by Jerri Hines
Frowning, Hannah bemoaned the fact. “How am I to wait?”
“We’ll get out the embroidery. You haven’t much progress on your last piece. It will make the time go by faster for all of us. It will be a long night,” Mother Agnes reached into her sewing basket by the couch. Jinnie stepped into the parlor.
“Mr. Corbett tole ma if there was trouble to send Malcolm for him. Malcolm is sittin’ on the porch watchin’.”
Hannah frowned, but she had no choice but to stay. She lit a lamp and made her way into the kitchen. “I’ll help make some tea, Jinnie. Where is Mary?”
“Hidin’ und’r ‘em covers, Miss Hannah. She ain’t the braves’,” Jinnie responded.
“If you have checked on her, it is enough,” Hannah said walking back with Jinnie. Jinnie stopped her.
“Donna worry, Miss Hannah, ‘bout the tea. Ah make ya’ll a pot,” Jinnie smiled. Hannah nodded and sighed. She started pacing.
“Sit down, Hannah. You are making me nervous,” Mother Agnes said, pulling the needle through the material, calmly.
The drums continued, wearing on all their nerves. Hannah went once more to the window. She could make out a crowd and from the noise they didn’t seem happy.
“I can’t abide this waiting,” she exclaimed after a while.
“You aren’t going anywhere without your father’s permission, Hannah,” Mother Agnes replied without looking up.
“Mother!” Hannah uttered, stopping upon looking into Mother Agnes’s stern face. She turned and stomped from the parlor. Resentment took hold of her, once again left out for being a girl.
Stomping into the foyer, a flicker caught her eye, a sliver of light from beneath the door of her father’s study. Easing over to the door, she rested her hand upon the doorknob. Listening closely, she heard a rustling noise.
Without another thought, Hannah whipped open the door to find a dark figure of a man rummaging through her father’s desk. She screamed, frozen to her spot. Wheeling around, the intruder knocked the lamp down and with it the light was extinguished.
Trying desperately to focus her eyes in the new found darkness, she could only make out movement toward the opened window. Then stillness other than the curtain fluttering against the wind. Mother Agnes raced in with a lamp in hand. Hannah was hanging out the window.
“What happened?” Mother Agnes cried.
“Someone has broken into Father’s study!” Hannah cried, crawling out the window.
“Hannah! What do you think you are doing?”
Mother Agnes’ question faded behind Hannah as she rushed into the darkness. Running down the back of their garden, she caught a glimpse of someone darting behind the Miller’s house. Then suddenly, she heard a mob cry in unison Death to Dunmore coming from the Square. She thought a moment of going to ask for help, but the thief would escape. She hesitated a moment more, then ran toward the movement.
She stopped and caught her breath. Her eyes desperately searched the darkness for any signs of the intruder. She could see none. Suddenly without warning, she felt a hand reached around her waist. Hannah shrieked.
Whipping around, her breathing eased upon the sight of a familiar face. “Gabriel, you scared me to death.”
“I scared you? What do you think you are doing?”
“Someone broke into Father’s study. He’s getting away. Come on. He has to be—”
“He is long gone, Hannah. Look at yourself. What were you going to do if you caught up to him? Hannah, do you ever think?” he questioned more as a statement than a question. Hannah stared defiantly back at him. Gabriel grabbed hold of her again. “Look!”
Angrily, she turned to Gabriel to find his eyes fixed on her. She looked down. Suddenly aware she stood defiantly before him dressed in only her night robe and bare feet.
“You aren’t going anywhere. Do you know what could have happened to you?”
“You don’t understand. Someone broke in the house, Gabriel! He’s getting away,” she cried turning back searching the darkness.
“Hannah, trust me. The intruder is long gone. You need to go home. Come, I will take you back,” he said and grasped tight to her hand.
“Gabriel?” she said, determined still to chase the intruder. “Please, we could look together.”
Hannah tugged at his hand to continue her chase. Instead, he shook his head. Not releasing his grip, he pulled her behind him.
Placing her hand on his arm, she pleaded, “Gabriel, wait. Please!”
She stopped. Forgetting the intruder for the moment, her anger returned against Gabriel. She jerked her hand from his. “Why did you utter those words to me the last time I saw you and then I haven’t seen you? Now you come and act like I have done something more wrong?”
“My God, Hannah, you are so innocent. One doesn’t run the street in their night clothes, especially one that looks…,” he paused. “Come on. We shouldn’t be out like this.”
“What brought you here anyway?” she asked. Rejection burned inside of her.
“The drums. I was answering the drums, if you must know. When I rode by I heard the commotion within your home.”
Approaching the back of the house, he opened the gate for her. She passed him quickly not even giving him a look.
“Go on,” he said. “Act mad at me. I’m not the one endangering myself with hardly any clothes on.”
Hannah swung round and pushed him as hard as she could. Her hair flew wildly around her face. “I am no concern of yours. I have listened to your words for the last time, Gabriel Witherspoon. I won’t sit in wait. So keep your words to yourself and leave me alone!”
He whirled her to him, he uttered under his breath, “You don’t know how much I would like too.”
Their conversation cut short as Mother Agnes appeared upon the back porch. “Oh, thank God! Hannah, you could have been hurt,” she cried looking her over. “You go up and change. I have sent for your father. Come on in, Gabriel.”
On Mother Agnes appearance, Gabriel released his hold on Hannah. She stumbled back. Regaining her balance, she ran passed her mother.
“Are you all right?” She heard Mother Agnes call out as she charged for her room, wiping back angry tears falling from her eyes.
Agnes stared back at Gabriel whose face revealed his own irritation. Her emotions on edge with fear for her husband and family surged through her, but at the moment her concern dwelled on the the tension between Hannah and Gabriel. She knew well the reason.
John had made clear his intention to keep Hannah’s inheritance a secret, but Agnes remembered all too well what happened to her family when they lost all through her father’s gambling and drinking. The years of humiliation, the looks of pity, living from relative to relative until her own mother’s sad death.
Not until John had she felt true happiness. He hadn’t cared she was penniless. John placed no value upon wealth.
“It doesn’t measure a person’s worth,” he told her.
Agnes studied Gabriel’s profile as his eyes followed Hannah up the stairs. There were feelings between the two. And she well understood the tension. Gabriel’s family won’t accept Hannah. Gabriel hadn’t the means to support her otherwise. She loved all her stepchildren, but had a special place for Hannah.
A young motherless child when she first met her, Hannah fought the restrictions she had tried to impose, but Hannah had loved her without question. Hannah was so trusting, loyal and saw the world through her eyes, not understanding when people acted differently than she would have.
“Gabriel, would you like to stay for breakfast? The morning sun isn’t long for its appearance,” Mother Agnes said as she led him into the parlor.
Chapter Six
The rush of people pressed against Jonathan while he searched for his father. William had returned to their home when Malcolm, came in search of their aid. Hannah, it had appeared, had disappeared into the night chasing God knows who.
Jonathan stood on top of the horse posting, scanning the
area in hopes of catching a glimpse of his father. Rumblings abounded; mumbling against Lord Dunmore, angry and aggressive. Some faces were unfamiliar, clothed like a backwoodsman, with their white hunting shirts and either round broad rimmed hats or caps with dangling fur tails.
Jonathan saw an opening. He jumped from his perch and squeezed his way through. Someone was addressing the crowd. Standing upon a wagon pulled in for that purpose, Mayor Dixon looked worn, though tried to maintain calm.
“Don’t panic,” Mayor Dixon called. “Haven’t Peyton and Joseph volunteered to address Governor Dunmore? We will have our explanation. Don’t move as of yet.”
The rumblings continued as a man not far from Mayor Dixon climbed up on the wagon wheel. His face red with rage, he shouted, “There is no need for explanation. It is plain why. Death to Dunmore!”
Jonathan watched. A man emerged behind Mayor Dixon. John Corbett placed his hand firmly down upon the other’s shoulder. “Hank, it does no good reacting without thinking. Let Peyton go to Governor Dunmore. We aren’t going to let this pass,” John stated softly but firmly, trying to soother the emotions flowing.
“It is now, John. He doesn’t deserve our patience. String him up is too good for him,” Daniel Evans cried as the others followed suit. Chants rang out, “Death to Dunmore!”
John stepped beside Mayor Dixon, raising his hands. Jonathan’s eyes transfixed upon his father. He stood solemnly over viewing the crowd.
“Don’t think that I wouldn’t be beside you, Daniel, to defend our town, colony or family,” John spoke. Suddenly the crowd quieted, listening to his every word. “Do you not think that this injustice flows hot through my veins? We have to be careful how we tread, for every step now has to be sound for us to reach the freedom we so desire. Make no doubt, they will know of which we stand. They will hear our cries within the wind and see it within our eyes, a fire that will not be put out by a cowardly action.
“If we react impulsively now, don’t you think they would use it against us? Our dream of freedom isn’t going to disappear as our guns have. It will only grow stronger. With each action they take, we will only get stronger. The British will have no choice but to acknowledge us.
“Let them know that we stand together and aren’t afraid of what challenges face us. Aren’t we prepared to pay whatever price we have to for the nation we so desire? It is for our children and our children’s children. And if we die, then they will have a proud heritage behind them in the nation that we will help create. But it will serve no purpose to react violently now. Let us wait until the delegation returns and prepare ourselves for that time.”
Jonathan broke through the crowd. He motioned for his father and whispered in his ear. Within moments, John jumped off the wagon.
* * * *
The morning headline from the Virginia Gazette read - The Sword is drawn and God knows when it will be sheathed. Jonathan studied his father. His eyes strained; he held his head as if it pounded. Undoubtedly, he was worried. His father had been busy all day and now, tonight, sat at his desk with his sons before him.
“I don’t believe we have much choice here. It will be safer for the females to go back to Nathanial’s. The tension is only going to escalate more,” John began. “Thank goodness the device is safe. Not that I would admit to my youngest that her adventurous nature saved it, but now we know they are aware we have it.”
“Doesn’t that warrant a bigger concern if they consider us spies?” William asked. He took a seat across from his father. “Does this blow our cover for what we hoped to obtain?”
“Only if they succeed in obtaining it and then only if they can prove what it is designed for,” John conceded. “I have many questions about the device itself. It seems to be cumbersome for their intentions, but I do believe I can get it to perform its intended purpose.”
“What would that be, Father?” Jonathan asked. “I looked over the sketches and couldn’t make out its function.”
John rolled out the sketches. “It is meant to write undetectable messages. Vital information could flow freely back in forth without the threat of being caught. See how if it enters at this end when pulled through it reveals a message. The trouble with all is setting it for the code, but if I can decipher it, it would be extremely valuable. Essential if the violence escalates, which I have no doubt it will. And we all realize what happens when a spy is caught. Don’t we?”
“We all know, Father, and are more than willing to take the chance, for the stakes are high,” William said in earnest. “Don’t worry about us. We know.”
Jonathan glanced over at his father and brother. Pride surged through him. His father looked back at him. “Times, I’m afraid, are going to become much worse. Dunmore’s explanation won’t hold. Most will find his reason unsatisfactory.”
“Well, Father, he couldn’t come up with anything better than he only wanted to keep the powder out of an intended insurrection of slaves?” Jonathan complained. “Everyone knows he took control of the gunpowder for only one reason. To ensure his power.”
“Henry has already made ready with his militiamen outside of Williamsburg and demanded the return of the powder,” John said. “The time has come. There will be no turning back.”
“Tell us what you want of us,” Jonathan said emphatically.
“You, my son, are ready to take your commission with the Continental Army now that it has formed. Congress has appointed our friend, Colonel Washington Commander of the army. You will have your hands full,” John poured a glass of port for himself and his boys. He handed it over to each. “We have a lot of planning to do. William will help me here. If you can take the women to Nathanial’s tomorrow, Jonathan, settle them there until you ready to leave.”
* * * *
Hannah stared out the front window. She turned and smiled at her father when he entered the drawing room.
“Are you packed?” John Corbett asked his youngest.
“Yes, I believe I am. It’s not that far away,” she began.
He shook his head. “I would prefer you stay there until we feel it's safe. For once, my dear darling daughter, take heed to my words. It isn’t a game, now.”
“Don’t worry Father. I will take care of all,” she assured him. “We’ll be fine.”
“I do worry,” he answered her. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. He hated to see her so sad.
She hugged him tightly.
“I’ll walk you out to the carriage. Jonathan said you were riding out.”
“If that’s fine with you,” she looked into her father’s eyes. “I much prefer not to be idle. I would play upon Mother’s nerves otherwise. Lydia is to stay with her parents I take it?”
“It seems the best option in her condition,” he said. “I believe she is safe there. And William is close by. Come, your mother is ready.”
John walked out with his daughter. Mother Agnes already awaited in the carriage. “Mary, are you sure we have everything. I don’t even think we were unpacked.”
“Yas’m, ma’am,” Mary nodded. “But I sure do wish I could come with ya’. I ain’t been sleepin’ since that man done gone an’ broke in. What am I to do, ma’am? Are ya’ sure ya’ don’t need ma?”
Mother Agnes’ face softened. “I suppose I could use you. I don’t know what I’ll tell Claire. She does so hate it when I bring you…well, you can just stay out of her way.”
Hannah walked over to her horse and mounted., waiting only for her brother. Hannah watched the carriage pull out, smiling in memory of Mother Agnes’ relenting. Mary, herself had taken the news well and hadn’t even gone back in the house, but plopped herself down in the carriage with Mother Agnes. Hannah readied herself to follow. Her brother talked with his father one last time, then shook his father’s hand goodbye. Jonathan made his way over to his mount, only to stop when a group of riders descended on them.
Hannah watched the other riders reined in. Hannah’s attention immediately was drawn to the leader of the group. Handso
me, tall, dark with an aristocratic look, she knew instantly of whom it was: Marcus Durham. He rode up beside Hannah giving her a charming smile, acknowledging her presence.
Behind him a few men rode, all uniform in manner, except for one. Well behind the others and seemingly uncomfortable in the saddle sat a heavyset man with a puffy face reddened as were his eyes. His legs from mid-calf downward were swathed in heavy bandages. Her Uncle!
The man pulled back the reins with both hands shouting orders for the horse to halt. Hannah suppressed a laugh. The reins were too loose with his body swaying back in forth in the saddle. Eventually the horse decided to stop. One of the escorts assisted him down and in the process her uncle’s foot got caught in the stirrup and almost fell on top of the poor soul.
“Richard?” John muttered watching him awkwardly make his way forward.
“John, John,” Richard said extending his hand. “I told you it wouldn’t be long. I am back for the time being.”
John stared hard at the man in front of him. “Richard, I wasn’t expecting you today,” he said coolly, but with effort. He suspiciously inspected the escorts. Hannah caught her father eyeing Jonathan. “And I had thought we saw the last of you for awhile. Agnes has yet to recover from your last visit. I, too, admit my own misgivings.”
“I won’t bother you, but wanted only to let you know I was in town. I still want to discuss the misunderstanding with you. I realize I put my foot in my mouth before,” Richard said ignoring John’s obvious reluctance.
Richard glanced over at Hannah, making her feel uncomfortable. “Hannah, you aren’t leaving are you? Marcus, encourage the girl to stay.”
Hannah’s attention had been upon her uncle, but with the introduction, it shifted back toward his companion adjacent to her. She turned and his eyes transfixed upon hers. He was close enough to extend his hand to hers. He took her hand gently and placed his lips upon her hand.