Chapter Twenty
Lulled by the comfort of the goose-down mattress, Rachel tried not to awaken, tried to continue the sweet dreams of her beloved Frederick. But the early morning breeze blew in through the open windows and brushed over her like a feather, inviting her to rise. The cool air carried the fragrance of some sweet flower she could not identify, along with the aroma of baking bread. On the guest room bed beside her, Mrs. Winthrop’s soft, even breathing indicated she had rested well and recovered from yesterday’s short voyage.
Rachel stretched out her limbs ready to greet the new day, but murmuring came from across the room. She lay still and strained to listen to the Middlebrook women.
“And Mr. Middlebrook said our contact wants all the information we can gather without risking exposure.” Mrs. Middlebrook’s alto whisper carried across the large chamber. “Fort Ticonderoga was a smashing success, and even after the defeat at Breed’s Hill, our militia is more determined than ever. We must discover how much support they may count on in East Florida.”
A shiver of astonishment ran through Rachel. These ladies supported the patriots ’cause? She never would have guessed it. The two locations Mrs. Middlebrook mentioned must have been the battle sites. Oh, how Rachel longed to learn what was happening in her old home city. Why, Breed’s Hill was right across the Charles River from Boston, visible from the upper floor of her brother-in-law’s mercantile shop. Had the militia suffered great losses?
“Did you learn anything from Lady Augusta?” That was the unmistakable nasal voice of Ida Baldwin. That meant their hostess was also a sympathizer.
“Humph.” Mrs. Middlebrook spoke again. “She cares for nothing but fashion and position.” A pause. “We must play our parts well. We don’t yet know whom to trust, nor do we know who our contact is. Take care. Trust no one.”
As they continued to talk in low tones, Rachel felt a small measure of shame for thinking so little of them. But after their fawning over Lady Augusta, she could not be faulted for assuming they were loyal to King George. Should she tell them of her own sympathies for the revolution? A sense of caution filled her. None of these people knew her. Even at their introduction, no one had mentioned she came from Boston. Best to keep her own counsel. Why, they did not even know the name of their contact.
Yet if Rachel could discover who that person was, perhaps she could let him know she too was a patriot. Perhaps he would give her an assignment, as he had these ladies. She would befriend them, at least as much as they would permit her, and try to learn all she could.
She inhaled a noisy yawn and rolled over to stretch. The women abruptly stopped speaking and stared at her as if she were an intruder.
“Good morning.” Sleep filled her voice, and she rubbed her eyes.
They murmured their greetings in return.
“I’ll send the servants with hot water.” Mrs. Baldwin left the room.
“Oh, Mother,” Elsie Middlebrook simpered. “Do you think that handsome Mr. Moberly will ask me to dance at the ball?”
“If he asks either of us to dance, I should be the one,” Leta said. “After all, I’m the oldest.”
Rachel buried her face in the pillow to hide her mirth. They had resumed their roles as silly girls, and she would do nothing to interrupt their performance. As for Frederick, she would make certain he had no opportunity to ask either of them to dance, for she planned to fully occupy his time during the ball.
After morning ablutions and dressing, the ladies gathered in the breakfast room. Mrs. Baldwin announced that the men had eaten earlier and had then gone hunting. Rachel missed Frederick, even though she had not expected to see him here. As befitted their stations, he and the Brighams had spent the night at the governor’s mansion. And although Mrs. Winthrop treated Rachel with kindness, the others still seemed uncertain how to place her in their social hierarchy. She could stave off loneliness only by thinking ahead to when she would see Frederick.
With all the exuberance of a woman who loved her city, Mrs. Baldwin gave the ladies a tour of St. Augustine, especially King George Street’s many shops. Rachel’s interest was piqued at the two rival mercantile stores. She would be certain to inform Papa about their displays of fabric, sewing supplies, spices and other wares. Like their own store, one mercantile bore the fragrance of lavender, while the other did not. She surmised that the scent must encourage customers to linger and perhaps make more purchases. The millinery shop also attracted her attention with its many broad-brimmed hat styles, for the fiery sun blasted down upon the women of St. Johns Settlement, as it did upon their counterparts in East Florida’s capital.
As the ladies emerged from the milliner’s, the Middlebrook daughters stared off across the sandy stretch of ground toward the fort.
“Mrs. Baldwin,” said Leta Middlebrook, “may we not visit Fort St. Marks? I should love to see all the renovations and the grand new cannons.”
“Renovations? Cannons?” Her sister Elsie giggled. “It’s the soldiers you want to see.”
Leta put on a pout. “And I suppose you don’t wish to see a certain handsome lieutenant posted there.”
While Mrs. Baldwin assured them that a tour of the regimental headquarters had been arranged for later in the day, Rachel studied the two sisters with interest. Beneath their bickering lay an affection she had never known with Susanna, whose nine year seniority had made her more mother than sister, especially after their mother died. But these two had another bond to incite Rachel’s envy. United in the colonists’ cause, they no doubt wanted to tour the fort to garner information for their father’s patriot contact. Rachel would try to do that, too.
After a midday meal of bread, cheese and fruit, the ladies retired to the guest room. Rachel pretended to sleep, hoping the Middlebrooks would once again talk of spying. But they all lay quiet. Soon hazy, happy dreams of Frederick fogged her mind, and in no time she felt herself being shaken.
“Wake up, my dear.” Mrs. Winthrop gently shook her. “Mr. Moberly has come calling.”
With a gasp of delight, Rachel jumped out of bed. “He’s here? Oh, my!” While hurrying to freshen up and put on her blue dress, she cast a nervous glance toward the other beds, but the Middlebrook ladies were no longer there. “How do I look?”
“Hmm.” Mrs. Winthrop studied her up and down, then led her to the dressing table. “Let me see what I can do to help.” She brushed Rachel’s long, thick hair into a smooth roll at her neck and used a tortoiseshell comb to keep it in place. “And now the hat.” She secured Rachel’s straw bonnet with a long hatpin. “Lovely. Now go and enjoy your tour. And take this.” She held out her own parasol.
Rachel’s face warmed. “Thank you. But won’t you be going on the tour?”
Mrs. Winthrop’s eyes twinkled. “Why, yes.” From her small trunk, she removed a wide-brimmed hat that sported silk flowers and a large fluffy feather, which she gently shook back into its natural shape. “Mr. Folger is escorting me.”
Rachel grasped Mrs. Winthrop’s hands. “I am well pleased, madam. Very well pleased.” She placed a quick kiss on the lady’s cheek. “Enjoy your afternoon.”
She descended the marble stairway and found Frederick alone in the large airy drawing room, staring up at a painting of King George III above the mantel. Her pulse raced. How handsome Frederick looked in his brown waistcoat and fawn breeches. With difficulty, she suppressed the desire to hasten across the tile floor and embrace him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Moberly.”
He turned, his eyes aglow with affection. “Rachel.” With long, quick strides he reached her and enfolded her in his arms.
She rested against him and let every concern flow away like water after a rain.
After a few sweet moments, he moved back. “Come sit with me.” He waved one hand toward the carved mahogany settee in front of the hearth.
“Are we not going to the fort?” Her words rushed out on a quivering breath. “I mean, if you wish to talk instead, I’ve no objections, but—�
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“Yes, I do want to take you there. But first we must settle a matter.” Frederick sounded a bit breathless, too.
“Oh.” Every nerve seemed to dance within her. “Very well. What is it?”
“Would you not like to sit?” A mixture of happiness and confusion skipped across his brow. He took her hand and tugged her to the settee.
Working hard not to laugh with excitement, Rachel surrendered to his lead. He sat beside her and folded both of her hands in his.
“Rachel, I—” He blinked. “No, that will not do.” Still grasping her hands, he slid down on one knee before her and cleared his throat. “Rachel, we have not known each other long, but, that is…”
Bursting with happiness, her heart nevertheless ached for his discomfort. “Yes, I will.”
Again he blinked. “You will?”
“Must I say it again? Yes, I will.”
A sheepish grin crept across his whole face. “I feel foolish.” He moved to sit beside her. “Thank you for making it easy for me.”
Rachel reached up and stroked the dark midday stubble on his unlined cheek. “Please set your mind at ease, dear Frederick. I would not have you feel foolish with me.”
His expression relaxed into sublimity. “Nor would I have you anything but happy, my dear.”
They gazed at each other in silence for some time, enjoying the moment. But soon, Rachel felt a twinge of impatience.
“You may kiss me now.”
To her surprise, Frederick frowned. In fact, he stood and walked to the hearth. “I don’t know, Rachel. I promised Captain Templeton I would never do anything improper regarding you.”
“Jamie? What does he have to do with us?” She jumped up and strode to his side, gripping his arm to turn him around. Another grin played at one corner of his lips, and mischief beamed from his eyes. Rachel laughed. “Oh, I will scold him thoroughly when he returns. As for you, Mr. Moberly, I am certain it’s perfectly proper to seal an engagement with a kiss, and it is nothing short of nonsense to wait any longer.”
Just as she stood on tiptoes and tilted her head to kiss him, he bent down, and their lips met with a painful bump.
“Ouch.” She touched her burning lips and wondered if her front teeth had been knocked loose.
“Unh.” He touched his lips and wiggled his jaw. “Well, I must say that was not what I was expecting.” Clearly trying to recover, he began to chortle. “Our first kiss, and I make a muddle of it.”
Rachel joined him in laughing. “I did my part to spoil it, too.” She turned towards the door. “Shall we go to the fort now?”
He caught her and spun her back, pulling her into his arms. “Do you not want to try that kiss again?”
Her breath caught at his gentle assertiveness. “Perhaps one not so painful.”
“Very well, then. Hold still.” His gray eyes twinkled.
She tilted her face upward and closed her eyes. At the gentle touch of his soft lips on hers, a rush of joy and certainty filled her heart. She loved him. He loved her. Whatever the coming days brought their way, they could work out their differences and face the future together.
Chapter Twenty-One
As Frederick escorted Rachel to the fort, he thought he might burst with happiness. Tonight at the ball, he would ask Governor Tonyn to announce their betrothal. And if Rachel agreed, they would marry as soon as they returned to St. Johns Settlement. Although Frederick would like to marry her this very day, Reverend Johnson would appreciate the honor of performing the ceremony. And of course, Mrs. Winthrop would insist that they post the banns.
Rachel placed a dainty hand on Frederick’s arm, and he covered it with his. She glanced up from time to time, giving him smiles he felt from his chest to his toes. The sparkle in her dark brown eyes revealed that her joy equaled his.
Now and forever, he would do everything in his power to ensure she remained happy, as Father had always endeavored to please Mother. Only now had he begun to appreciate Father’s better side. No matter how much Lord Bennington disapproved of his youngest son, he had always been a tender, generous husband, an example Frederick aspired to follow with all diligence. With sweet Rachel as his bride, he would find the task easy.
Rachel seemed particularly interested in exploring the fort, and Frederick would use his influence to see her every wish was granted. His dear little dissenter might feel some sympathy for the northern rebellion, but nothing in St. Augustine should stir her concern. This morning during their hunt, the governor informed the men that the situation was firmly in hand. Despite the presence of a few dissidents in the colony, no strong rebel leaders had arisen to bring the mounting conflict this far south. Loyalist militias had formed in many areas. And with the able help of Mr. Stuart, the Choctaw Indians had been persuaded to help guard the border between East Florida and Georgia. That should settle the matter.
“Look, Frederick.” Rachel nodded toward the couple some fifteen yards ahead. “Do you not think it dear that Papa and Mrs. Winthrop have become friends?”
“I do.” Frederick watched his elegant kinswoman, graceful even as she walked along the rough, sandy path on Mr. Folger’s arm. “I wish them to be as happy as we are.”
Rachel repositioned her hand, looping her arm through his. “Surely no one could be happier.”
“Surely not.” He forced his gaze away from her tempting lips. Of course he would not demonstrate his affection for her in full sight of others. But more than the heat of the day brought warmth surging up to his face. Both their first disastrous kiss and the sweet one that followed had only increased his love for her. They must marry soon. Until then, he would direct his thoughts toward learning more of her interests.
At the fort’s wooden drawbridge, guards stood at attention with their muskets shouldered, while the corporal in charge saluted and waved them beneath the raised iron gate. Beside him, Rachel shuddered. “Are you well?” Frederick asked.
Her pretty little nose wrinkled as if she smelled something foul. “Yes, thank you.”
She sent him a quick smile that did nothing to reassure him. But as they walked through the shadowed passageway leading to the fort’s open courtyard, Frederick took in the odor of the unwashed soldiers who stood on either side. Their crimson uniforms might have the look of courage, but surely something lighter than wool would be more appropriate for this tropical climate. He would make inquiries in his next letter home. For now, he would try to shield Rachel from the stench that seemed to displease her.
Many other guests had already assembled in the courtyard and divided into smaller groups. A slender young officer approached Frederick and Rachel and bowed.
“Mr. Moberly, I am Lieutenant Cobb, sir. I’ll be your guide.” He pointed toward a wide stone staircase. “Shall we begin with the upper gun deck?”
They ascended the steps and emerged onto the wide bastion where a row of cannons jutted toward the sea through the battlement openings. Guard towers stood sentinel at each arrow-shaped corner of the fort. Above them, the red, white and blue Union Jack snapped proudly in the breeze, lifting Frederick’s soul with love of country and king and life itself.
He noticed that Rachel’s gaze swept over the impressive guns and nearby powder kegs as if she were counting them.
“Tell me, lieutenant,” she said, “if a ship fires a cannon from the harbor, can it blow a hole in this wall?”
The officer chuckled. “No, miss. You’ve no need to fear. There’s not a cannon made that can break through it. Even if a vessel sailed close enough without our navy blasting her out of the water, the cannonballs would bounce off the coquina and barely make a dent. The Spanish were right smart to use the natural stone to build this fort.” He pointed across Matanzas Bay to a sandy promontory that guarded the inlet. “They quarried it from that island.”
“Ah, I see.” She brushed her gloved hand across the low wall. “Then how did the British, I mean, how did we gain control of it? Was there a battle?”
Frederick noticed
her word change with satisfaction. She had already begun to consider herself a British subject.
“No, miss, we had no need for a battle. The Treaty of Paris in ’63 gave all of Florida to the Crown. The Spanish packed up and left, and in we marched.” The lieutenant seemed to enjoy his own discourse. “Since early this year, we’ve been making the repairs you see in progress, including building a second floor beneath these battlements to hold more troops and supplies. We are prepared for anything the rebels might attempt.” He waved his arm to take in the entire fort. “We’re now the regimental headquarters, something you no doubt already know. The well has been cleaned out, and we can safely drink the water, which is particularly helpful in this hot weather, and the prison’s been reinforced. Just in time, too, as we have a few rebels there who need a place to sit and behave themselves until things settle down up north.”
Rachel shuddered, and her lips began to quiver. “You have pat…r-rebels right here in this fort?”
“Shh.” Frederick put his arm around her. “I’m sure it’s all right.”
She looked up at him with a forlorn expression. “But—”
“Please permit me to assure you, miss.” Lieutenant Cobb stepped closer, a solicitous frown on his brow. “They cannot escape. You are safe.”
Rachel still stared at Frederick, her eyes wide. “Will they be e-executed?”
The lieutenant glanced at Frederick, questioning him with a grimace. Frederick shook his head. Rachel’s tender concern for the prisoners was admirable and understandable, but she need not know the worst.
“No, miss, the commander has no orders to execute them, for they have not been accused of treason…or spying. Those would be the hanging offenses.” He shrugged. “I’m not certain what the charges will be, or if there will be any charges. All I know is they were speaking in favor of the rebellion and stirring up local rabble in the taverns, and Governor Tonyn thought it best to keep them here so they could do no more mischief.”
Love Thine Enemy Page 17