Sarah knows about my visits, but Lord Caswell would whip me if he found out I left his property.”

  “Maybe you could take your wife and son to the British camp. Then you’d all be free.”

  He shook his head. “Alden is crippled. We would surely be caught if we tried to escape with him.”

  “Someday, perhaps, you will be reunited.”

  “Someday I will take them to a place where all men and women are free.”

  Nathan couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be torn away from those he loved. He understood why Elisha would be willing to risk his very life to rescue them, and he admired him for it. “Those are good aspirations, my friend.”

  “Aspirations worth dying for.” Elisha plucked his coat off a peg. “What will you do after the war?”

  “I do not remember much of what I did before the war.”

  Elisha buttoned his coat. “Surely you had a life. A family.”

  “Most of my family lives north.”

  “What was your occupation before the war?”

  “I managed my uncle’s business affairs,” Nathan said. Much had changed since those days of sitting safely at his secretary, pouring over accounts.

  “The war seems to change everyone.”

  “Indeed.” It would be difficult for him to return to that occupation now. At the time the work had seemed exciting, but now it would be drudgery.

  “Lydia said you were on one of the British ships.” Elisha spoke slowly, as if he were counting each word.

  “I was.”

  “Could you—” He cleared his throat, his strong hands fidgeting with the lid of his canteen. “Could you direct me to their army?”

  Nathan shook his head. “Last I knew, the British were in Richmond, but I do not know their exact position.”