Midnight (6 page)

“Don’t be disrespectful, child. The general shows his appreciation in other ways. Add these coins to the safe.” He placed a small leather pouch on the table and walked out.

Faith opened the bag. The pile of sovereigns inside widened her eyes. Grabbing it up, she went after him. “What is this for?”

“Bills.”

“I mean why would he pay you such a large sum?”

“For the good service, of course.”

She swore he looked evasive. “Are you certain?”

“What other reason would there be? Now go put it in the safe like I asked.”

So she did, but not without wondering why he’d looked the way he had in response to her question. Many of the homes and inns in the area had been forced to house British troops with no compensation to the owners. To the people of Boston the foisting had come to be known as one of the Intolerable Acts. The general and his aides had been taking meals at the inn for months now, but Faith never remembered them paying her father so much as a farthing, so why now? Closing the safe, she supposed her suspicions were simply a product of the times.

T
he sun had just risen when Nicholas breached the surface of the ice-cold creek and shook the water from his face and head. Shivering, he strode naked up the bank and quickly wrapped himself in the warmth of the thick pelt blanket before pushing his bare feet into the worn deer-hide moccasins. Looking like an Iroquois in winter, he made his way through the forest and silently covered the short distance across his fields to the house. Inside, he stood by the fire and warmed himself. Although the creek had been running with the first melting of spring, the frigid temperature was invigorating; not only did it erase the sluggish remnants of sleep, it left his thinking sharp and clear. The early morning ritual was one of the many ways he’d been changed by living inside the Iroquois Confederation. At first, their way of life had seemed strange to a young man whose entire world had consisted of his father’s farm and the surrounding environs, but the longer he lived with them, the more he saw the world through their eyes, and the more he came to appreciate their ways and beliefs.

Living the smuggler’s life had changed him as well; hardening him, making him more cynical and more apt not to care about the consequences of his actions. He’d enjoyed the danger, the meetings in back rooms, the working of a deal. He’d made friends and enemies, and enjoyed women in port cities all over the world, and now? Coming back to live in polite society had him thinking about what he wanted to do with the remainder of his life. The money he had stashed away in banks in Philadelphia, London, and Montreal made working for a living unnecessary, yet he was not the type to sit idly by until the time came to be buried next to his parents. He needed purpose; always had. It was something he’d put his mind to once the quest to avenge his father was laid to rest, but not until then.

Warmer now, Nicholas dressed and sat down to a simple meal of bark tea, strips of dried pemmican, and a skillet of eggs. He thought about the reception he and Blythe had planned. Her offer to compile a list of potential wives wasn’t something he’d dismissed out of hand, but he doubted anything would come of it. He supposed he owed it to his father to do what he could to ensure the Grey name survived, so he spent a few moments imagining himself spending the rest of his life as a farmer and married to a boring woman, and he frowned. If he did decide to marry he’d be more inclined to marry someone like Faith Kingston, whose wit and fire would at least keep him awake. With that in mind, he wondered if her father would forbid her to help with the reception. He hoped not because the more he was around her, the more she intrigued him, in spite of the fact that she wasn’t the woman for him. He was supposed to meet her today to go over the food selections. Seeing her again was something he was looking forward to. A knock at his door caught his attention.

When he opened it, he found Prince Hall standing on the threshold. “Morning, Nicholas. Did you forget that we are drilling today?”

He lied, “No, but where are the others?”

“They’ll be arriving shortly.

Nick invited him in. His meeting with the beguiling Faith Kingston would have to wait.

Just as he was about to close the door, a young man driving a wagon pulled up and called out to Nicholas. “You Nick Grey?”

“Yes.”

“Got a letter for you.”

A curious Nick walked out and took the letter. He give the driver a few coins for his trouble and as the man departed, Nick opened the black ribbon holding the missive closed. What he read inside made him smile.

A
fter informing her father that she was going to visit Blythe, but would be back in time to prepare the late afternoon meal, Faith hurried outside to their small stable to hook their old mare, Susie, to the front of the flatbed wagon. Once everything was in order, she drove away.

The sun was shining brightly out of a blue sky as she traveled down the slushy Concord Road. Although the temperature was still cold enough to need her heavy cape, the breeze held the warm promise of spring. The month of April was only two weeks away, and once spring arrived in earnest everyone could shake off the isolation forced on them since mid November. There would be outdoor gatherings at the church again. The benevolent societies could be more active in their efforts to keep the race rising through their work with children, the poor, and the elderly. There would be parades—if the British allowed them—lobster bakes, and fishing, one of her favorite pastimes. In fact, if there was time and the fates were kind, she hoped to catch a few fish for dinner later that day. After months of dried, salted, or smoked meat, something fresh caught would be a godsend.

Since she had to pass the Trotter house, she decided to stop in and pay them a visit, but no one was home, so Faith drove Susie to the next side road that led to Blythe’s. It was muddy going. Susie didn’t like the slop but Faith urged her to keep moving so that the wagon wouldn’t get stuck.

Knocks at Blythe’s door went unanswered as well. Sighing with frustration, she supposed she’d have to hold on to Gage’s words until she reached her, but she prayed the general didn’t implement his plans early. Faith reached into the pocket of her cloak and withdrew the white quartz stone she always used a signal when she needed to speak with Blythe. Placing it at the base of the front door, she climbed back up into the wagon and drove away.

Her next destination was the creek that flowed through Primus’s property. When he was alive he hadn’t minded her fishing there. She doubted Nicholas would mind, either, but in a way, she was hoping he wasn’t at home. She had no idea how to handle a man like him, not that she had experience handling any man, but something about him made her very aware of how much she didn’t know about the games men and women played. The few suitors she’d had in her life had run screaming for the door once they took her measure, and as she told Nicholas the night on the road, many men didn’t appreciate a woman of intelligence. They wanted to do her thinking for her and very few acknowledged that a woman had a mind at all. It was one of the reasons she couldn’t abide Will Case. He was pompous enough to believe himself capable of thinking circles around anyone, especially a woman, and had grumbled on numerous occasions that her father had wasted his money by educating her. But Faith knew he was wrong. She didn’t have much fun or happiness or variety in her life, but without her precious books, she would just be existing. At least the Bard offered her stories of lives filled with adventure, pathos, and comedy; stories she could lose herself in and forget about having to work each day from dawn to dark in the service of her father and his needs. Many mothers of eligible daughters thought Will Case quite the catch. Faith would rather catch fish.

Chapter 6

W
hen she reached Primus’s land, she turned on to the property. Straight ahead, the big, white, two-story house with its welcoming porch sat like a queen in the sunlight. The drive was a muddy quagmire of melted snow, dirt, and gravel. Although there were a number of other wheel marks and hoof prints in the drive she didn’t see any other vehicles or horses tied up at the post near the house. She knew Nicholas had just moved back so maybe the tracks were from recent visitors or deliveries.

Her bad luck held. No one answered her knock. Slogging through the mud with her hems held above the muck, she went around to the back and saw nothing but the barns, the open fields, and the thick stand of trees that encircled the open land. As a matter of courtesy she’d wanted to make certain he had no objections to her being on his land, but seeing as he wasn’t at home, she shrugged. Walking back to the wagon, she climbed up and guided Susie over to the tether post. After retrieving the bucket that held her fishing gear, she got down again, secured the horse’s reins, and began the long trek to the creek.

A large stand of pines flanked the open fields, and the creek lay behind them. Once inside the cover of the trees, she could hear birds alerting their neighbors to her presence and she had to watch her step to keep from tripping over the roots and boulders hidden beneath the snow. The sound of voices made her stop and look around. For a moment she thought she might have imagined it, but then it came again, a lone voice, shouting. Confused and concerned, she stealthily made her way in that direction, carefully placing her steps so as to not give away her presence. What she saw was surprising. Prince Hall and a small group of men were drilling back and forth and Nicholas Grey appeared to be in command. This certainly wasn’t what she’d expected to see, but more importantly, when had he become involved with the rebels? She also saw his neighbor Mr. Clegg among the men. Were they to be seen by a passing British patrol, they’d all be arrested and questioned, which was why most of the rebel drilling and preparations were done in secret. It came to her then that she needed to leave before they spotted her. She was member of a Tory family, and with Tories spying on rebels, she doubted they’d believe she’d just come to fish.

N
icholas looked out at Prince’s untrained minutemen and had to agree; they were untrained. They didn’t know how to march in formation, had little experience with firearms, and a few were in such bad physical condition that after an hour of marching and drilling they were on the ground wheezing. What impressed him, though, was that they were aware of their shortcomings, eager to improve, and to a man filled with the spirit of freedom. When he talked to them earlier about their reasons for wanting to fight, they gave him much the same reasons Prince had. It was their hope that the freedom the Sons of Liberty were espousing would be applied to all citizens equally, and the men of African descent, both slave and free, were willing to give their lives to add their weight to the scales.

But in order for them to be even moderately successful on a battlefield they had a lot to learn. In addition to the fifty commands they needed to be familiar with in order to fight together as a unit, they had to be taught to fire in three ranks; one line of kneeling men and two rows of standing men behind them, reloading and firing as swiftly as they could. Nicholas was just about to make them practice the lines again when a movement in the trees caught his attention. He called Prince over and while keeping an eye on the spot in the trees, he said. “Have the men rest for a moment. I believe we have a visitor.”

Prince froze.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” He could see the worry on Prince’s face. The last thing any of them needed was for their activities to be reported to the British authorities.

When Faith saw Nicholas Grey heading straight for her position she knew she’d been seen, and her first instinct was to flee like a child in trouble, but running away would only add to the appearance of guilt, so she stepped out of the trees, fully exposing herself.

The move seemed to catch him by surprise. He stopped, looked at her, and she looked back. Her chin rose defiantly because she had nothing to hide.

To say that Nicholas was surprised to see Faith Kingston was an understatement. He had no idea what the raven-eyed beauty with her gorgeous mouth was doing out here. Spying on them perhaps. She did have the pedigree for it. And why was she carrying a bucket?

Nicholas left her fearless glance for a moment to look around the trees for anyone that might have accompanied her, but saw no one else. Only then did he begin to close the distance between them, giving himself ample time as he walked to view the band of shining hair above the flat, dun brown hat on her head, the gray cloak shrouding her small frame, and then the face. She was beautiful enough to have stepped out of an African legend. The aforementioned dark eyes and well-shaped mouth accented the flawless skin. Were he in another time and place he would have already swept her up and stolen her away. Reminding himself that these were not the thoughts of a supposedly civilized man, he stopped before her, took in the coolness in her gaze, and asked, “Are you paying me back for lurking in your trees?”

“I came to fish.” She held up the bucket so he could see the net and fishing lines inside.

He scanned the bucket, then slid his gaze back to hers. “Why here?”

“Because it’s where I always come. Your father never minded.”

“Then I shan’t, either.” Yes, he thought, steal her away, but there were other more pressing matters at stake. No one was supposed to know what he and Hall’s men were doing. “How much have you seen?”

“Enough,” she told him plainly.

“And you’ll tell your father?”

“Nothing. What you do on your land is none of my business, Mr. Grey.”

“Interesting answer.”

“Why?”

“Your father is a loyalist. I’d think he’d want to know about rebel activity so close to his home.”

“So he can tell General Gage?”

“That does come to mind.”

“You still believe my father played a role in your father’s arrest.”

“I do.”

“What do I have to do to convince you how misguided that is?”

“Find Lady Midnight so that I might speak with her.”

Faith went cold inside but hid it well. “Who is Lady Midnight?”

“Supposedly the woman who brought Primus the warning about his arrest.”

“I know no one of that name.” She met his eyes and hoped her gaze was as bland as she thought. “I’ll fish another time.”

“I appreciate that. I’ll stop in later to go over the food selections.”

“That will be fine.” She turned and walked determinedly back towards the house.

As Nick watched her leave he pondered this latest encounter. First he’d seen her climbing out windows in the middle of the night, and now today she’d shown up lurking in his trees claiming to want to fish, of all things. The male in him enjoyed sparring with her even as he wondered if the visit by Faith Kingston had been just an innocent coincidence, or something more.

D
riving home, Faith realized she was shaking. She applauded herself for not fainting when he mentioned Lady Midnight, but she had to wonder if he was on to her. As far as she knew, she was the last person to see Primus, but how had Nicholas come to know that? Surely he didn’t think she was responsible for the arrest. The way he’d asked about her alter ego made her believe he was very interested in locating her, but for what purpose? She had enough to worry about, and now this. She’d planned to leave a message for John Hancock tonight about Gage’s intentions but now she wasn’t sure if she should risk it. What if Nicholas learned she was the woman he was after, and what might he do with the information?

Blythe stopped at the inn late that evening. Faith was in the kitchen gathering the ingredients and the Dutch ovens she’d need for the week’s baking she’d planned on doing the next day. Blythe removed her cloak and said quietly, “I saw your rock, so I came as quickly as I could.”

Faith took the rock from Blythe’s hand and slipped it back into the pocket of her skirt. Keeping her voice down so that her father and the two guests in the main room wouldn’t hear, she said, “Gage is talking of moving against the rebels.”

“When?”

Faith told her what she’d heard, adding, “Too bad he wasn’t more specific about the date, but mid April is precise enough for our purposes.”

“I agree. This will mean war.”

Faith nodded solemnly. “The Sons in Boston need to be alerted. Has someone taken Primus’s place?”

“Yes. His son, Nicholas.”

Faith went still. That was not what she wanted to hear.

“What’s wrong? He can be trusted.”

“We had an encounter today. He’s looking for Lady Midnight.”

“I know.”

Faith stared.

Blythe told her about her conversation with Nicholas and his desire to find Lady Midnight.

Faith replied, “But I don’t know who the betrayer is, or how Gage found out. Father said Primus was going to be arrested and I went to him as soon as I could.”

“How’d your father know?”

“I assumed Gage mentioned it in passing.”

Blythe then looked into Faith’s eyes and said earnestly, “Faith, you need to know that your father’s name has come up quite a bit in all the speculation swirling around the arrest.”

“You’re jesting.”

“No, and I don’t want you to be caught off guard if you hear the talk.”

“But he wasn’t involved. We both know that.”

Blythe responded quietly, “The only certainty I know is that sometimes certainty is not what we think.”

“Blythe, you can’t believe he would do something so dastardly.”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe. What matters most to me is that you be very careful.”

“I will but—” Faith was all but speechless. Her father wasn’t the nicest or politest person to her or anyone else, but she believed him to be an ethical man. Until she heard it from the general’s own lips, she’d never believe he had anything to do with Primus’s arrest. “I still say my father was not involved.”

Blythe didn’t respond.

Piqued, Faith asked, “What do we really know about Nicholas? He shows up here virtually out of nowhere, tossing coin around and ingratiating himself into the community. Suppose he’s a British spy. Are the Sons convinced he can be trusted?”

“I spoke with Prince Hall this afternoon, and he is as certain as anyone can be, considering the times, that Nicholas can be.”

“Hall doesn’t know I’m Lady Midnight does he?”

Blythe showed a soft smile. “No dear. Only you and I know her true identity. I made my pledge to you and to Primus to keep the secret and I will.”

“But how will I manage to get news to Nicholas? Primus and I had a prearranged signal that let him know when I needed to speak with him.”

“That’s something you will have to work out with Nicholas, I suppose. Maybe you should disguise yourself as you did the first few times you worked with his father.”

Faith mulled that over. Maybe a disguise would be the answer. Presently she couldn’t think of any other method that didn’t involve her revealing her true identity to him, so she let the dilemma go for now, in hopes of having an epiphany sometime soon.

Blythe said, “While you chew on that, Nicholas says he’s contracted with you for his reception. Have you told your father?”

“Not yet.”

“If it will help, the reception will be at my house and not his. Maybe your father won’t object if he knows that.”

“That will certainly be in my favor.”

“Nicholas wants me to invite some of the eligible ladies and their families. He may be in the market for a wife.”

Faith wondered why that bothered her. “Does that mean he’ll be settling here permanently?”

“I’m not certain, but he asked that I not include any insipid women though. His words.”

“That should narrow the field,” Faith replied sarcastically.

Blythe chuckled. “True, but either way, he doesn’t have much to choose from. I thought I’d ask Hazel Carstairs, Winnie Potts, and Elizabeth Sutter.”

The names were familiar to Faith, as were the personalities. She thought it might be nice to be a fly on the wall and watch the play unfold. “What time should I arrive?”

Blythe gave her the time, then said, “The Sons leadership should be told of Gage’s plans as soon as possible.”

“I’d planned on getting a message to John Hancock tonight.”

“What about Nicholas?”

Faith didn’t know. “I figure if I let Hancock know, everyone else with a need to know will be informed, including Nicholas and his contacts.”

“But there is no guarantee the men of color will be included.”

Faith knew she was right. With all the controversy swirling about whether Blacks would really be allowed to fight, who knew what Prince and the others might or might not be told. “Nicholas will have to be told.”

“Yes, he will. Do you want me to pass this news along to him?”

“I would.”

“All right, but remember, come next week I’ll be visiting my daughter in New York, and will be away until after she has her baby. If anything important arises, you will have to go to Nicholas on your own.”