Authors: Beverly Jenkins
“My father was a warrior for justice. I did it in his honor.”
She saw Prince hand a plate to Mr. Freeman, who turned to Faith and bowed.
In response, she said, “You’re welcome, sir.”
Grey hadn’t moved, however. He was still looking down at her and assessing her; for what, she had no idea.
Charity was right; he was nice to look at, especially up close. “I need to get back.”
He gave her a simple nod but continued to hold her eyes.
She heard someone behind him say, “Mr. Grey, I knew your father well . . .”
He turned away, and Faith and her wildly beating heart slipped back into the crowd. When she looked over at her father, he was frowning.
The event ended an hour so later. Mr. Freeman left to see to the freedom of his wife, and the crowd began to exit in twos and threes. Charity and Ingram left as well in order to retrieve their son. Faith and the remaining women were in the kitchen attending to the cleanup when her father walked in.
“Faith, some of the Tories would like to meet while we’re all in town. Would you mind riding back with Widow Lawson?”
“Not as long as she doesn’t mind.”
Blythe looked up from the dishes she was washing in a big iron tub. “I’d enjoy the company.”
Her father bowed. “Thank you, widow. Faith, I will see you this evening.”
“Be careful on the roads.”
He nodded and left them to their work.
The kitchen was set to rights a short time later and the women began to leave for their homes. While Blythe made room in the back of her wagon bed, Faith carried out the items that were going inside. The last load was a large, heavy crate holding kettles and the gridirons the meats had cooked upon. Struggling with the weight, she stepped outside and stopped at the sight of Nicholas Grey talking with Blythe beside the wagon. Upon seeing her so loaded down, he came to her aid.
“Let me help you.”
Without argument the grateful Faith passed him the crate. “Thank you.” He was chivalrous as well as generous. She reminded herself that he also held her father responsible for Primus’s arrest.
When they reached the wagon Blythe said, “I’ll be back in a few moments. I need to speak with Mrs. Carstairs before she drives off. Faith, make sure we didn’t leave anything behind.”
“I will.”
Blythe hurried away, calling to and waving at Mrs. Carstairs.
“Where would you like this placed?” he asked, bringing her attention back to him.
She indicated an empty spot near the front of the wagon bed and he set it down.
Avoiding his captivating eyes she said, “I’m going to run back in and do as she asked. Thank you again for your help.”
“I’m giving a reception next week so that I may meet more of the community. May I interest you in being my hostess?”
Faith stopped and said, “You know I can’t agree to such a proposal.”
“Suppose I hire you to provide the meal then?”
“At a price, I’m assuming?” She and her father could use some extra funds.
“Name it.”
Faith rattled off a price she hoped would make him choke and rescind his offer, but he met her eyes as blandly as if she’d quoted the temperature. “Fine,” he said to her. “I’ll stop by the inn tomorrow and we can discuss the menu.”
She almost choked. “You’d pay so much?”
Enjoying himself more than he ever thought he would, Nick said, “I’d pay twice that amount for your services, Miss Kingston.”
“You make it sound as if I’m offering something illicit.”
“Are you?”
In response to his tone and his eyes, a shimmering warmth flooded Faith that she’d never experienced before. She managed to say, “Of course not.”
“Pity,” he replied softly.
He was so dazzling, she felt dizzy for a moment. Fighting to regain her equilibrium, she told him, “Go away,” but the demand lacked strength. He was entirely too handsome and volatile for such an inexperienced woman as herself.
“I’ll go, but only because if I don’t, I’ll be asking you rude questions like: Have you ever been kissed, Faith Kingston?”
Faith had to close her eyes or fall over.
“Good-bye, Miss Kingston.”
When she opened her eyes he was walking away. She fell back against the wagon with relief.
“Are you all right, dear?” Blythe asked, walking up.
Faith hastily straightened. “Yes. Are you ready to leave?”
Blyth turned to watch Nicholas ride away before turning back. She eyed Faith for a quiet moment before saying, “I’m ready when you are.”
D
id you know my father was passing secrets to the rebels?” Nicholas asked Blythe. During their short conversation outside the church, they’d arranged to meet here at her home after the fund-raisor so he could speak with her about his father’s arrest. They were seated in her well-furnished parlor.
“May I ask why you’d think I would?”
“Because of what you were to each other.”
She smiled softly, “And that was?”
“Friends. Confidants. Lovers.”
Her sigh of response barely rippled the silence. “I miss him so.”
Seated in a nearby chair, Nicholas waited.
“He was all of that to me and more. Much more. When I heard he’d been arrested I paid bribes, called in favors. I tried to move heaven and earth to get him released.”
“But you couldn’t.”
“No. One of the soldiers said they wanted to make an example of him to the rest of the race as to how dangerous it is to support the rebels. They’re hoping we won’t get involved in the fight, but we already are, or at least some of us are. Men like Kingston and his Tories are the exception.”
“I’ve heard rumors that Kingston might have been involved with the arrest.”
“The only thing I know for certain is that he hated Primus.”
“Do you know why?”
“No. Primus never talked about why, only that they were best friends growing up, which surprised me, but after they settled here something changed.”
Yet another mystery, Nicholas thought. “Tell me about his daughter. I’m surprised such a beauty isn’t married.”
“There’s a strong mind beneath that lovely face and some men are put off by that. Faith’s no meek miss waiting to do a husband’s biding.”
That jibed with what Faith had revealed, but he’d wanted to hear Blythe’s take, too. “Does she follow her father’s thinking?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“That’s a cryptic answer.”
“These are cryptic times, no?”
He allowed her that, so he turned his thoughts away from Mistress Kingston and back to his father’s arrest. “Did Primus ever mention a Lady Midnight? I asked Prince about her, but he was purposefully vague, I’m thinking.”
“As I said, these are cryptic times. Some things are not to be shared.”
“Not even with the man stepping into my father’s shoes?”
She paused and gauged him closely. “Really?”
“Prince asked me this morning if I would consider it, and I gave him my reply at the church.”
“And you said yes.”
He nodded.
“Your father would approve.”
Her response gave him the answer to the question he’d sought at the beginning of their conversation. “So you did know about his secret work with the rebels?”
“Your father and I were links in a long and circuitous chain. Why are you curious about the Lady Midnight?”
“According to Artemis Clegg, she visited Primus just before the arrest, so I am anxious to speak with her. I’m hoping she can reveal the identity of whoever betrayed him.”
Blythe went silent for a few moments, and he wondered what she might be holding back. “Your thoughts?” he asked.
“I would like to know who betrayed him as well. I have made some discreet inquiries, but so far nothing tangible has come to light.”
“Has anyone else been arrested in the interim?”
“Yes, but no one with ties to the free Black community. Although we do wonder who else may be on Gage’s list.”
“Prince said that his flat is under constant watch.”
“As are many others.”
“And you?”
“I’ve seen nothing that indicates such, but it is more difficult for the British to keep watch out here in the countryside. They are too busy with all that is going on in the city.”
“Prince also said that only a few people know how to contact Lady Midnight. I assume my father was one and that possibly you are another?”
Again she studied him but finally admitted, “Yes, I am, but know this, Nicholas. I will betray you before I bring the British down on her head. Should she be exposed, she will hang, and I would not like to see that happen.”
He met her eyes and saw the quiet determination they held. “All right. I will not press you further on the matter of her identity, but will she continue to work through me?”
“There is no guarantee. She trusted your father with her life. She may not feel the same about you.”
“One last question. Why weren’t you the one to take over my father’s contacts?”
“Although we were links in the same chain, our positions on that chain were different. His information went directly into Boston. Mine flows elsewhere.”
Nicholas thought about all that he’d learned. This was a deadly game he’d signed on to play and any wrong moves could leave him with a noose around his throat. He’d have to proceed with stealth and caution. “You will let the Lady Midnight know about the new arrangement?”
“I will, and we will see how she responds.”
“Thank you for allowing me to monopolize your evening, and for being so forthright with your replies to my many questions.”
“Your father would have expected no less. So what have you been doing with your life since the war?”
He told her about the years he spent trapping and guiding and living with the Iroquois, but left out being shanghaied and his subsequent life as a smuggler. “Made a veritable fortune, but had no idea Primus would leave this life without me having a chance to wish him Godspeed.”
“I’m sure he felt the same.”
Nick’s laugh was harsh. “No need to lie to me, Blythe.”
“It’s true. You’ve no idea how pleased he was to receive your letters.”
Nick found that surprising. “But he never acknowledged them with a reply.”
“He could be stubborn, but he cherished your words and he worried when they stopped coming for a while. He’d given you up for dead until your letters started to arrive again.”
Nick had stopped writing because of the hell he’d found himself in after being impressed.
“You haven’t married?” Blythe asked.
“No. No desire to put down the roots a wife and family require.”
“And now?”
He shrugged, and Faith’s face flashed across his mind’s eye. “I could be ready with the right woman. It’s good for a man to have sons.”
“And daughters,” she reminded him sagely.
Amusement lit his tone. “And daughters. I’d like to give a reception next Saturday in order to reintroduce myself to the community. I’d be honored if you would be my hostess.”
“I’d love to. Would you like for me to prepare the guest list?”
“That would be helpful. Miss Kingston has offered to help with the food.”
“Really? And her father’s allowing it?”
“I’ve no idea what he will say, but if he’s the man I believe him to be, the price I’m offering for her services should appease him.”
She eyed him for a long moment before saying, “I’ll not have you trifling with her feelings, Nicholas.”
“I don’t trifle, Blythe. She’s a wonderful cook.”
“She is, but—”
Their eyes met.
“Never mind,” Blythe said. “I trust you will be a gentleman.”
Nick inclined his head. “Thank you.”
“I’ll include some of the area’s eligible young ladies on the guest list just in case you decide you do want a wife. Would you like to have the reception here? It may be more convenient than attempting to get your own home ready for such an event.”
Nick liked the sound of that. “That makes sense, so yes, if it isn’t an inconvenience.”
“I’d enjoy it.”
“As to the young women on the guest list. No insipid ones, please. My ideal candidate will be someone able to hold a decent conversation without having her eyes glaze over.”
She replied with a soft peal of laughter. “I will keep that in mind.”
Nicholas got to his feet and she followed.
As she walked with him to the front door, she said, “It’s been lovely chatting with you.”
“For me as well.” He paused for a moment, then pledged, “I’ll not stop looking for the person who betrayed my father.”
“I know you won’t because neither will I.”
He nodded. “Good night, Blythe.”
“Be well.”
T
he following morning Faith was up before dawn tossing wood on the fire in the kitchen’s big stone grate to begin the day. The room was cold as it always was at that time. Shivering, she pulled her gray shawl closer and used the poker on the logs to prod the flames higher. It would take a while for the wood to be consumed enough to cook on, so she got out her wooden dough bowl to start the biscuits. As she worked, the kitchen gradually warmed and the fire reduced some of the fat logs to the charcoal-like ash necessary to cook on. Wiping her dough-covered hands clean, she hiked up her skirts and petticoats and tucked the hems into the waistband of her skirt, leaving her stocking-covered legs exposed. Many women died from fires started by sparks on their long skirts, and Faith had no desire to be among their number. It was indecent, yes, but a commonly accepted safety precaution practiced by every cook.
She checked the bacon frying in the skillets sitting on top of the raised gridirons near the front of the fire, then stirred the breakfast stew of meat and vegetables cooking nicely in the big iron pot hanging on the rod fixed into the back of the grate. Each portion of the big fireplace was a different temperature, and it took skill to have everything done in the same time span. Once she placed the biscuits in the Dutch oven, she put the lid on and placed it near the front of the fire. She then used a long-handled fire shovel to pile some of the charcoal on top of the lid. Now that she had everything cooking, she paused to take a breath. She heard voices coming from the main room. Curious as to who it might be at such an early hour, she stepped out to find her father conversing with a British soldier. When the conversation ended, the soldier departed.
“What did he want so early?”
“He’s a scout sent ahead by General Gage and his officers. They’ll be here in under an hour to eat. Make sure everything’s ready.”
Nodding, she went back into the kitchen.
The general and his men arrived forty minutes later and immediately headed down to the cellar room. When she had everything ready, she placed the food onto a tray and carried it down the earth-carved steps to the cellar. As she approached, she heard Gage snarl, “I’ve had enough. We will put an end to this rebel nonsense as soon as and as quickly as we can. By mid April it will be over.”
Surprised etched her face and she stopped. The ramifications of his words were enormous. Composing herself, she entered the room. All conversation ceased.
Once done with the serving, she left them as silently as she’d come. Hoping Gage might continue the conversation, she quickly went into the wood bin and was just getting herself into position when she heard behind her, “What are you doing?”
Startled, she turned and came face to face with one of the aides. “I’m getting more wood for the grates, sir,” she managed to say without stammering. Her heart was thumping against her chest.
He eyed her suspiciously. “Then get about it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Under his watchful stance, Faith hastily filled her arms with some of the rough-cut wood, and after giving him a nod, moved past him and headed up the stairs. She could feel his eyes on her back, so she didn’t turn around.
Once alone in the kitchen, she waited until her galloping heart slowed and then thanked providence that he’d shown up when he had. Had it been a few moments later, she would have had a harder time explaining why she was in the room and not already gone. In the future she might have to find another way to eavesdrop, but for the present, she pondered what she’d heard. If Gage was indeed planning an imminent move against the rebels, word needed to be spread so that preparations could be made to meet the assault. She supposed she could send word to the Sons of Liberty by Charity again, although she preferred another way. Should Ingram ever find out her role, their marriage might be destroyed and Charity cast out. Although Charity had undoubtedly weighed the risks when she began her tradecraft, Faith preferred not to use her too often. She supposed she could pass on what she’d heard to Blythe and let her handle it from there. As far as Faith knew, no one had been appointed to replace Primus. She assumed the role would be filled eventually, but she had no way of knowing if it would be someone she could trust. If all else failed she could take a chance on leaving a message at the home of John Hancock. It would mean sneaking out of the house again, but Gage’s plans were important enough to take the risk.
While trying to decide on the best course of action, she added the wood in her arms to the stack by the grate. She was checking the biscuits still cooking in the Dutch oven when her father entered.
“Are they served?” he asked.
“Yes. You’d think they would offer some words of thanks for it.” She continued to be offended by their lack of manners.