by Lora Thomas
“As do I,” Anna replied.
“I foresee an issue with my list of chores.”
“Which would be?”
“If that Jezebel can read or if the major insists on reviewing yer list, how will ye relay information?”
“Damn, I had not thought of that. And remember your brogue, Sarah.” Anna pressed her lips together in frustration.
“Hang me accent!” Sarah quietly protests. Anna gave her a stern look “I ken—I know. Since you say I am responsible for your wigs, hide a message in the ringlets or the front of the high roll.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. I will pen the note after everyone has retired for the night and place them in the wig that I keep a wig sitting on my dresser. I will ask you to change it out with a particular one. The old wig will have the message.”
The duo’s planning was cut short for Peggy returned momentarily with Albert in tow. She was informed that Peggy’s only responsibility would be assisting her dressing, bathing and nothing more. She was to follow Anna everywhere she went. Everywhere. The other tasks—which were all fabricated—would belong to Sarah.
Anna glanced in Peggy’s direction and held in the desire to slap the smug expression off her face. Her expression must have given away her feelings about the situation.
“You had better become adjusted to this new arrangement, Anna. The consequences should you disobey me are grave. My time is needed for our king.”
“I will do as my king commands,” Anna reluctantly said.
“And what of your husband?”
Anna could feel Albert’s eyes burning a hole into her flesh. “I do as he commands as well.”
“Good.”
“But I do have a question, Husband.”
A cautious expression came to Albert. “What?”
“Your spy does not show me the respect that should come with being your wife. I fee—”
“She will show you the respect you deserve—which is little in my eyes.”
“But I am carrying your child,” she said, swallowing the bile in her throat from the thought if it were true. “I do not need any undue stress. Her disrespect—”
“You will learn to deal with it. She is to be with you constantly—even when you sleep. Now be gone. I have a meeting with my officers and no desire to discuss your childish issues.”
Anna watched Albert leave and a feeling of hopelessness entered her. For the first time in her life, she felt completely helpless. Even when she was with her father, there was always hope. But now, she had not only her guards as a constant shadow but now her husband’s lover. How would she ever sneak out to see Cameron again? How would she be able to leave notes for Sarah? She looked at Sarah with tear-filled eyes as the realization that her help with the cause was now over and Cameron would be forever out of her reach.
Chapter Fourteen
Cameron pressed his back to the tree. Of all the luck! An entire regiment of damn Redcoats had blocked his path into South Carolina. Several of the men broke ranks and chased after him. He had evaded capture only to be spotted by a small group of scouts.
Now that same group of scouts was right on his heels. This situation wouldn’t have been so dire if they hadn’t fired upon him. And luck was on their side, for the bullet tore into his left shoulder. The gunfire spooked his horse causing it to buck and throw him off. He landed on the injured arm and nearly lost consciousness. When the stars left his vision, his steed was nowhere to be found. So he ran and took refuge in a small cavern. When his pursuers were no longer a threat he went on the search of his steed. He eventually found his gelding, peacefully nibbling grass over an hour later. He mounted the animal and after a day and a half of hard riding, Cameron didn’t have the strength to stay in the saddle and fell to the ground, unconscious. When he awoke for the second time, his horse was gone.
Two days of hard travel. Of these, one was on foot while he was injured. A pain-filled grimace crossed his face as he pushed away from the tree. He was tired and weak. The wound bled profusely at first. He packed it with dirt, but it still oozed. He looked down at his injury. He needed medical attention. No doubt that blasted Redcoat had hit near something of importance.
Cameron attempted to stand, but his legs would not hold him. He fell to the ground and a painful moan escaped him. Pushing his body up from the ground, a noise in front of him captured his attention. He raised his head up and noticed several British soldiers heading his direction.
“Damn,” he mumbled, and by some great miracle, he mustered the strength to stand.
“Halt!” one of the soldiers yelled at him.
Cameron looked at the man and then behind him. He was cornered. No matter which direction he headed, capture was evident. Well, he’d be damned if he went down without a fight. He turned to his right and took off at a slow cumbersome run.
“After him!” a man yelled.
Cameron ran as fast as his weak body would carry him. But unfortunately, it was not nearly fast enough. The small group of soldiers quickly caught up with him. He felt his body being tackled to the ground.
As the man climbed off him, he rolled Cameron over.
“Why are you running?” a man asked.
“I thought you were the men who tried to rob me,” Cameron lied.
“He’s been shot,” another man commented.
At that time, the scouts who were after him approached. “That man is a spy. Don’t let him out of your sight.”
“Who are you?” questioned the sergeant with the group.
“I am Second Corporal Brown of His Majesty’s dragoons. This man was caught transporting information regarding troop movements. I have been ordered to return him to my commanding officer for hanging.”
The sergeant nodded. “My encampment is just a short walk from here. Major Stevenson is on his way. I will deliver this man to him for punishment.”
“Very good. Thank you for your assistance in capturing this fugitive of the Crown. Please make sure he hangs for all of these peasants to see.”
“I will do my best.”
The dragoons left, leaving Cameron with his new pursuers. The sergeant looked at Cameron.
“Remove his boots.”
“Sir?” questioned the private.
“He is an enemy of the Crown. No quarter shall be shown to those who disrespect the king.”
The private removed Cameron’s boots and tossed them to the ground. He pulled Cameron to his feet and bound his arms behind him. The pain brought on by the movement caused stars to appear in Cameron’s eyes. He shook his head.
“Get walking,” the private ordered as he shoved Cameron.
Cameron stumbled and did as commanded. He did not have the strength in him to fight. The only thing that had kept him going these past few days was the image of Anna, and now he knew he would never see her again. The thought of dying and never rescuing her from Stevenson was worse than any hell imaginable. Knowing she would have to live with that bastard for the rest of her life, and he would not be there to save her was worse than any torture these men could ever inflict upon him.
Anna had not been able to leave Sarah any messages. Not that it would have mattered. Peggy’s constant presence made it impossible for her to overhear any conversations. And even if she did, it would not have made a difference. It was a grand idea Sarah had of not using the list of chores, for Albert insisted on reading each list for Sarah before he would allow her to leave it. And to add insult to injury, he had hired a woman to tend to her wigs.
Partial salvation came when Albert insisted that she travel with him to a local encampment. He seemed to think her presence would increase the morale of his weary men. Apparently, some of the men had seen her ride back into town the first day she rode to her home and found her presence inspiring.
As they rode to the camp, Anna smiled. It was the first time she had been on a horse since that night with Cameron. Her smile faded. It had been two weeks since she last saw him. Her heart ached with longing. How she need
ed to see him—to know he was safe. Sarah reported to Cameron or Mr. Christopher nightly and would give her subtle clues of his state; however, this wasn’t the same. Anna craved to see him with her own eyes. He was nourishment for her soul, and she feared it was starving without him.
As they entered the camp, Anna was in shock. There were over three hundred men here. They moved with precision. Every action appeared rehearsed. They reminded Anna of a hill of ants. Each one with a specific duty. A planned routine. Suddenly, the routine stopped as a group of men entered the encampment to her left. Several other soldiers broke their pattern and rushed to their comrades’ sides.
They held another man under his arms, dragging his feet on the ground. His head was lowered, and his arms were bound behind him. His clothing was tattered, and he was missing his shoes. Anna watched as one of the soldiers grabbed his black hair and raised his head upwards.
Her eyes widened. “Cameron?” Anna whispered as she saw his face. Mortification filled her as she observed his ashen complexion.
Albert rode to the man. “What is happening here?”
“Major Stevenson, sir,” the sentry acknowledged with a salute. “We captured this man in the woods. He was being pursued by several dragoons from South Carolina. He is a spy.”
Anna eased her mare close behind her husband.
“Mr. Christopher,” Albert said as he gazed down at the man.
Anna’s mind was racing. She had to come up with a plan to get word to Mr. Christopher about his brother. “That’s not Mr. Christopher,” she spoke before she had time to anticipate the consequences of her actions. Before she had contemplated a plan.
Think, Anna! Before her husband could respond, she continued in a rapid babble, “I spotted him at his store before we left. He was speaking with Ms. Reynolds.” She hoped that using the name of General Hatfield’s mistress would make her fabricated story sound more believable.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. You know Mr. Christopher is so easy to spot. I swear he wears the most vibrant clothing.” She scratched her chin in thought, hoping that Albert did not notice her trembling hands. “He reminds me of a peacock.”
“Indeed,” Albert drily replied. “Take the prisoner to the cage. I will be in to interrogate him momentarily.”
“Yes, sir,” the sentry replied.
Anna watched as the soldier dragged Cameron away. She felt her stomach churn with uneasiness. She closed her eyes, willing the tears of worry away. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to find her husband watching her.
“Is something amiss, Wife?”
“I find myself fatigued after this ride.” She placed her hand to her chest to emphasize the lie she was telling. “Is there someplace I can rest for a bit?”
“Private,” Albert called to a passing man.
“Yes, Major.”
“Please assist my wife to the captain’s tent so she may rest.”
“Yes, Major.” The man looked at Anna. “This way, Mrs. Stevenson.”
“Soldier, don’t leave her side.”
“Yes, sir.”
Anna followed the soldier to Captain Stone’s tent. It was easy to find. It was quite a bit larger than the other tents. As she entered, she noticed a small desk to the far side with papers scattered about. Several chairs surrounded the desk. A cot sat in the opposite corner covered in a dull gray wool blanket.
Anna walked to the chair as if walking to her death sentence. Her disheartened steps appeared as fatigue to the unobservant private.
“I will be just outside should you require anything, Mrs. Stevenson.”
“Thank you.” Anna sank into the chair by the desk. Closing her eyes, she laid her head on her arms as silent tears streamed down her cheeks.
A voice in the back of her head spoke to her. “Get up, you ninny! Cameron needs you!”
“What can I do? I am surrounded by British soldiers and have a guard at the front door. If I dare do anything, Albert will kill me.”
Her inner self rebuked, “Where has this self-pity come from?! You have always found a way to do something. When your father forbade you from going to the opera, what did you do? You did not let his tyrannical hand stop you. You snuck out and went. And since coming here, you have been more courageous than you could have ever imagined. You have secretly defied your husband at every opportunity—supplying his enemy with information. You have even taken a lover. Just because your lover is captured is no reason to claim defeat! You must fight for Cameron! You must arrange for his escape! Your husband thinks you are as daft as a doorknob and as frightened of him as a beaten dog. You are a brave, smart, resourceful woman. Use that to your advantage!”
Anna raised her head. Her conscience was right. She wiped the tears from her eyes and scanned her surroundings. What to do? What could she do? Her eyes widened as an idea sprang into her mind. She raced to where the white canvas was held together at the back of the tent. She pried open the stitching and peeked out. The opening was too small. She looked back to the desk and spotted Captain Stone’s letter opener. She grabbed the sharp, pointed object and cut the canvas, creating an opening large enough for her head to fit through. She cautiously stuck her head through the hole. A relieved sigh escaped her when she noticed no one around.
She scanned the area and noticed several tall logs being held together vertically by rope. The top of each log was sharpened to a point. There was a barred door facing her. Voices to her right caused her to pull her head back in. She pulled the canvas together but opened it just enough to be able to see. Several soldiers were dragging Cameron. He resembled a limp ragdoll. His head was down and his legs were not moving to attempt to stand. She watched as his feet dragged across the hard ground and could see their bloody soles. The men tossed Cameron into the log cage and closed the door. A lock was placed on the opening and two men took their positions on either side of the door.
Anna chewed the nail on her thumb contemplating on what to do next. Her eyes grew wide as she raced to the desk. She must send word to his brother. Grabbing a piece of paper and a quill, she penned a note. As she wrote, she had to mentally keep track of the encoded message. She did not have a cipher, like the others. She hoped that Mr. Christopher would be able to decipher her encryption. Once finished she placed a drop of hot wax on it from the burning candle. Wishing she had her seal, a resolute expression crossed her face. She would send the message to Sarah, but how would Sarah know it was from her and contained vital information? Grabbing the quill again, she scrawled an “L” on the front and called for the private.
“Yes, Mrs. Stevenson,” the young soldier answered.
“Private. I just remembered that I needed to inform my maid of something. Please have this note delivered to my maid, Sarah.”
The private took the note, looked down at it and then turned his gaze back to Anna.
“It is to be delivered to her hands only.”
“But Mrs. Stevenson—”
The young man’s protests were waved away by Anna. “Private. Please do not make my husband angry. If he found out that you refused to relay my dispatch to stop the purchase of a very expensive bonnet, what do you think he would do?”
“I…I—”
“I will tell you what he would do. You would be placed on six consecutive watches and then be reassigned to latrine duty. Do you want the job of cleaning excrement or would you rather be defeating these uncouth misfits for our king?”
“Defeating these misfits, Mrs. Stevenson.”
“Good answer. Now if you do not want to deliver my note, please find someone who does.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She pointed her finger at the private resembling a mother scolding her child. “Make certain it gets delivered directly to Sarah and no one else. My other dispatches seem to disappear if the other household staff handle them.”
“Which one is she? The others could just say they are her.”
Anna furrowed her brow. “Good point.” She lightly pi
nched her lips together with her fingers as she thought. Her face brightened. “Ask her what her father’s name is. If she answers Ian, then you have the correct woman.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Anna could hear the private call out to one of his comrades. He instructed the man to deliver the message as ordered.
Anna walked back to the chair she had vacated and sat down. Hopefully, Sarah and Mr. Christopher would be able to interpret her message.
Sarah walked to the door. Whoever was pounding on it sure was determined to have it answered. As she approached the foyer, she noticed that none of the other servants were concerned that the front door was about to be knocked down.
She jerked the door opened. “What do you want?!” she snapped.
The young soldier bowed politely. “My apologies, Miss. I have an urgent message from Mrs. Stevenson.”
“I’ll take it,” said a voice to the left. Sarah turned to find Peggy approaching.
“Sorry, Miss. I have direct orders to deliver this to Sarah only. Is she about?”
“I’m Sarah,” Peggy answered as she extended her hand.
“You are not,” Sarah answered as she whipped to face the lying woman.
“What is your father’s name?” the private asked as he looked at Peggy.
Her eyes grew wide as she realized that she did not know the answer. “What difference does that make?”
“I have strict orders. Now answer me, wench, what is your father’s name?”
Peggy bustled. “Simon.”
“Ian,” Sarah answered with a vindictive smile turned towards Peggy.
“Miss Sarah,” the private addressed as he handed the note to her. Just as soon as the note was in her hand, he left.
“Give that to me!” Peggy demanded as she reached for the letter.
“Ye ain’t me boss! Sae go find some man tae bed and be off. This letter is intended fur me only!” Sarah said in a faint Scottish accent and a warning in her voice.
Peggy advanced towards Sarah. The feisty Scotswoman grabbed a candlestick and drew her arm back. “I’ll be happy tae remove ye head if ye come a’na closer, lass.”