Lavender Lies (Historical Romance) (2 page)

Now his breathing was labored, and he was having trouble focusing his eyes. Seeing this, Lavender protested. "I cannot leave you now, Papa. How can you ask it of me?"

"I do not ask it of you, Daughter," he whispered. "I demand it of you! Many lives depend on what you do tonight. Now heed me well. When you get to Yorktown, go to the Swan Tavern." He paused to catch his breath. "Sit at the table nearest the fire and turn an ale mug upside down and wait. When someone comes up and asked, 'What flower blooms in the winter'? you will know you made contact, and you will answer, 'The cactus blooms in the desert.' I must stress the importance of the password. If it is not given, do not turn over the document."

"What do I do then, Papa? Tell me quickly because I must leave before Aunt Amelia gets here or she will not allow me to go."

"Let me take care of your aunt." He smiled slightly then continued. "If the man is the contact, give him the packet and then return here at once. I must stress caution, Lavender. What you do is dangerous. If I were not desperate, I would never allow you to go. Can I trust you, girl?"

Her eyes burned with conviction. "You can trust me, Papa. I will not let you down." She placed her hand against his cheek. "I can follow your direction, but first you must promise that you will rest."

His eyes softened. "I haven't been much of a father to you, have I, Lavender? I like to think things would have been different if your mother had lived. Has it been so difficult for you living with my sister?"

Lavender longed for some sign of love from her father, but he had never been one to show his feelings, and in that he was not unlike his sister Amelia. It seemed to be a family trait. "I have missed you and Chandler, and of course Mama."

He closed his eyes and motioned her away. "You must leave straightaway. Allow nothing to detain you— Go now!"

Lavender did not want to leave her father, knowing he could die while she was away, but she realized he would not rest unless she did as he asked. Reluctantly she gathered up his cloak and felt something bulky in the lining. "I will be back as soon as I am able, Papa," she said before moving out the door and down the hall to the stairs.

Moments after Lavender had gone, Amelia Daymond entered the bedroom. Her face was grim when she looked upon her brother's ashen face. Amelia had never married, and was a woman of strong temperament who could look after herself. She was accustomed to taking charge, and she did so now. As Lavender moved down the stairs, she could hear her aunt's voice, and she knew that her father was in capable hands.

"Well, Sam, you have really muddled it now, have you not?" Amelia pulled his bloodstained shirt aside and stared at the gaping wound in his chest. "You have really gotten into a situation this time. If Doctor Gait has his way, he'll want to bleed you, and it looks like you have lost enough blood already. You will fare better if I see to your needs."

Grotesque shadows danced on the wall of her aunt's sewing room when Lavender lit a candle and moved across the threadbare rug. She quickly located a box of clothing and rummaged through it until she found what she wanted. The ladies in her aunt Amelia's sewing circle were making new uniforms for the Virginia Militia, and Lavender hoped she could find a uniform that would fit her. Hastily she pulled on a pair of buff trousers, a rough linen shirt, and a green velvet jacket. There were several cocked hats in the box. Lavender chose one that seemed to fit and placed it on her head. Now the uniform was complete except for boots. She glanced down at her black leather slippers, hoping no one would notice them. She had no time to worry about the fact that it was unladylike to dress in male attire. She could only imagine what her aunt would say if she saw her. Well, she certainly couldn't go into a tavern late at night dressed as a girl. She knew if she allowed herself to think about her situation she might panic.

She took a deep breath and moved to the hallway where she removed her cloak from the coat rack, and placed the documents in the inside pocket before fastening it about her shoulders. Lavender knew that time was of the utmost importance, so she dashed for the front door, mindful that the clock had just struck one. So much had occurred within one short hour—her whole world had tilted crazily.

The stable door creaked on its hinges as Lavender made her way to the darkened stall where her gray mare was kept. Not bothering to light a lantern, she realized she couldn't ride sidesaddle if she wanted to be accepted as a young soldier. She felt her way along the railing until she found the saddle Jackson always used. As she was tightening the cinch, she was startled by a shadow that moved between her and the moonlight streaming through the opened door. She had expected to see Jackson standing there, and was speechless when she recognized her father's bond servant, Nicodemus.

Nicodemus had been in her father's service for as long as Lavender could remember. He was a small, wiry man, with a rugged face and a ready smile. She had not seen him since her father had brought her to live with her aunt.

"I got here as quickly as I could. I had to pull the redcoats away from your papa. It took a bit longer to lose them than I thought it would." A sincere look of concern etched the deep planes of Nicodemus's face. "Was your father badly hurt?"

"Yes, I fear for him, Nicodemus."

The bond servant moved closer and studied Lavender's face in the half-light. "Your father has asked you to make the delivery, hasn't he?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I know him very well. There's nothing that can come between him and his duty. I guessed that if he couldn't go himself, he'd send you. I sort'a wished he wouldn't get you involved in all this. Why don't you let me go in your stead?"

Lavender would have liked nothing better than to turn the whole thing over to Nicodemus, but she couldn't. "No, I gave Papa my word I would see it through. He was most insistent that I do this."

"Your pa can be a very stubborn man when he wants something done. I have found its best to humor him at these times."

Nicodemus lifted Lavender onto the mare's back and handed her the reins. When he would have pulled away, Lavender caught his hand. "Papa has told me that Chandler may be . .. dead. Do you think he is?"

"No. That boy's too slippery to be caught by the enemy. I always say to your father that Chandler is wherever the fighting is the thickest. He'll come home when he's good and ready, and not a day before."

"I would like to believe that," Lavender sighed.

"We best be off now, miss. We got a piece to go, and we want to get there before sunup."

"
We
?"

"Of course
we
. You don't think I would let you go alone, do you?" He led her aunt's horse out of a stall and quickly threw a saddle across the animal's back. "I'll just take the liberty of borrowing this little mare. My horse is spent, and I doubt he could go another mile, let alone all the way to Yorktown. I hope you don't mind."

Lavender smiled gratefully at the little man. "No, I don't mind at all, Nicodemus."

As they rode out of the stable, their horses' hooves were muted by the deep snow. When they galloped down Queen Street, a dark wind sent winter's cruel fury to slow their progress. Snow swirled about them, stinging their faces and blinding the view. Onward they rode into the night, ever conscious of the danger they would face if they were caught by the British.

Lavender tried to clear her mind and not think about her father and brother. She had been entrusted with a mission that her father thought vitally important, and she would see it through to the end. She knew they must be cautious because the country was crawling with Americans who still supported the king and his parliament. If she were caught, she could be arrested for treason, and even the fact that she was female would not save her from a death sentence.

The Swan Tavern was dimly lit when Lavender and Nicodemus entered. Still, a cheerful fire burned in the hearth to welcome travelers, and a jovial landlord bid them sit by the fire to warm themselves.

"It ain't a fit night out for man or beast," the portly innkeeper observed, his eyes almost invisible beneath bushy eyebrows. "I didn't expect many travelers being that it's the Yuletide season." He looked Lavender over and guessed her to be a young lad from a good family because of the new uniform.

"My name is Angus McCree, the owner of the Swan Tavern. Will you be wanting lodgings for the night?" The landlord directed his inquiries to the young soldier, paying small heed to the manservant who hung back in the shadows.

Lavender shook her head and pulled the cap lower over her forehead. "No," she answered, making her voice as deep as possible. "I would be most grateful if my servant and I could just have a glass of ale and be allowed to rest before your warm fire. We have traveled far and still have a way to go." She could feel the document inside her pocket, and she wished she could deliver it and leave at once. A sweeping glance of the room told her that her contact was not present, for the taproom was empty.

"It would be better if you was to stay until the snow eases a bit, young sir. Right now, the storm don't show no sign of letting up, and the night's mostly spent as it is," the landlord reasoned, not willing to let payment for a night's lodging escape him so easily.

"No, I cannot stay since I am expected elsewhere. As you pointed out, this is Christmas."

Suspicion gleamed in the man's eyes. There were strange happenings afoot tonight, and he had learned long ago that one couldn't tell a man's loyalties by the uniform he wore. There were spies on both sides. He had decided that only a desperate man would be out on such a night. "Please yourself. As for me, I wouldn't be out on a night like this for any reason."

Lavender sat down at the table and watched the landlord amble away. Nicodemus seated himself near the door, his eyes ever watchful; his hand close to the pistol that was poked in his belt. Lavender's eyes darted about the room, and she wondered if her father had been mistaken about the rendezvous point, or perhaps her contact had already come and gone, thinking no one would appear tonight.

By now the landlord had returned and placed a mug of ale and a platter of food before Lavender. "I brought you something to eat. You can eat it or not, but you're a skinny lad and to my way of thinking need fattening up. I'll see that your man gets something to eat as well."

Lavender nodded. "Thank you." She stared at the glass of ale, wondering how she could turn it upside down when it was full of ale, as her father had instructed her. She had never in her life drunk strong spirits. What was she to do?

She glanced at Nicodemus for direction, but his eyes were on the door. She waited for the landlord to leave the room, then picked up the mug and tossed the contents into the fireplace. The flames hissed and sputtered as she sat down and turned the mug upside down on the table. Nervous and agitated, Lavender wondered if she and Nicodemus should leave. Surely no one would be coming out in this storm.

Suddenly the door opened and a man entered in a swirl of blowing snow. Lavender was so frightened that she lowered her head and pretended not to notice the man. Her heart was beating fast when she heard his footsteps approaching her as he sought the warmth of the fire. When she could stand it no longer, she glanced to find the man closely scrutinizing her.

He was dressed in gray from the tip of his cocked hat to the cape that reached to the floor. His face was hard and his eyes cold. It was difficult to tell the man's age, but Lavender guessed him to be about her father's age.

"I expected your father to meet me here, Chandler. What happened?" The newcomer's voice had a slight edge to it, as if he were irritated. He had mistaken Lavender for her twin brother, so he must be the man she was supposed to meet. She remembered her father's warning not to turn the document over to anyone unless they gave her the password, so she decided it would be best to do exactly as she had been instructed.

"I do not know you, sir. You have mistaken me for someone else."

The man looked astonished for a moment. His eyes narrowed, and she was sure there was an angry twist to his lips. "It is not I who have made the mistake. I have seen a drawing of you, young Chandler Daymond. Do you not know you and your father's exploits have become well known?"

Lavender felt great trepidation in her heart. Something was not right here. The man had not given the password. Her father had been most insistent that the password be given before the document was turned over. "As I said, sir, you are mistaken. I am not the man you call Chandler."

He ignored her denial. "Do you have something for me?" His eyes were cool, almost hostile, and Lavender knew the meaning of real fear.

She glanced at Nicodemus and saw that his hand was resting on his pistol. Surely he would protect her from this man. "I.. . don't know what you are talking about," she answered in a trembling voice.

In one long stride the sinister man was at her side. Before she could react, he jerked her to her feet and spun her around in an armlock. A pistol appeared from the folds of his cape and he aimed it at her head. "To interfere would be foolhardy, bond servant. I have heard about your loyalty to this family, but I do not think you are prepared to die just to prove that loyalty. Instruct your young charge to turn over the documents, or I shall take them off his dead body?"

Nicodemus's eyes darkened with anger. "If you harm one hair on Lav— on his head, you will not live to see the morning sun." The threat hung in the air as the landlord entered the room, carrying a tray of food and ale.