The Messenger (19 page)

It had become a common occurrence: people asking me to do things without knowing the import of their requests. The next day, on first day, Betsy Evans pulled me aside on my way into the Meeting House.

“I know thee have been visiting the jail.”

I pushed the hood of my cloak from my head, releasing a cascade of snowflakes as I did it. Why should I not speak truth to Betsy? “Aye.”

“I have to know: Is he well?”

He was not well. None of the men were. But what was the point in telling her? In telling any of the Friends? What would they have done about it? “He asked me to pass on his greetings.” Or he would have had there been any time. I knew he would have.

Her eyes grew shiny as she blinked back tears. “When thee see him next . . . could thee tell him . . .” There was something going on behind her eyes, something happening in her soul. “Could thee tell him that I . . .”

Be courageous, Betsy!

“Could thee tell him I wish him the best?”

My spirits fell as if those words were meant for me. They were trite, insipid words, words that could be spoken to any man or woman, but words that would never be whispered to a heart’s beloved. She might as well have asked me to bid him farewell.

Jeremiah

It was dinnertime on Thursday and the soldiers weren’t quiet as they went about their eating. After being confined to the barracks with the foot of snow Sunday’s storm had left behind, and after watching it dissolve and then flood the streets during the previous day’s rain and fog, they were more restive than normal. A group of them had brought their piper along and ordered him to play. Unfortunately he was too young yet to be any good at it. And he was much too loud. I hadn’t quite caught what John had said to me.

“You want me to go to the wharves with you? Why?”

“Because I command you to do so. In the name of the King.”

“You couldn’t command a whore to give you a smile.”

He sniggered. Raised his mug in my direction.

“And if the King knew you at all, he would have you drummed out of the army in a thrice.”

“Perhaps. But don’t tell General Howe that. He thinks me a wonder. But do come.”

“I’ve business to tend to. Books to keep. Soldiers to feed.”

“Even God himself took a day off.”

I eyed him as I closed up the daybook. If truth be told, I was rather touched by his concern. And the weather was fine; the rain and fog had disappeared and the sun was making promises of the spring to come. “All right, then.”

He downed the last of his ale and grinned. “You won’t regret it!”

As we got to the wharf, I could see why he’d been so eager to enlist me. Miss Pennington awaited us, looking pretty as a portrait in a green striped gown with the skirts caught up at the sides. One hand grasped a parasol while the other was clapped atop a straw hat. She wore no cloak. Wishful thinking for the month of February, but who could begrudge anyone their wishes this fine day? She was the very picture of spring. And accompanying her was Hannah.

Her eyes widened as she saw me.

I doffed my hat and grinned.

She had turned to Miss Pennington and was whispering in her ear. Her cousin took her hand in her own, seemed to tug on it. The wind blew their words to us as we approached. “Nonsense! You knew nothing about it. And if anyone should say anything, I will go to Uncle myself and tell him he’s being a brute. Besides, I invited you. To accompany me.”

“Clearly thee knew that
he
would be here.”

“And what is that to you or me? Though now that they are here, we might as well enjoy their company.” She fluttered a handkerchief at us, smiling gaily.

John saluted back. Whispered under his breath, “You can thank me later.”

I would indeed. Right after the prisoners had escaped from jail. I would have bowed to Hannah, but I knew it would only incur her displeasure. And on this day of unfettered sun and warm breezes, when we could meet in public instead of some dark alley, I was willing to do almost anything but endure her scowl. I nodded instead.

She hesitated for a moment before returning the gesture.

I took a step closer as John pulled Miss Pennington away toward the end of the wharf. “We might as well take advantage of this opportunity. To talk.”

She looked at me as if I had spoken a blasphemy.

I offered up the arm I had. When she would not take it, I bent down to speak into her ear and I seized her arm as I did it. “They think we’re lovers. We might as well act like it. At least then they’ll afford us some privacy.”

“My father—”

“Said no arranged meetings. This one may have been arranged, but it was not arranged by us. I am just as astonished as you are.”

“I don’t know . . .”

I steered her away toward John and Miss Pennington. “If you looked at me as if you weren’t going to strike me, it might not make them suspect that we are any other than what they think we are.”

Her lips curved in a demure smile. I only wished it were a smile of true pleasure.

“Since they think that they are doing us a favor, may I suggest that we use this opportunity to arrange a place to leave messages?”

“But ’tis so deceitful. Allowing them to think . . .”

“That we are lovers? It is not our fault. And knowing you, I’ll wager you’ve protested the idea once or twice.”

She flushed.

“People will believe what they want to. So you might look at me as if you’ve found something in me to admire.”

She turned to look straight at me. “There is much to admire about thee.”

That was better. She looked as if she actually meant it this time.

“Thee are resolute and brave and kind.”

“Kind! You don’t have to sound so persuasive. They can’t hear you.”

“I am not given to flattery. I am simply stating the truth.”

Well, that was something. “I’ve a plan for the messages. We must continue the habit of walking in the afternoons. Only, when I have a message to pass, I will stop at Peterson’s Bookstore and leave it between the leaves of a blue-covered volume of
Aeneid
. If you time your walk to mine, then it shouldn’t be but several minutes before you can go into the shop and retrieve it.”

“Thee want me to recover it in plain sight?”

“If you cannot do it, then we can arrange to meet as we did before.”

She looked at me. I could not interpret the struggle taking place behind her eyes. Finally she spoke. “I will do it. But I would be rude indeed if I kept asking to see a particular volume and did not ever buy it. The man runs a business concern, not a lending library.”

She had a point. “Then at the end of each message we shall name a new book to ask for the next time.”

She nodded after a moment, though the gesture lacked somewhat in confidence. “And how will I know that thee have a message to pass?”

“You will see me outside the tavern as you walk past.”

She nodded. “And what if I have a message for thee?”

“Then . . .” Then what? “You must carry a basket in your hand.”

“I usually carry a basket in my hand.”

“Then you must not carry a basket in your hand.”

She took her time in replying, but eventually she nodded. “Does the bookseller know of this arrangement?”

“No one knows of our arrangement. And we must keep it that way.”

She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, but then she shut it. A frown furrowed her brow.

I eyed John, who was looking at us. “Please try to look as if this is diverting.”

“I would if I didn’t know that my very life depended upon their ignorance of our plans.”

“The only way they would suspect anything at all is if we didn’t act like the lovers they think us to be. If nothing else, we should be glad to be about in this fine weather.”

A shade of something passed through her eyes. “Then we must enjoy this delightful walk.”

It turned out that John had more on his mind than a walk. There was a pinnace waiting at the end of the wharf. “To take us out to the flagship!”

Hannah Sunderland, Quaker that she was, would not be impressed by any warship, but Miss Pennington might. My estimation of John Lindley slipped several pegs. He may have been worried about the state of my lonely heart, but not nearly as worried as he was about his.

John helped Miss Pennington onto the pinnace, then held his hand out for Hannah. She looked askance, at me.

I nodded. We might as well go along for the excursion. Because I was more than certain that if we stayed behind, she would turn tail and run back to Pennington House.

A crew of sailors rowed us out past the dozens of merchant ships that crowded the now ice-free port. And then out farther still toward a ship that was anchored by itself on the river.

As we neared, I realized why.

Polly put a handkerchief to her nose. “They really ought to do something about the smell! Are those . . . ? Why—they’re staring at us!”

“What’s that?” John had turned in the direction of her outflung finger. “Oh. It’s a prison ship.”

I heard Hannah gasp as our proximity revealed the silhouettes of prisoners crowding the decks and the windows.

“What poor manners they have—to stare at us that way!”

Hannah’s face had drained white, but now it had flushed red. “They’re not staring. They’re dying! They’re trapped on that deplorable ship and they’ve nothing to do but wait to die.” Hannah was looking at Miss Pennington with something akin to hatred in her eyes. I could not blame her. But I could try to restrain her words. I laid my hand on her arm.

She jerked toward me.

I shook my head.

She ignored me. “I suppose thy king condones such treatment.”

John had taken Miss Pennington’s arm and turned her from the unpleasant sight. Now he took it upon himself to respond. “
My
King? He’s your king too.”

I closed my eyes against her indiscretion, trying to think of something to say. “You know how it is with Quakers. They don’t hold with any authority but God’s.”

John smiled a tight smile. “Yes. Of course. I’m sure that must be why you find her company so charming.” He looked at me as if he was certain I’d gone mad.

John slipped a hand around the back of Miss Pennington’s waist and drew her off to the side.

I looked down at Hannah. “There’s no need to make so public your loyalties.”

“I had not meant to. I hadn’t known I had any. But he’s just so . . .”

Arrogant? Conceited? Haughty?

“. . . so cruel.”

“To people like him we’re just colonials. We have never been, nor will we ever be, quite so good as those English born and bred.” I knew it from bitter experience.

“Had they bothered to treat their prisoners with anything other than cruelty and disdain, had they thought to treat us like equals rather than intractable children . . .” Her gaze still rested on that hulk of a ship.

“If they had done, they might have already won this war.”

“Why do they have to be so condescending?”

“From their absolute conviction that we’re so much less than they are.”

She pressed her lips together and spoke not another word, though a flush continued to ride the tops of her cheeks.

“We’re going to have to rejoin our friends. And I’m going to have to ask you to keep your politics to yourself.”

For a moment she looked like she might cry. “I should not even have any. But . . . I’ll try.”

“If you don’t, if you can’t, then you’re likely to end up on one of those.” I nodded at the prison ship that floated listlessly beside us. I nudged her into motion. As we approached the flagship that had been anchored farther out, John pulled a bottle of Madeira from someplace, poured a glass for each of us, and raised it in the direction of the prison ship. “To the prisoners! May the rebellion and its ideals die as painful a death.”

Miss Pennington echoed his words with a giggle.

He offered a glass to me.

I declined it.

“What? You aren’t drinking?”

“Motion of the boat. There was a reason I joined the army and not the navy.”

“Ah. Miserable sort of luck. I’ve never been affected myself. Miss Sunderland?”