The Courier of Caswell Hall (40 page)

Three weeks ago, Cornwallis had surrendered at York. The Americans had yet to win their war, but they had won Virginia, and as the British retreated to New York, defeat seemed inevitable. Soon the colonists would rule themselves.

Father had resigned himself to the colonies’ independence. Without income to run their plantation, a return to England seemed like his only choice. Even if her parents decided to embrace the new country, the little money Father had made from his tobacco crop wouldn’t be enough to sustain the family for another year in Virginia. There was enough money, though, for passage for their family along with Prudence, Joshua, and Deborah. Once they reached England, Deborah would be promoted to a paid servant.

Tomorrow morning they would leave their beautiful home to journey to London. Her mother’s parents would welcome them, and Lydia imagined that the days to follow would be filled with various gatherings as they tried to piece back together their place in society.

Even though she’d declared her desire for freedom to her family, she would never tell them all she had done during the war. Nor would she ever expose what friends such as Mrs. Pendell and Dr. Cooper had done to support the Patriots’ cause. She’d become a keeper of secrets in the past months, and as they started a new life, her secrets must remain.

The dark clouds sparked again with light.

She should be excited about her prospects, but the country she loved, and the plantation where she belonged, was on this side of the Atlantic. She only wished her family would remain here as well.

Mother had resigned herself to Grayson’s departure—his final hug was the consolation she needed to leave for England. Hannah had returned to Caswell Hall more than a week ago. Once she discovered that Major Reed had no intention of taking her as a second wife—and once the British lost the battle at York—she’d decided that the tobacco fields offered more comforts than a camp of women following a defeated army into winter.

Lydia shuddered to think what would happen if rumors of Hannah’s indiscretion trailed them back to London. Father would do everything he could to prevent the rumor as they introduced her to society, but heaven forbid that she repeat her folly in London.

Thunder shook the gazebo as Lydia stepped inside it, and she pulled her shawl close around her shoulders.

In London, Father would be heralded as a hero for standing firm in his loyalty to King George, and the king would probably grant him land. If not, Mother’s parents had more than enough to support all of them. Lydia, however, hadn’t stood firm in her loyalties for the king, nor did she want to spend her life serving him.

She had no choice but to leave with her family, but how would she survive in London when her heart belonged here with Nathan? A hero. General Washington’s nephew. A Patriot heralded in the land she loved.

Her gaze wandered to the riverbank where she’d found him so many months ago, nearly drowned in the willows. The place where her life began a course she’d never imagined.

The formal good-bye she and Nathan shared at the Wythe home was the last time she had seen him, and no matter how much she’d allowed herself to hope in these past weeks, he had not returned to her. Thousands of wounded American and French troops remained in Williamsburg, but Washington and much of his army had traveled back toward New York. Nathan had likely gone with him. She had thought that perhaps he might care for her as she cared for him, but she had been the fool.

If nothing else, perhaps her heart would heal in London.

Lightning illuminated the gazebo again, and by the column, she saw a cane with a worn yellow ribbon tied around it.

She inhaled sharply. It looked like the cane Elisha had carved for Nathan. And the ribbon she had given him.

Her eyes squinted toward the dark gardens that led toward the river, her heart racing. There had been no cane here last night or the night before last. Someone had left it today.

Perhaps Nathan had come with another message for her.

Rain began to fall as she took the cane and hurried away from the gazebo toward the orangery.

Oh, that he had delivered the message in person instead of leaving it for her.

Her hand shook, wet locks of hair falling into her face as she took out the brick. There was an envelope inside, sealed with a stamp, and she hid the letter under her arm to protect it from the storm. There were no British officers left to find the letter now, but the rain could easily erase the message.

Opening the door to the orangery, she slipped inside and tossed her wet shawl onto a table. Dried vines hung from the rafters around her, and brown plants wilted in their pots along the counters. Raindrops pelted against the glass roof as she looped the crook of the cane over her wet sleeve and turned the letter over.

This message was addressed to her.

Thunder rattled the glass above her as she pressed into the seal with her fingernail, sliding it back and forth until it loosened. Then she waited for the lightning to read the simple note.

My dearest Lydia,
Will you dance with me?

Her heart quickened as she looked up and then slowly turned. And there, as if by a miracle, stood Nathan.

Her voice trembled as she spoke. “What are you doing here?”

“I have come to dance.”

“How did you know—?”

He brushed her wet hair back from her face. “Sarah once told me how much you love to dance.”

She lifted her arm. “What about your cane?”

He smiled down at her. “I do not need it anymore.”

He placed his wet cloak beside her shawl and offered her his hand.

When the light flashed again he drew her close to him, and warmth permeated her wet skin. The chill turned to fire as he guided their dance under the rafters, a symphony of harps and flutes and violins playing beautiful music in her mind.

He bowed to her, his hand still clutching hers as he spoke. “I met with Seth in Williamsburg.”

The music began to fade as she wondered what other secrets he’d kept from her. “You know Seth?”

“Aye. And I knew I could trust the woman he was to marry.”

“Seth and I will never marry.”

“I know,” he said as he pulled her close to him again.

This time he didn’t dance. This time he just held her in the shadows and she slowly melted into him. No longer must she fight what welled in her heart. This man cocooned around her, this man who fought the war for independence with intelligence, was the one she wanted to spend her life with.

Perhaps he had loved her for a long time. She thought she must have loved him since she found him with the blanket draped over his arm, pretending to be her servant.

Nathan leaned down to her, his breath warming her neck, her ear. “You rescued me, Lydia.”

She shook her head. He was the one who had rescued her.

“You saved my life,” he said again, stroking her hair. “And you helped us win this war.”

She looked up at him, his handsome face masked by the darkness. “You are exaggerating.”

“Because of your courage, General Washington has pledged to protect your plantation and your family.”

It was as she’d hoped, but her parents had already chosen a different road.

“My family is preparing to sail for England.”

“Can we convince your parents to change their minds?”

She thought of how Mother longed for England, of how Father refused to submit to a government he was convinced would fail. “I do not believe so.”

He kissed the top of her hair. “And what about you, Lydia?”

“What about me?”

“Can I convince you to change your mind?”

It felt as if she couldn’t breathe. “Perhaps.”

He stepped back, his hands clenching both of hers. The rain had stopped, and a glimmer of moonlight shone through the clouds. “Stay with me, Lydia.”

She wasn’t like Sarah. She would never run a plantation on her own, nor did she dream of traveling around the world. And yet she had taken risks these past months, more risks than she’d ever dreamed she would. Staying with him, with most of her family in London, would perhaps be the greatest risk of all.

A tremor of fear suddenly ran through her. He’d asked her to stay in Virginia, not to marry him. Nathan’s position in this war had been based on deceit. Perhaps he, like Major Reed, had a wife somewhere else.

He squeezed her hands again. “Lydia?”

“There must be no more deception between us.”

He nodded his head slowly. “I pray neither of us must ever deceive again.”

“Have you ever married”—she paused—“or promised to marry another?”

He held her with his gaze. “Never.”

Her shoulders relaxed. He had always trusted her. She would trust him as well. “I cannot simply—
stay
with you.”

“I did not mean
stay
, I meant—” He sighed. “I am making a mess of this.”

Her heart quickened again.

“Lydia, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She smiled, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face to hers. His kiss warmed her to her toes.

Now he smiled at her. “Does that mean you will marry me?”

The rain started again. “I will.”

He lifted her up and twirled her around.

“Be careful of your leg.”

He was grinning when he set her down. “See how much I need you?”

“I do not really know anything about you, Nathan.” She paused. “I do not even know your last name.”

He bowed again. “I am Nathan Washington Lewis, former business manager and spy. My mother is Betty Lewis, the younger sister of George Washington, and my father is deceased. My father was a planter, and he sent me to Yale for school.”

She laughed and curtsied. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Lewis.”

He took her hand in his. “And I am about to marry the loveliest lady in all of Virginia.”

“Then I suppose I haven’t a chance.”

He grinned. “It is too late for you to change your mind now.”

The war for the colonies might not yet be finished, but this man in front of her, Nathan Washington Lewis, had won her heart.

“And it is too late for you to change yours.”

He pulled her close to him again. “I will never change my mind about you.”

Nathan’s eyes fluttered open, and Lydia reached for her husband’s hand. The fragrance of garden flowers sweetened the light breeze as it cooled the back portico of Caswell Hall. Nathan lay on the bed their grandchildren had made for him outside.

The house behind her could tell hundreds of stories, but Lydia loved the people who’d lived with her there much more than she loved the building. Most of all, she loved her husband.

Forty-four years of marriage, and they’d been together every night but one, the night of the great snowstorm. The president at the time—Thomas Jefferson—had called for Nathan, and he’d gone without her since she was about to birth their second child. After missing Micah’s birth, he vowed never to miss the birth of any of their other children, and he had kept his promise.

A host of people circled her and Nathan. Six of their eight children who had survived to adulthood stood on the portico along with fifteen of their grandchildren and four great-grandchildren, as well. She sometimes mixed up the names of her great-grandchildren, but Nathan never did.

Their oldest grandson brought hot tea to his grandfather. Even though the July temperatures were hot, Nathan couldn’t seem to get warm. It reminded her of that night so long ago when she’d found him half-frozen on the riverbank. He might not remember much about that night, but she would never forget. It was ironic that she was now the one to use the cane Elisha had carved, but it was a constant reminder to her of new beginnings and her husband’s love.

The night Nathan remembered most fondly was the night they’d danced in the orangery, the night she’d agreed to become his wife. They’d
rushed up to this house after the storm passed and surprised her parents. She had been just as surprised when she discovered they already knew Nathan. She hadn’t requested permission to marry him, but Father gave it anyway. When he found out that General Washington had personally given his pledge to protect Caswell Hall, Father asked her and Nathan to care well for his plantation.

For almost fifty years, her husband had cared for their home, his country, and his family. Before they married, he told her he would never purchase a slave, and he never did, hiring field workers and servants to work with them instead. He’d served as a Virginia senator until he agreed to become the young nation’s secretary of state. Lydia had traveled with him to England and France and the West Indies, and whenever they went, she thought of Sarah, her sister, sailing with her.

In 1785 Mistress Reed died of a mysterious illness, and Hannah became the official wife of Major Reed. Mother wrote Lydia of the marriage, and it grieved her heart. Lydia visited her parents once on their estate outside of London, and Mother seemed content in loving the Reeds’ three children. Hannah died in 1802—at the age of thirty-six—and Lady Caswell died soon after. Lord Caswell remarried and lived until 1811.

Grayson never married again. He and Commodore Hammond started a shipping company near Seth’s plantation in Maryland, and it quickly became the most profitable shipping company in the colonies. For Elisha’s service with the Continental Army, General Washington freed him from slavery, and Commodore Hammond freed Morah and Alden. Even with their papers, Elisha didn’t want to remain in the United States of America. He and Morah took the last name of Hammond and, with Grayson’s help, purchased land in Canada. Through the years, Lydia corresponded with Morah and then with Sarah Hammond—Elisha and Morah’s youngest daughter—as she ran her father’s successful plantation, harvesting wheat for Hammond and Porter Shipping Company.

Seth’s oldest son, John, came back in 1809 to take over the Hammond plantation. He built a home even larger than Caswell Hall, and then he married Dotty, Lydia’s and Nathan’s second daughter. Glancing over at John Hammond and the grandchild in her daughter’s arms, Lydia
smiled. God had redeemed their families and reunited them. Any animosity that lingered from the past had been obliterated by love.