THE CRY FOR FREEDOM (Winds of Betrayal) (7 page)

“We are talking too much about me,” Hannah said abruptly. She had no desire to discuss her family with this stranger. She glanced over at him. “What about you? What part of England are you from?”

“Very observant, Hannah. I was raised in England, but business forced me oversees. I have lived in the colonies the last few years,” Marcus said, but the conversation came to a halt upon the appearance of Zachary.

“Hannah,” Zachary began, flustered, working his reins to control the horse.

“Don’t start, Zachary. We have a guest. I have invited Mr. Durham back for refreshments,” Hannah smiled over at Marcus, who looked thoroughly amused at her change in attitude.

Hannah changed into a simple blue dress before returning to find Marcus. The look she received from her mother indicated they were none too happy with this encounter or her extended invitation. She couldn’t explain why she’d done so either. She descended down to the parlor. Upon hearing voices from the veranda, she stood in the doorway, observing the scene. A squeal of delight came from her young cousins.

“Do another,” Betsy cried. The girls’ eyes enlarged as Faith searched all round the table.

“Where did it go?” Faith asked, looking questioningly at the man in front of her.

“Let us see,” Marcus replied. He reached behind the child’s ear producing the coin. The girls shrieked in delight.

“I can see you have been well entertained,” said Hannah, stepping into the room. “You seem to have a way with children. Do you have some of your own?”

Marcus didn’t have the opportunity to answer as Hannah was bombarded by her cousins. The two small girls with ringlets falling around their faces from underneath their caps grabbed their cousin’s hands leading her to one of the large basket chairs.

“He knows all sorts of tricks. Don’t you, Mr. Durham?” Faith exclaimed.

Giving an apologetic smile, Hannah said, “It seems my young cousins have been left to entertain you. Where did Mother go?”

“Don’t worry. We have had a grand time. Have we not young ladies?” Marcus said in which the girls hardly agreed. Turning back to Hannah, he answered, “Your aunt wasn’t feeling well. Your mother went to tend her.”

“We told him all about you, Hannah. Told him you could out shoot anyone we know. She
has even taught James,” Betsy said with pride, talking rapidly.

“Betsy! What have you been boring Mr. Durham with?” Hannah asked. She had no desire of Marcus discovering her secrets.

“Not much. It was Faith who told him about you being mad at Gabriel. She had so hoped to be able to go to your wedding and now,” Betsy grimaced. “We aren’t sure.”

“Betsy!” Hannah cried, horrified, her face a shade redder than before. “I’m so sorry. What you must think.”

His eyebrows raised in an amused manner. “On the contrary, I have been utterly charmed.”

“He has, Hannah. He said that Gabriel must be a fool. I said so, too,” Betsy said in a confident manner.

Uncomfortable with the topic at hand, Hannah refused to look over to where Marcus sat. She could feel his eyes upon her. “Girls, why don’t you run and check to see if lunch is ready. I am sure Mr. Durham is hungry by now.”

“I believe I saw Father ride up, anyway,” Betsy acknowledged. She gave a small curtsy, as did her smaller sister. Hannah stood as she watched the two run off.

“I do so apologize. They’re just children.”

He stepped beside her and stared into her eyes. Her breathing quickened and she fought the urge to take a step back. “There is nothing to apologize for. The more I learn about you, the more fascinated I become.”

“Miss Hannah,” Gil, the houseboy, appeared. “Lunch is served.”

“Thank you,” Hannah replied.

The remainder of Marcus’s visit went uneventful, with her uncle questioning him about how he became lost. Not once did he appear ill at ease. On the contrary, he had the look of a man who seemed to be quite enjoying himself. After lunch, Hannah watched from the window as he rode down the road toward Williamsburg.

“Don’t like it. No, not one bit,” her uncle uttered by her side. Abruptly, he released the curtain in his hand.

Her uncle didn’t trust him either. There was something disturbing about the elegant Mr. Durham. Hannah just didn’t know what.

Williamsburg was buzzing. Governor Dunmore had proclaimed Patrick Henry an outlaw, serving only to enhance the growing unrest.  Customers could talk of nothing else when they entered Corbett’s silversmith store.  Jonathan had spent the better part of the morning discussing the wisdom of Governor Dunmore’s actions, but he needed a break. He glanced over at his brother who nodded that he would handle Mr. Hemmingway who had walked in no more than a moment before.

Jonathan was set to return within a fortnight to Philadelphia. The letters he had known would come from Catherine urged him to do so. His commission had come through, but he hated to leave Williamsburg. He didn’t like all that had gone on in Williamsburg since he had returned home. Morse was dead. God, he hated that! Morse’s words echoed in Jonathan’s head
. Our lives will mean nothing compared to our goal. Without doubt sacrifices will be made.

Lanson had bought the package, on which his father was working diligently trying to decipher. Until his father was finished, Jonathan covered his father’s store and was the reason why he had postponed going back to Philadelphia. Peter Lanson disturbed him greater than any news he had brought, though. Lanson was certain there had been a leak and all their lives were in danger. He would hate to admit that perhaps his father-in-law had been right. It was safer for Catherine in Philadelphia.

With Hannah’s revelation about Marcus Durham, all were on edge. Thank goodness for Hannah’s quick thinking. Unbeknownst to her, the militia had stored supplies within the cabin. They had gotten wind of Lord Dunmore laying in wait to search all the boats exiting the James. If the supplies were what Marcus Durham was looking for, it would have been disastrous.

With all that had occurred, Jonathan had found it difficult talking to his father about Gabriel. Within the confines of Williamsburg, Gabriel had returned to the friend he had known before—no late nights, no drunkenness, no perfumed clothing. Gabriel’s concentration seemed to have turned to his family’s acceptance of Hannah,
who had taken a firm stance against since his visit to Philadelphia.

“I don’t know what happened,” Gabriel complained to Jonathan. “But Father has threatened to cut me off without a penny. I need only time to convince them otherwise. What else can a fourth son hope? They say now they want Alvina Jameson for me. Father has even talked of such with her father! Can you imagine me with her?”

“She’s rich,” Jonathan countered. He had hoped for a quicker denial of the fact he was even considering the situation. Hadn’t he already asked his father for Hannah’s hand? 

Gabriel ignored his comment. “I have thought about everything. I was wondering if you could help me obtain a commission with all your connections, especially your father-in-law. I know Father would be impressed, along with Hannah.”

“I will see what I can do,” Jonathan offered. “But, Gabriel, I won’t have Hannah treated in this manner. If you are withdrawing—”

“I would never!” Gabriel responded emphatically. “I could never be happy with another.”

Jonathan stared at his friend. But money would ease the pain, Jonathan thought, and then quickly reprimanded himself. What would he do in his situation? He didn’t have that particular worry. Money wasn’t an issue. Wasn’t that one of the reasons Gannon accepted him so readily when he explained he could keep his daughter in the lifestyle she was accustomed to?

His father had always kept a low profile, never flaunting his wealth. Gabriel suspected, of that Jonathan was certain. He had often commented that Jonathan never wanted for anything. His father had sent him to William and Mary and then College in Philadelphia. Wouldn’t Gabriel undoubtedly marry Hannah without hesitation if he knew for certain?

Jonathan walked back into the kitchen for a quick drink of tea. He could hear Mother Agnes in the parlor humming to herself. The family had returned from Mount Fairview only yesterday, after Hannah had discovered Marcus Durham wondering about the plantation. He walked over behind his stepmother. Momentarily startled, she turned, relief in her eyes. He leaned over to kiss her cheek.

“I am sorry, Jonathan. My mind was elsewhere.” She smiled as she placed her flowers down upon the table.

“Where would that be?” he asked.

Hesitating for only a moment, she answered. “Would it surprise you if it was on Hannah?”

He reached for a piece of fruit from the table and took a seat on the winged chair. “In all honesty, no.”

“I worry about her, Jonathan. I overheard her with the Miller’s girl, Peggy, this morning. She talked of joining the militia. I believe if we don’t tie her down she will, too.”

He chuckled, but immediately knew his mistake. 

“You think I jest,” she cried picking up the flowers to arrange once more. “I wish I was. She told Peggy that she could out shoot and ride any of them. And didn’t see any reason for her not to.”

“Mother Agnes, she is merely mad at Gabriel for his inaction. And even if she was serious, no one is going to accept a woman in the militia. You do so worry about her, but this one isn’t within her means. You are sure there isn’t more?”

She bit her lip. She looked down. “It is probably more the business with Gabriel. I can see she is quite taken with him. And with him asking John for her hand and now stands back. I believe that God-awful man Richard Wick put something dreadful into Margaret Witherspoon’s ear.  Hannah’s heart is breaking, Jonathan.” She paused for a moment. “If only he knew about Hannah’s dowry.”

Jonathan shook his head. “Then he wouldn’t be marrying her for the right reasons, would he?” he said plainly. “In truth, Mother Agnes, Gabriel needs to mature and take responsibility for his actions. If he had doubts, he should have never have asked Father, no matter Hannah’s dowry or not.”

She smiled up at him. “Ah, I shouldn’t dwell on the issue at the moment. You are here for such a short time. I wish your bride had come with you. I understand, though, Jonathan, I do. When you return, you are coming back home. Aren’t you?” Concern emulated within her voice “I know it is selfish, but we do wish all our children home.”

“It isn’t selfish, Mother Agnes. I want nothing more than to settle here, but Catherine fears for me when I leave with my commission. Once I return for good, it won’t be an issue. You will love her.” Jonathan said with more confidence than he felt. In truth it was his desire. He would only have to convince Catherine of the same.

* * * *

A loud uproar woke Hannah from a sound sleep, and sleep hadn’t come easy for her lately. She had refused to think of Gabriel. Thoughts of him only angered her. Just yesterday Peggy said she thought Gabriel was only looking to marry money. But his words…his promises echoed within her head and filled her dreams. She told no one, but pondered them close to her heart.

Loud voices resounded from down the stairs. She ran from her room and into Mother Agnes as she bounded down the stairs. She could hear drums beating from open windows. Her father raced from his study where he had still been at work. Jonathan had dressed hurriedly, quite disheveled.

“Father,” Jonathan said. “William is here. The British have stolen the Magazine. The Drums are sounding.”

“Get my musket, Jonathan. I’ll get my boots,” her father said anxiously as he moved passed the women. William stood by the door, ready for action. The drum thuds echoed throughout the house. Jonathan’s steps interrupted the rhythmic call. Within minutes the men were out the door without another word.

Mother Agnes checked, ensuring the door, was shut tight. Hannah posed behind Mother Agnes waiting until she left the foyer. Turning, Mother Agnes shook her head at Hannah, “Don’t try. We don’t know what they are going into. You will have to wait with the rest of us.”

Frowning, Hannah bemoaned the fact. “How am I to wait?”

“We’ll get out the embroidery.  You haven’t much progress on your last piece. It will make the time go by faster for all of us. It will be a long night,” Mother Agnes reached into her sewing basket by the couch. Jinnie stepped into the parlor.

“Mr. Corbett tole ma if there was trouble to send Malcolm for him. Malcolm is sittin’ on the porch watchin’.”

Hannah frowned, but she had no choice but to stay. She lit a lamp and made her way into the kitchen.  “I’ll help make some tea, Jinnie. Where is Mary?”

“Hidin’ und’r ‘em covers, Miss Hannah. She ain’t the braves’,” Jinnie responded.

“If you have checked on her, it is enough,” Hannah said walking back with Jinnie. Jinnie stopped her.

“Donna worry, Miss Hannah, ‘bout the tea. Ah make ya’ll a pot,” Jinnie smiled. Hannah nodded and sighed. She started pacing.

“Sit down, Hannah. You are making me nervous,” Mother Agnes said, pulling the needle through the material, calmly.

The drums continued, wearing on all their nerves. Hannah went once more to the window. She could make out a crowd and from the noise they didn’t seem happy.

“I can’t abide this waiting,” she exclaimed after a while.