The Courier of Caswell Hall (American tapestries)

by Dobson, Melanie

  When she opened the door to the washhouse, steam poured over her and she gasped at the blast of heat. Two Negro women looked up at her in surprise with sweat dripping off their faces, as they scrubbed clothes on a board in wooden tubs filled with boiling water. Clothes and linens were hung on lines around them, and they lay in piles near the tubs.

  She’d never felt so out of place in her life. “I—I need some bed linens.”

  The women stared at her.

  Lydia pointed at one of the presses where the folded blankets set. “Shall I take one from there?”

  The younger woman, who was probably around Hannah’s age, ran toward the press. “I will fetch them for you.”

  She retrieved two sets and brought them to Lydia. “Would you like me to carry them?”

  “What is your name?” Lydia asked.

  “Deborah.” She said with a curtsy. “It’s a Christian name.”

  “Hush,” the other woman commanded.

  Deborah bowed her head. “I’m sorry for my impertinence.”

  “You needn’t be,” Lydia said. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “I can carry those, ma’am,” Deborah said.

  Lydia shook her head and smiled. “I will do it.”

  Deborah held the door open for Lydia as she scooted back outside with her arms full. How did these women stay in the washhouse all day in this heat, standing over boiling cauldrons of wash water? It was a wonder they hadn’t fainted away on the ground.

  Lydia looked down at the clean linens in her hands. Every night she slept on sheets like these without even thinking about the women who had washed them. She thought she was being kind to Deborah, volunteering to carry the sheets for her, but it occurred to her suddenly that it probably would have been a much greater kindness to allow Deborah to escape to the coolness of the house.

  Sighing, she turned to go back to the washhouse. This new world of hers was difficult to navigate.

  Someone whispered her name from behind the smokehouse, and she whirled on her feet, dropping the clean linens on the ground. Bending over, she scrambled to pick them up and balled them in her hands.

  “Who is there?” she asked.

  “It is I.”

  Her heart leaped. What was Nathan doing, visiting her in the daylight? If someone found out that she knew him—

  His presence risked both of their lives.

  She looked both ways, but there was no one on the drive. She could keep walking, pretending that she hadn’t heard him. Or she could speak to him quickly so he would leave.

  The sooner he was off Caswell property, the better it would be for both of them.

  She slipped behind the smokehouse and caught her breath when she saw him. After he’d recovered, she had seen him only in the darkness. Now his green eyes glistened in the light, and his face was shaven clean. His sandy-brown hair was tied back with her yellow ribbon, and in his gaze, she saw a strength that unnerved her.

  Had he been this handsome when he lay on Elisha’s bed? If so, she hadn’t noticed. He certainly wore his health well.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “I must speak with you,” he whispered.

  “I go to the gazebo every night.”

  “They have set up a guard around your property after dusk. One of your friends has begun shadowing you to the gazebo.”

  Goose bumps bristled her arms. She’d been sitting out there alone with one of the officers near her. Thank God she hadn’t gone back to the orangery to deliver a message.

  “They are not my friends,” she said.

  He nodded. “Neither are they friends to your father.”

  She thought of the major’s anger when he’d discovered the Patriots had moved their supplies. Even though her father knew nothing of her treason, Major Reed would still punish him if Nathan was discovered on the property.

  She pressed her fingers against his arm, urging him away. “They mustn’t find you here—”

  He glanced over her shoulder and then leaned close to her ear. She shivered in spite of the heat. “Take a stroll into the kitchen gardens after dusk. I shall meet you by the river.”

  The clip-clopping of horses startled her, and she looked behind her.

  “Go,” she hissed, but when she turned back to Nathan, he was already gone.

  Her heart racing, she stepped back onto the drive, the soiled sheets cascading from her arms. The rider stopped his horse beside her, and she scrambled to pick up the sheets. She didn’t recognize the man, but he looked like a British messenger.

  He examined her and the muddy sheets in her hands. “What happened to your linens?”

  She sighed. “You startled me.”

  “I am looking for Major Reed.”

  She nodded toward Caswell Hall. “He should be in the main house.”

  The rider prompted the horse forward, leaving her in his dust.

  With the dirty linens bunched in her arms, she turned back to the washhouse. Her intention had been to help, but now she’d created even more work for these women.

  This time she would ask Deborah to help her bring clean linens back to the house.

  Shadows from the bell tower above the Pennsylvania State House stretched long across Chestnut Street. The bell had rung five years ago when their nation declared independence, and it continued to ring when the Continental Congress met in hopes of securing their proposed freedom.

  Carriages clattered beside Sarah and Grayson, and the aroma of sweet pastries drifted from the door of a bakery as they skirted through the rows of shops, taverns, and narrow brick homes that overlooked Philadelphia’s busy streets.

  Aunt Emeline had sent Louisa to chaperone them this afternoon, but Grayson never checked to see if she remained behind them. If he could pretend the older woman wasn’t following them, Sarah could pretend as well.

  With Grayson at her side, Sarah couldn’t stop smiling. In her great-aunt’s parlor, he had described the night his grandfather was killed in Williamsburg, how the men had threatened to kill Grayson as well. When he told his mother, Lady Caswell not only begged him to flee but helped him to do so. She elicited his promise that he would tell no one he was leaving, for she feared the news might somehow leak to those who wanted him dead. And now there were many more who sought his life.

  Grayson and Seth had already been discussing in secret the ideas that had been brewing then in Philadelphia and Boston. They both knew how critical it was to stifle their passions for the safety of themselves and their families. Grayson said his grandfather felt he must speak up for the king before the colonists lost their control, and he felt compelled to protect his grandfather by standing beside him. But then his grandfather’s speech ignited a tirade of colonists who were tired of the mandates placed on them by supporters of the Crown.

  Sarah was surprised to learn that Grayson had sympathized with the Patriots for so long, but she was even more surprised to discover that Lady Caswell knew of Grayson’s departure. Her admiration for Grayson’s mother swelled at how she helped her son leave in the night and then harbored this secret to protect him. Sarah couldn’t imagine, though, what Lord and Lady Caswell would say if they learned that their only son was assisting the Americans. She admired Grayson as well, for protecting those he loved.

  Cobblestone winded down to the Delaware River, and they ceased to talk of the past and laughed together at the names of Philadelphia’s streets—Cedar, Chestnut, Walnut, and Spruce. It sounded as if they lived in a forest instead of a city.

  Those passing by stared at them. In a city with few men under the age of forty, Grayson and his crew were novelties. And today he had chosen to walk with her.

  As they came upon the river, the stench from the docks swelled in the summer heat.

  “There is my ship,” he said, pointing at the long wooden ship with two masts rising tall from the deck.

  “What is her name?”

  His gaze remained on the boat. Instead of answering her question, he said
, “She has been all over the Caribbean and up and down the Atlantic.”

  She smiled at the pride in his voice. If only she could have gone with him. “How did you secure your own ship?”

  He looked back at her. “When I first left the plantation, I did not know where to go. A man in York asked me if I wanted to sail with him, and I agreed. We overtook two British frigates on that trip and sold the supplies to the Patriots. I worked a year for him and made enough money to purchase my own ship.”

  “I never expected—” she started. “A pirate, Grayson?”

  He bristled. “A privateer. I aid the Patriots by relieving the enemy of their goods, and then I transport the supplies to our soldiers.”

  “You steal the supplies they are bringing to their own men.”

  He tugged on the hem of his jacket. “I am not suited for soldiering.”

  “I wish I were.”

  He laughed and then stopped and looked down at her. “I have missed you, Sarah.”

  She swallowed. “I was not sure whether to miss you or not.”

  “If only we were on the same side—”

  Perhaps soon she would tell him that she wanted freedom for their country as well. Freedom to speak what she believed. Freedom to worship in a way she saw fit. But she stayed quiet. If she spoke now, he might think her aim was only to impress him.

  “I leave for sea again in the morning,” he said.

  The familiar sadness returned to her. “I had hoped you might stay longer.”

  “If you see my family, I beg of you not to tell them what I am doing.”

  “Can I tell them you are safe?”

  “Only my mother—and only if you do not tell her my new name.” He paused. “If my enemies found my family, they might harm them in order to stop me.”

  Sarah understood and admired him for it.

  He pulled her to the side, in an alley. A rat skirted by her feet, and she jumped away from it. Louisa must be near, but Sarah didn’t care. She was alone with the man her heart longed for.

  “Remember when we were but children and I would visit Seth in the evenings?”

  “I do,” she said. “I would slip into the parlor and help myself to the snacks the servants brought you.”

  A nervous smile replaced his confident gaze. “I was not really coming to visit Seth.”

  She tilted her head, studying his face. “Nor was I particularly interested in the snacks.”

  His smile grew. “I cannot leave again without telling you how I feel.” He took both her hands and her fingers trembled in his. “I do not want you to keep slipping in and out of my life. I want you to stay.”

  “I would like to stay,” she whispered above the noise outside. A wagon rolled by the alleyway, clattering on the cobblestones.

  “I did not want harm to come to you either—I still do not—but my biggest regret these past four years was leaving you.”

  Her heart swelled. Perhaps Grayson did love her as she loved him. He hadn’t wanted to leave her.

  He pulled her closer to him and leaned his head down. “I do not want any more regrets, Sarah.”

  “Nor do I.”

  Heat flushed her cheeks as his lips drew close to hers. Then she heard a scuffling noise behind her, and she turned. Louisa appeared in the alley, her hands on her hips. “Miss Emeline told me to keep my eyes on you. How am I supposed to watch you when you keep hiding away like this?”

  Grayson groaned. “I was about to kiss her, Louisa.”

  The older woman swatted him. “Get back on the street.”

  He winked at Sarah, and the two of them obeyed.

  Sarah grinned as she walked beside Grayson, her hand secured in his arm. He would have to leave again, but he would return to her. Perhaps next time he would be able to steal a kiss.

  They hadn’t walked far from the docks when someone shouted, “Porter!”

  They both turned around.

  “What is it, Zadock?” Grayson asked as the younger man approached them. He was dressed in a fancy orange-striped vest with gold buttons and green pantaloons, a bandana knotted around his neck. His black hair blended with the color of his skin.

  Zadock eyed her skeptically before he spoke to his captain. “We must prepare to leave within the hour.”

  Grayson looked back at her before focusing on Zadock again. “But we do not depart until morning.”

  Zadock shook his head. “You must come to the shipyard at once.”

  Grayson turned toward her, and she wished his comrade had the courtesy to look away. Still, he took both her hands again as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, his steady voice calming her. “We will finish our conversation at a later date.”

  “I hope so.”

  Louisa waved her hand. “Come along.”

  “I shall be back by August first.”

  She released his hands. “I shall be waiting.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lydia waited by her window until moments before the sun slipped behind the veil of darkness. Then she moved out into the warm night, using a simple candle instead of a lantern to light her path. Usually she visited the gazebo later at night, but apparently her guests were already acquainted with her evening strolls. If she saw the guard, she would simply say she had chosen to walk earlier tonight.

  But what if the man still shadowed her through the kitchen garden? What if he found Nathan with her?

  If only she could cause some sort of diversion that would be more effective than her change in evening schedule. But she didn’t know what she could do without placing anyone else in danger.

  She would have to trust Nathan again tonight, trust him with her life and the lives of her family, trust that he kept his promises.

  Instead of taking the path left toward the gazebo, she veered right toward the acre planted with neat rows of cabbages, leeks, parsnips, onions, potatoes, and beans. The hollyhocks, sweetbriar, and English roses in the formal garden seemed like paradise to her, but there was beauty in the kitchen garden as well, with the dark-green stalks of radishes, crimson rhubarb, and tassels of corn.

  As she strolled toward the garden, the shadow of a man emerged from behind the well and moved toward her. Nathan. She tried to quell the panic in her chest. They were much too close to the house to speak. One of the British soldiers would surely discover them and put her and Nathan both in jeopardy.

  “Na—” she began, preparing to tell him to move away.

  But the man’s louder voice overtook hers. “It is a pleasure to see you this evening, Lydia.”

  She closed her lips, her fingers trembling. It wasn’t Nathan there to greet her in the gardens. It was Major Reed.

  And she’d almost said Nathan’s name.

  “It is a pleasure to see you as well,” she said, trying to sound as if she meant it.

  He walked toward her, and she saw his white ruffled shirt in the candlelight and a lump of tobacco below his lip. He didn’t look quite as powerful without his red jacket, but she knew his power among his men was great. And his anger was frightening.

  After the major’s confrontation with her family, she had heard the men talking about how they’d burned down the shipyard. But there’d been no more talk of the missing food and ammunition. Should she ask him if they’d found the supplies, or would she appear too eager? And yet if she didn’t ask, he might wonder about her indifference.

  Perhaps she should just run.

  “What are you doing out tonight?” he inquired.

  She smiled as casually as possible, attempting to calm her nerves. “Taking a stroll.”

  “It is not safe for a lady to be out by herself these days.”

  “Perhaps not in the countryside, but Caswell Hall is plenty safe with you and your men here.”

  “I should hope so,” he said. “Any rebel who dared to step on this property wouldn’t leave alive.”

  She shuddered. Nathan would be shot or hanged if he was discovered here. And if they found out who he was visiting, she m
ight be as well.

  She prayed Nathan was very far away at the moment.

  The major pointed toward the walkway. “I shall stroll with you.”

  The memory of his confrontation in her basement rushed back to her, and everything within her wanted to decline. But if she did, Major Reed or one of his men would continue to follow, and they would surely discover Nathan when he approached her. Perhaps if she walked beside the major, not far from the house, Nathan would stay away.

  Major Reed offered her his arm, and reluctantly she took it. When he patted her hand, the candlelight flickered on its pewter stick. She cringed. If he tried to harm her, she would scream. His men, she was certain, weren’t far away this time.

  “Your family’s hospitality has been most appreciated,” he said as they walked past the rows of vegetables.

  She didn’t want to engage the man in casual conversation, but then she realized she must keep him talking to warn Nathan that she had an escort.

  “How do you like Virginia?” she asked, her voice a bit louder than normal.

  “I like it very well,” he replied. “So much so that when the king regains control, I intend to stay here.”

  “Indeed?” If the Americans won their country, there would be no welcome for any of the King’s Men.

  “The king, I believe, will grant me a governorship.” He paused to spit tobacco juice onto the melon plants. “I am going to ask him for Virginia.”

  She couldn’t imagine this man as a replacement for Thomas Jefferson, but if the British won, she was beginning to realize that the colonies would no longer be a home for her.

  “The king must be quite grateful to have you as such a loyal subject,” she replied, determined to keep him talking.

  “Aye, I will be forever loyal.” He stopped walking and turned toward her. “And I will need a good, loyal wife to help me in this endeavor.”

  She held her candle in front of her, the fire a small barrier between her and this man she disdained. He thought she was betrothed to Seth and yet he disregarded it.

  He looked quite serious. “I have spoken with Lord Caswell, and he agrees that you and I would make a formidable partnership to lead this colony under the king.”