The Courier of Caswell Hall (11 page)

Her heart sank. She was hoping to warn Nathan while they were enjoying their food.

She spoke louder this time. “I can take them to the servants’ quarters while you inform the servants of their temporary quarters.”

Hannah followed right behind her. “I will come with you.”

Lydia shook her head. “There is no need.”

“You may both escort them,” Father said and then faced the major. “We have a room prepared for you in the main house.”

“I will accompany my men to their quarters first.”

Hannah followed Lydia down the steps, and Lydia dared to glance over at the darkened top window of the coach house. Surely Nathan could see them all. She would have to stall to give him time to escape. Slowly she guided the men toward the servants’ quarters on the opposite side of the coach house.

She prayed Nathan would somehow find the strength to run.

She directed two of the soldiers into the first room. One man would have a bed and the other would have to sleep on a mat, she explained. Neither of them complained about the conditions.

“Where have you been staying in Richmond?” Hannah asked one of the men.

“In a barn.”

That would explain the stench that clung to their clothes.

“I hope our plantation will provide better accommodations for you,” Lydia said.

“We might not leave,” the man said, laughing. Lydia didn’t return his laughter.

Had Mother considered this possibility? Perhaps that was why she was so nervous. Not that Lydia could blame the soldiers, of course—she wouldn’t want to sleep in a barn either—but she wasn’t certain her family should entertain soldiers for long at Caswell Hall. The townspeople
in Williamsburg were sure to find out, and the knowledge could be detrimental to their entire plantation. Many Loyalists had retreated into silence, and it was impossible to know who was truly loyal to the Crown and who had changed their mind.

Lydia swallowed. She must keep her focus on Nathan, on giving him the opportunity to escape.

Opening the door to the next room, she lingered, explaining to the ten remaining soldiers the particulars of their quarters.

“Four fireplaces warm this building,” she continued, “and the servants will keep those stoked for you. Breakfast is at eight each morning in the main house.”

“We can discuss all that later.” Hannah nudged her arm. “Come along.”

“We will send one of the servants to bring fresh water for the bathhouse.” She didn’t want to command that they bathe, but she hoped they understood she was in earnest.

Hannah tugged Lydia’s sleeve. “The others are waiting.”

“You lectured me this morning on the importance of knowledge.” “They do not need to know every detail—”

Lydia continued. “The servants will also bring towels. And clean linens.”

“Lydia!”

She scanned the faces of the men. “Are there any questions?”

Major Reed stepped up beside Hannah. “You have explained everything quite well, Miss Caswell. Shall we proceed?”

“Of course.”

Two men occupied each room, and with every step they took toward the coach house, her heart rate increased. Surely Nathan knew they were coming, but what if he hadn’t left?

There was no good scenario, and she despaired at the thought of his death. She didn’t know his intentions after he left their property, but he had certainly done no harm while he was here.

When they closed the last door of the servants’ quarters, two men remained along with Major Reed and Hannah.

Lydia shrugged. “I am afraid you shall have to stay in a room with two of your fellow officers.”

Hannah laughed. “You are frightfully silly, sister. They need not
all
stay in the servants’ quarters. They can stay in your coach house.”

In that moment, Lydia wished Father
had
muzzled Hannah. Or locked her in the attic and tossed the key into the James.

She shook her head. “Our driver resides there.”

“Elisha can sleep in the stable,” Hannah insisted as she guided the men away from Lydia.

Lydia’s mind raced as she hurried to catch up, her stomach churning. Surely there was something she could do to deter them. Scream. Stomp. Pretend the house was on fire.

But all of those would bring suspicion on her and her family. There must be something else—

Hannah climbed the steps in front of her and reached for the door latch, the others trailing on the stairs behind her. Lydia reached for her sister’s hand and smiled as graciously as she could muster. “Perhaps you might escort Major Reed to the main house.”

Hannah shook her head. “I do not think—”

Lydia turned and spoke to the major at the base of the steps. “Mother will have the tea and biscuits waiting for you.”

“I believe that is a splendid idea,” Major Reed said.

Hannah looked at the blanket covering Elisha’s window as if she would find Lydia’s secret inside. Lydia watched her closely, wondering what she saw, if she saw anything at all. Hannah climbed back down the steps and took Major Reed’s arm, glancing once over her shoulder as he escorted her away.

Lydia pointed toward the river, telling the two officers about the ships that traveled up and down from the bay. They didn’t appear the least bit interested about the colony’s shipping endeavors, but she didn’t stop her lecture until Major Reed and Hannah were out of her view. Then she had no choice but to proceed.

Reaching for the latch, she prayed that Nathan had already made his escape, that he had strolled in leisure off the plantation and perhaps some friendly colonist had given him a ride to Richmond.

Her heart collapsed when she opened the door.

Nathan wasn’t gone. He was standing in the room, dressed in his plain cotton shirt and waistcoat, the old linsey-wool trousers, and the scarf that Mother knitted. Her brother’s black tricorn hat dipped low over his forehead; his hair was tied back in the yellow ribbon she had given him. In one hand, he leaned against a cane, and draped over his other arm was a blanket from the bed.

She wanted to yell at him to run—and she wanted to run with him—but she steadied herself, trying to make her voice strong.

“What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

“I’m sorry, Miss—Miss Caswell.” He kept his head lowered. “Miss Prudence—she told me to fetch the blankets from the beds.”

Slowly she processed his words, his demeanor. And then she breathed deeply. Nathan didn’t have to run. If she could stop the trembling inside her, together they could convince these men that he was one of the indentured servants that worked on the plantation.

She swallowed a cough. “Then take that blanket to Prudence straightaway.”

“Yes, miss.” He scooted slowly around her, limping as he walked.

“After you are done, Elisha needs your help with our guests’ livery.”

He nodded again and slowly moved down the steps.

She whispered to the soldiers. “Please forgive his ignorance. When he was sixteen, an unfortunate accident with one of our horses left him lame and a bit slow in the head.”

She glanced one more time at Nathan as he hobbled down the steps, and he winked at her before he moved toward the trees at the river’s bank.

The soldiers inched around her, one sitting on the stool and the other on the edge of the bed. She thought they would ask questions about a white man cleaning their rooms, but they did not seem to notice anything amiss. Perhaps they were too afraid to ask a question of her, afraid she might bore them with her explanation.

Godspeed
,
Nathan
.

After he delivered his message, she hoped he was well enough to return to his family.

Nathan ducked behind a tree and leaned back against the trunk, gulping in the fresh air. It had only been a short walk to the riverbank, but his foot was throbbing. Thank God for Elisha’s cane—and for Lydia’s sharp wit and calm demeanor as she played along with his scheme. Thank God Major Reed and his men wouldn’t think to look for him here.

Unlike the bright-red coats of the Tories, his stained cotton shirt blended into the willows and underbrush. He sank onto the ground, hidden by the barren branches, and watched Lydia stroll like a gentle lady toward the main house. Her beautiful chestnut hair was hidden behind the hood of her cloak, and she didn’t make the slightest move to look his way.

Part of him wished she would look one last time, a parting glance of sorts, a secret for them to keep. But even a single glance was risky. Anyone watching her might suspect his location if she had.

If only she was on the Patriots’ side—

But she wasn’t, and no amount of wishing would change Lydia or her family’s loyalties. Still, he owed his life to her. Once the Patriots won this war, he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.

He glanced out at the wide river that drummed against the banks. If Lydia hadn’t found him, if she hadn’t been willing to risk her reputation and perhaps even her life, he would have died by the river.

Elisha said to walk east to find his boat, but he would wait until dark to retrieve it.

Checking inside his waistcoat, he found the small pouch made of deer hide secured there, the letter safe and dry inside. Then he patted the top of the blanket he’d taken out of the room, his excuse to escape.
Wrapped inside the blanket was the package of food that Elisha had provided for him, along with the woolen scarf once worn by Lydia’s brother.

He smiled.

Perhaps one day he could return the blanket and clothing to Lydia.

Lydia’s hands trembled as she tugged on one of the pale-blue gloves that matched her gown, even as Hannah chattered endlessly about which of their new guests she thought handsome and which she’d already determined to be dolts. Until now, Lydia had been too preoccupied to examine any of their guests for their appearance or wit. There was only one man who concerned her, and oddly enough, it wasn’t Seth Hammond.

Two years ago, after the family’s last formal dinner, Seth had stood with her and Father in the privacy of their library, declaring his fervor for freedom. Father had been so angry that he’d struck Seth across the cheek.

Seth tried to explain that he would never have killed the senior Caswell, that not all men on the side of the Patriots believed that those who remained loyal to the Crown should be humiliated. Most of their men simply wanted freedom, not rebellion, and he could not understand why Lord Caswell didn’t demand freedom from tyranny as well. Her father responded that the king should rule their nation just as he himself ruled Caswell Hall.

Then Seth had looked at her, imploring her with his eyes to take a stand. She remembered the moment as if it was hours ago. He’d reached for her hand, but instead of standing with him, she’d stepped away.

Everything changed in that one moment. His eyes no longer invited her to him. Instead, they seemed to dismiss her. He never broke their engagement, not officially, but in that moment, she knew he might never marry her, not unless she became a Patriot. Even then, it might be too late.

She wished they didn’t have to fight, neither the British nor the colonists. She wished she didn’t have to choose a side.

Her parents entered the door to her chamber, and she took a deep breath. It was time to attend the dinner.

Father escorted the Caswell women down to the great hall. Their uniformed guests were waiting to sit at the two long tables provided to accommodate all of them. A hundred pale-green candles glowed, and the sweet fragrance of the myrtle-berry wax seemed to mask the stench of the men who hadn’t bathed.

Viney served them wild duck soaked in wine, slices of salted ham, a platter of sweetmeats, crab from the nearby bay, cabbage with vinegar, bread pudding, and onion pie. As Lydia looked down the table, she realized some of the men were indeed handsome, as Hannah had said. Major Reed was probably the most handsome of all, but smugness enveloped his features like the gloves enveloped her hands. There was little she despised more than a man who believed his very presence to be a gift to others.

She sighed. The major’s demeanor was so very unlike Nathan’s, but then again, the pride of her previous guest had probably drowned in the river. Perhaps Major Reed had yet the opportunity to experience the death of his pride.

Breathing deeply, Lydia lifted her silver spoon and took a bite of some currants mixed in with the bread pudding. The men on both sides of her reveled in small talk with her family, but her mind wasn’t on London or even on the siege in Richmond.

Her heart ached as she pressed her fork into a piece of soft bread. If only there wasn’t a war. She could have invited Nathan to dinner along with the rest of their guests.

“Did you have any prisoners on your ships?” Hannah asked.

Lydia’s fork clattered once against her plate before she retrieved it. She didn’t dare look up, but she listened intently.

“We took twelve prisoners back in Newport News. And one traitor.” Lydia turned toward the officer on her left. He was a slight man with a prominent nose and greasy hair that looked as if it had been dyed black. His fork and mouth were both stuffed full of meat, but thankfully, he smelled like lye soap.