The Courier of Caswell Hall (14 page)

It was almost as if the colonists had been children for well over a century now, obeying a demanding parent who lived four thousand miles away, a royal father who grew stricter instead of more lenient as his wards aged.

Could it be time for the colonies to mature? Perhaps they
should
unite and make laws on their own.

She shook her head. She must stop thinking such thoughts. The very act of considering independence could be considered treason.

Her fireplace was blazing, but she still shivered, rubbing the cotton sleeves of her shift. Perhaps something hot to drink would warm her body and rest her mind. If Viney or one of the maids were in the kitchen, perhaps they could heat some cider or chocolate for her.

She wrapped her nightgown around her shift and then moved into the hall, eyeing the closed door of Major Reed’s chamber before she slipped down the main stairs. Then she took the much smaller staircase down to the basement. One of the maids was still cleaning and warmed up the cider for Lydia over the fire. Lydia sat in the dim kitchen by the remnants of the blaze, sipping her hot drink made of apple cider, nutmeg, and cinnamon.

The housemaid bid her good night, but Lydia didn’t move. She wanted privacy, but she didn’t want to return to her bedchamber. The kitchen was the perfect place for a respite.

Leaning against the counter, she enjoyed her drink until she heard footsteps behind her. At first she thought it was the maid returning but then realized they were much heavier steps, the steps of a man. Fear sparked in her for a moment, and she chided herself. There was nothing for her to be afraid of. This was her home, and Father made sure it protected both his wife and daughters.

Turning, she saw Major Reed walk into the room, and as he eyed her nightgown, a smile crept across his lips. “Good evening.”

She cringed and silently chided herself for leaving her room in this state of undress. “I thought you had retired to your room,” she said.

“I have come to find food.”

“There is plenty of food to be had. Take what you would like,” she said, though she suspected he didn’t need her permission to do so.

He moved closer to her. “Someone distracted me from eating enough at dinner.”

She was glad it was dark, for she didn’t want him to see her blush. “I fear you drank too much sherry tonight.”

His eyes studied her in a way that made her want to run, and yet she wasn’t sure what he would do if she fled. “I need not drink to know that you are beautiful.”

She took a sip of her cider and stood, trying to appear much calmer than she felt as she backed toward the door. He stepped toward her, and while he didn’t touch her, the way he surveyed her . . . Perhaps she should be flattered, but it frightened her instead.

“I remember when you came to visit London.”

She swallowed. “Do you?”

“You were twelve and already beautiful.”

The stale alcohol on his breath made her cough.

“How old were you?” she asked, stepping away again. If she kept him talking, perhaps he wouldn’t notice her moving backward.

“Fifteen.” He leaned against the wall, his legs crossed, as he continued to watch her. “We spent time in our gardens chasing the rabbits.”

An image began to form in her mind of a boy holding up a rabbit by the legs. She’d begged him not to hurt it. He’d let it go, but if she hadn’t begged him, she didn’t know what he would have done.

“I must go up to my chamber now, Major Reed.”

“You used to call me Dalton.”

“That was a long time ago.”

He stepped close to her again and she shuddered. He stood only a few inches taller than her, yet she knew he was much stronger. Would they hear her upstairs if she screamed?

His gaze on her face, he reached out and caressed the thin material on her sleeve. “You might call me Dalton again.”

She pulled her arm away, repeating her words. “It is time for me to return to my chamber.”

Instead of discouraging him, her refusal made his smile grow even wider, as if the quest was as pleasurable as the plunder. “There is no reason for you to rush.”

“But there is—”

He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. “I do not want to frighten you, Lydia.”

“Miss Caswell,” she said, hating herself for the tremble in her voice. “And I have already promised myself to another.”

His laugh was bitter. “The rebel.”

“I do not think of him as such.”

He pushed a strand of hair over her ear. “I’ll care for you much better than any rebel could.”

Lantern light filled the room, and she turned to see Elisha’s wide shoulders emerge from the shadows.

“Lady Caswell sent me for you, miss,” he said, his head bowed.

Major Reed took her arm. “I shall escort her upstairs.”

“Of course,” Elisha replied, but he didn’t move.

Lydia shook off the major’s grasp. “You haven’t eaten yet—”

“My appetite has changed.” He turned toward Elisha. “Leave us now.”

“But Lady Caswell—”

“Thank you, Elisha.” Lydia stepped closer to him, her heart warming. The major could have the slave whipped for his impertinence, and yet Elisha was willing to risk punishment to protect her. “You must take me to Lady Caswell’s chamber.”

Elisha followed her upstairs, and when they reached the second floor, he opened the door into the hall for her. “Lock your chamber door, Miss Lydia.”

Tears of gratitude filled her eyes as she thanked him again.

After devouring a large breakfast, Major Reed and two of his men escorted the family’s coach away from Caswell Hall. Mother sat on the leather seat beside Lydia, and she seemed just as eager to visit Williamsburg as Lydia. The officers had been with them more than a week now as they waited for General Cornwallis and his army to join them near Williamsburg.

The Caswell family had enough food at the plantation to see them through the rest of the winter, but Mother still insisted on going into town today to obtain tea and other supplies. It was an excuse, Lydia knew, for her to escape their overbearing guests.

Hannah had stayed in her room this morning, saying it was much too early for her to say good-bye. They all knew she was pouting. With Hannah’s tongue—and no muzzle—Father feared she would say something that might damage their family permanently.

A stream divided the land between the Caswell and Hammond plantations. On the other side of the water, Elisha stopped the horses.

“This is the end of the Caswell property,” he told the officers from his seat high on the coach.

Major Reed opened the door beside Lydia, and she shuddered. It seemed as if he wasn’t even bothered about his behavior—or her rejection—two nights ago, but she could never pretend it away. If Elisha hadn’t rescued her, her life might now be in ruins.

Instead of looking at Lydia, Major Reed addressed her mother. “The British are patrolling the forest between here and Williamsburg. I have given Elisha a letter describing your loyalty.”

She thought it odd that the major hadn’t mentioned the patrols to Father before they left home, but perhaps he wanted the tea and other
items Mother would find in town and feared that Lord Caswell wouldn’t permit the trip if he knew about the guards.

“Can you not escort us the entire way?” Mother asked.

He shook his head. “We have other duties we must fulfill today, but you will want to return home before the night falls.”

Mother clutched her beaded reticule in her gloved hands. “We won’t linger any longer than necessary.”

As their escorts galloped away, Lydia buried her hands in the warm folds of her cape and closed her eyes for a moment. Mother might be nervous, but relief washed over Lydia like a spring rain cleansing the ground. She felt a bit like a convict escaping jail—and her warden.

Caswell Hall, with its damask chairs, warm fires, and rich food, was hardly a prison, but this past week the house had been so crowded that she’d wanted to break free. Now that the kitchen was no longer a solace for her, her chamber was her only real escape. But the walls of her room felt as if they were closing upon her as well.

The snow had melted away, the ground swimming now with mud. The carriage wheels groaned and splashed through muck as the coach passed slowly under a canopy of barren elm trees. She didn’t particularly care how long it took them to ride into town. She hoped they would be gone all day.

Of course, they must shop without raising any suspicions about whom they were hosting at Caswell Hall. Some of their former friends still scorned her family because of Grandfather’s outspoken opposition against the rebellion. She didn’t think the rest of her family was threatened, at least not with physical harm. Father must not think it either, or he wouldn’t have let them go to town.

“Are you ready as I am for our guest to leave the house?” Mother asked.

Lydia nodded her head.

“Unfortunately, I do not believe your sister shares your sentiments.”

“That is because she does not know better,” Lydia said.

“Only by the grace of God . . .” Mother’s voice trailed off. In less than a mile, they had neared the lane to the Hammonds’ house.

Before the hostilities began, the Hammond and Caswell families had been not only neighbors but the best of friends, Lydia and Sarah almost
inseparable as girls. When Sarah lost her mother almost twenty years ago, Lydia’s mother had stepped up to help Mr. Hammond rear his only daughter, and Sarah spent more time at Caswell Hall than she did her own home.

But now Lydia saw Sarah only at church, and they rarely had the opportunity to speak together. Lydia knew Mother wanted to visit Sarah as well, but after Seth joined the Americans, the bond between their families crumbled.

Lydia looked over at her mother again. “Might we stop to visit Sarah?”

“There is much we need to do in town.” Mother hesitated. “And the major said not to linger.”

“Just for an hour, Mother, to see how she is. She is all alone there.”

As they drew closer to the Hammonds’ drive, Elisha slowed the team. The coach was enclosed by windows, so he couldn’t speak to them, but all Mother needed to do was open the window next to their seat and ask him to turn. If begging would work, Lydia would beg to visit Sarah, but she knew Mother wouldn’t be influenced by it.

Mother inched open the window, and cold air whisked into the coach. Lydia waited silently as she surveyed the pond beside them. Patches of ice mixed with pools of water. It wouldn’t be long, a few weeks maybe, before it began to melt. When they were younger, she and Grayson would meet Seth and Sarah for skating. How she missed those years, when they were free to enjoy their lives without worrying about war.

Mother cleared her throat and finally spoke. “Elisha, we would like to pay a short visit to Miss Hammond.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. Then he began humming as he turned the horses right.

Mother glanced over at Lydia. “We will not stay long.”

“Of course not.”

“And we had better not tell your father.”

Lydia nodded her head.

They passed through the forest, and on the other side of the trees, dozens of sheep and cattle roamed the sweet-clover fields that led up to the Hammond house and the buildings surrounding it. The white
plantation house overlooked the James River, and the windows were colored green by the Venetian blinds.

Lydia missed the days of skating and dancing, and she also missed the days when she used to call on Sarah as an excuse to catch a glimpse of Sarah’s older brother. Seth had come to their house as well, almost weekly, under the guise of visiting Grayson.

Both Sarah and Grayson accepted their role as conduits with good nature, and they played along. In those days, what seemed like a lifetime ago, she’d often wondered if Grayson might have had hopes of winning Sarah’s heart as well. Lydia never told her brother, but she’d entertained dreams of living in the Hammonds’ house with Seth and visiting Sarah and Grayson at Caswell Hall.

As Elisha helped them step down onto the drive, Mother asked him to wait with the coach since they wouldn’t be visiting long. Elisha tied the horses to a hitching post, but before she followed her mother up the steps, Lydia whispered to him to visit with his family.

Neither Lady Caswell nor Lydia rang the bell. Instead Sarah opened the door and engulfed Lydia in her arms. Her friend wore a pink kerchief around her neck and a creamy tan-colored gown. She was thinner than the last time Lydia had seen her, and with her pale blond hair and the yellow flecks in her green eyes, she reminded Lydia of a fairy who was more comfortable in the trees than cooped up in a house. The responsibilities her father had left for her must feel overwhelming.

After hugging Lydia, Sarah shook Mother’s hand. “I am so glad you have come for a visit.”

“Unfortunately, we cannot stay long,” Mother said. “We are on our way to Williamsburg to buy some supplies—”

“You must come in first and have some—tea.”

Lydia blinked, surprised. “You serve tea?”

“It is not nearly as good as real tea,” Sarah said, “but I hope it will give you a little refreshment.”

Lydia didn’t mention that they served real tea at Caswell Hall. Only those faithful to the king drank tea, but even then it was almost impossible to obtain.

“Please come in,” Sarah repeated.

Mother finally nodded, and Sarah motioned them toward her parlor.

Lydia and her mother sat across from her, on the black duvet where she and Seth used to talk about uniting Hammond Plantation and Caswell Hall. Where she used to dream of a houseful of children who would roam between the two plantations. She expected sadness to flood back with the memories, but all she felt was emptiness.

Lydia gave the slightest shake of her head as if it could erase the memories. She leaned forward. “How are you?”

Sarah’s smile fell. “I was fine, until someone stole our remaining horses.”

Lydia swallowed. “How many horses did they steal?”

“Six.”

She shuddered at the memory of the six horses the officers brought with them when they came to Caswell Hall. She had no facts, only speculation, but that speculation frightened her.