Just Jane (14 page)

“Thank you, no, Mrs. Prentice. 1 cannot tarry long. We are contacting as many Loyalists as possible today, and we have much ground to cover.”

“You may be sure of our loyalty,” Robert declared stoutly. “I hope to meet General Clinton very soon, and to serve in any way possible.”

“I am gratified to hear it, sir. I have just seen Mr. Lambert, who told me much the same. Most admirable, for a Frenchman, his own countrymen being allied with the American rebels. Would you say he's trustworthy?”

“Absolutely trustworthy, I assure you,” Robert replied. “His forebears were Protestants, driven out of Catholic France by religious persecution. And now, Captain, if I may suggest a way I might be of service?”

“By all means.”

“I gladly offer Rosewall to General Clinton as a base of operations in this area. When Charlestown falls, rebel uprisings in the backcountry will surely follow. In that event, the protection of our massive wall should prove immensely useful, and we can provide ample victuals of the finest quality.”

“Quite so, and many thanks to you. Should action develop out here, the general will remember your offer. In the meantime, we ask all Loyalists not to venture into Charlestown until the surroundings have been secured.”

“You may rely on us, Captain,” Robert vowed. “And, of course, we wish you all success.”

“Thank you.” The two men shook hands, then Fleming was eager to be off. “Mrs. Prentice? Lady Jane?” He gave them another low bow. “It's been a great pleasure. I hope that as soon as Charlestown is safely back in British hands, we may meet again.”

“Perhaps we can receive you at our house there, Captain Fleming,” Clarissa said with her sweetest smile.

“A delightful prospect,” he replied, and he gave Jane a lingering look as he added, “especially if Lady Jane will be there.”

For an instant, Jane considered advising the young man that she preferred not to be called Lady Jane. But that wouldn't do. “I'll be there, Captain.”

“Excellent! Good day to you all, then.” Captain Fleming and his soldiers departed in a flurry of pounding hooves.

“Attractive young man,” Clarissa remarked. “Don't you think, Jane? He certainly found you attractive.”

“Splendid fellow, the cream of English manhood!” Robert exclaimed as he secured the gate.

“However, Robert . . .” Clarissa looked troubled now. “I do hope the general won't accept your reckless offer. I don't relish the thought of my gardens being trampled by an encampment of soldiers.”

Robert took her hand as they walked back to the house. “My dear, more important things are at stake here than gardens. History's being made . . .”

Jane heard no more.
When Charlestown falls
, her uncle had said. Not
if. When
. And Captain Fleming looked forward to meeting them at their house in town soon. They seemed so confident, so certain. Yet it was with a curious feeling of uneasiness that Jane turned back to the roses.

 

After weeks of merciless bombardment, Charlestown in May 1780 was so short of food that starvation loomed as the people's primary enemy. Exhaustion finally forced rebel defenders to bow to the overwhelmingly superior force. At eleven o'clock in the morning of May 12, the rebels marched out, sullen, still defiant in their hearts, but beaten. They stacked their weapons in surrender. It was one of the Americans' costliest defeats of the entire war.

News of the siege had reached Rosewall in the usual fragments—truth and rumor hopelessly mixed. Many nights, Robert paced the floor for hours, desperate for information. And many nights, Jane lay sleepless, worrying about those she cared about in the besieged city. She was tormented at being so safe while they were in such danger.

The day after the surrender, Louis Lambert banged on the Rosewall gate and rushed excitedly past Omar and into the house with the news. An elated Robert called for his finest champagne. He and the usually dour Louis celebrated at the dining room table late into the night, toasting King George, the victorious Redcoats, the return of lawful British rule, their wives, each other—anything they could think of—until the house rang with their drunken laughter.

Jane retired early, thankful that the waiting was finally over. At last, they could return to the city. She could find out how people had fared, and perhaps even find a way to help. The thought comforted her as she listened to the revelry downstairs.

She never even stopped to notice that she herself, a daughter of old England, felt in no mood to celebrate.

 

 

 

 

With the greatest pleasure I further report . . . that the inhabitants from every quarter repair to . . . this garrison [Charlestown] to declare their allegiance to the King . . . there are few men in South Carolina who are not either our prisoners or in arms with us
.

 

—from General Henry Clinton's “Report on the Submission of South Carolina,” June 1780

 

General Clinton's optimistic report was considerably exaggerated. In fact, barely two hundred people had come out to greet the victorious British as they marched into a city near collapse from weeks of bombardment. The streets, which normally would have rung with the cries of peddlers and the clatter of carriages, were almost deserted. All was quiet. But the calm surface concealed a smoldering reservoir of defiance.

Returning to the city, the Prentices found their Legare Street house again vandalized, greatly angering Robert. The Ainsleys' home had been taken over by British soldiers, profoundly upsetting Jane. The Ainsleys had retired to Harriet's family home at Goose Creek. And Arthur, tainted by his association with known rebel leaders, was now officially a prisoner on parole.

“Be thankful they didn't clap him in irons in the Exchange Cellars as a traitor!” was all Robert had to say.

Jane walked over to Hugh's shop on Queen Street, but found it all boarded up. When she asked around the neighborhood, everyone eyed her suspiciously, claiming to know nothing about Hugh the cabinetmaker. She returned home in a cloud of gloom to find two guests in the parlor with Robert and Clarissa—Brandon, paying one of his brief periodic visits, and Captain Richard Fleming. They were savoring a pot of genuine English tea—a rare and precious commodity—that Fleming had brought as a gift. Both young men rose as Jane entered, each trying to outdo the other's show of gallantry. Brandon was fairly bursting with what he evidently considered to be the day's most important news.

“Jane! Captain Fleming's going to see about getting me a commission in the Loyalist militia. Soon I could be Lieutenant Ainsley!”

“How nice, Brandon.” Jane sincerely tried to sound pleased. She was much more interested when Clarissa said, “Captain Fleming is working with the Board of Police, in charge of military security in the city. He's promised to look into Arthur's situation for us.”

“That's very good of you, Captain Fleming,” Jane said, brightening. “Needless to say, we'd be terribly grateful.”

“Not at all, Lady Jane. I'm glad to be of service if I can. And I'd be honored if you'd call me Richard.”

She nodded. “Very well—Richard it is. And as long as we're on that subject, I prefer not to be called Lady Jane. Just Jane will be fine.”

This brought a protest from Robert. “My dear! You're the daughter of an English earl, and as such—”

“Nevertheless,
Jane
you shall be to me!” Richard intervened, smiling. “I shall endeavor in all things to please you, Jane.”

“About my brother, Richard,” Clarissa coaxed.

Richard took a long sip of tea, then said, “Contrary to widespread opinion, we are not bent on vengeance here. We want only to bring all citizens of this colony back under the protection of their rightful king. Even the rebel militiamen have been released on parole—as long as they remain on good behavior, of course.”

Jane breathed a sigh of relief, thinking of Peter Quincy.

“But prominent citizens like Mr. Ainsley, who may have influenced many to join the rebel movement, must be held accountable to some extent. I understand their so-called president, Rutledge, fled the colony in panic. Evidently your brother is made of sterner stuff, Mrs. Prentice.”

“Or more obstinate stuff,” Brandon muttered.

“However, his situation is not hopeless,” Fleming went on. “Mr. Ainsley should immediately sign the Oath of Allegiance, stating, ‘I do acknowledge and declare myself to be a true and faithful subject of the King of Great Britain, and I will at all times hereafter be obedient to his government'—and so on. Perfectly reasonable, I'm sure you'll agree.”

“Perfectly,” Robert concurred. “My name is high among those who have gladly signed.”

“So it is, sir. Unfortunately, Mr. Ainsley's has not yet appeared.”

“Perhaps I could persuade him to—” Clarissa began.

“I wouldn't go to him, Mrs. Prentice.” Richard shook his head. “You have your husband's position as a loyal king's man to consider. If you were seen contacting someone who's under suspicion—”

“But he's my brother!”

“I realize that, but do keep your distance. You could write to him, urging him to see the error of his ways. Meanwhile, be assured, dear lady, whatever can be done on your brother's behalf will be done.”

“Thank you so much, Richard.”

A few minutes later, Brandon announced that he had another appointment, and after taking leave of the others, asked Jane to walk outside with him.

Once they were outside, he turned to her with a troubled frown. “Be careful of Fleming, Jane. I fear he has designs on you.”

“Brandon, you're not my guardian! I've got Uncle Robert for that, thank you, and I don't need instruction from you, too.”

Brandon was taken aback but quickly recovered. “Very well, but I'm going to check on you often.”

“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug. “Now, there's something I want to ask you. Have you seen your parents since the occupation began?”

“Ah, now it seems
you're
trying to be
my
guardian.”

“I'm concerned about your parents, Brandon. Aren't you?”

“Of course I am. But Fleming told me the same thing he told Aunt Clarissa. If I want that commission, I'd better stay away from them.”

“And you put that ahead of your parents! I'm disappointed in you.

Suddenly he was smiling indulgently as he took her hand. “Do not despair of me, my sweet. Imperfect as I may be, after we're married I shall be putty in your hands, and you shall make me over to your liking.” After planting his customary peck on her cheek, he went on his way, Jane shaking her head ruefully as she watched him go.

Richard was just leaving, too. “Duty calls,” he told Jane.

She stared coolly at him. “Tell me, Captain Fleming, do you have a family in England?”

“Yes, indeed, quite a large one.”

“Then how can you be so indifferent to family ties, telling Brandon he must stay away from his parents, my aunt away from her brother?”

“It's for their own good, Jane, and that of everyone concerned, I assure you.” He took a step closer. “And if you persist in calling me Captain Fleming, I shall be obliged to call you Lady Jane.”

No use in this
, Jane thought. “Good-bye, then, Richard. It was nice seeing you again.”

“Your aunt and uncle have urged me to come often. I said I would, but I really meant only if
you'd
like me to.”

“Of course,” she replied politely. “I'll be happy to see you again. Anytime.”

“Then you most certainly will.” He departed with a bright smile and a crisp military nod. Jane watched him disappear from view, fervently hoping that he meant it when he promised to interest himself in Arthur's situation. She decided she would bring it up with him every chance she got.

 

She was working at her writing desk when Clarissa appeared in the doorway. “May I have a moment, Jane?”

“Of course, Aunt Clarissa.” Jane covered her paper. It was only an amateurish attempt at a poem, but she didn't need Clarissa reading it.

Her aunt sat down on the edge of the bed. “I'm sure you realize how fortunate we are to have Captain Fleming for a friend,” she began. “Particularly with regard to Arthur. If Richard intervenes on his behalf, it could make all the difference.”

“I'm sure it could,” Jane agreed.

“There's Brandon's commission, and Richard's also promised to see if he can introduce Robert to General Clinton. He can be enormously helpful to us in many ways—if he's so inclined.”

“So it would seem.”

“And the way I see it, that puts an important responsibility on
you.”

Jane blinked. “On me? I'm sorry, I don't quite follow.”

“Oh, come now—surely you've noticed how attracted to you Richard is. I might even be a tiny bit envious.”

“What on earth can you mean?”

“Isn't it obvious? Richard's interest in this family consists entirely of his interest in you. Therefore, it's of the utmost importance that you should—how shall I say it?—be
very
nice to him.”

Jane stared, aghast. “Are you asking me to pretend that I care for Captain Fleming—to
deceive
him?”

“Oh, let's not put it quite that way. For all we know, you might develop genuine feelings for him. That would be lovely, and he'd make a fine catch. But no, I wouldn't ask you to spoil your arrangement with Brandon. Just keep Richard interested by letting him believe he might have a chance with you.”

“Really, Aunt Clarissa, you do amaze me with your scheming!”

Clarissa smiled a superior smile. “We women have few tools at our disposal, Jane. Fortunately, we do have the ability to scheme, and we also have the ability to attract men. You have plenty of that. You just haven't learned how to use it. But very often it's the only way to entice our menfolk into helping us turn our schemes into reality.”