Elizabeth Meyette (17 page)

“Jenny!” Andrew gasped as he watched Shadow carry away the woman he loved.

Confusion reigned as Captain Walters shouted orders for his men to mount and chase her, but the dogs began their baying again and in their excitement, wound their tethers around the legs of several horses. Men kicked at the dogs trying to get them out of the way and disentangle the leashes, but it took a few minutes before any were able to mount and pursue Jenny.

Walters turned and caught the look of fear on Andrew’s face.

“So, perhaps we have yet another bargaining chip in this game,” he smiled. “You seem quite distraught over the lady’s escape, Wentworth. Do not worry; when we catch her, I shall take special care of her, as Mrs. Brentwood knows I can,” he said running a finger along Emily’s jawline.

Brushing his hand away, Emily stepped toward him her face in his.

“Be careful whom you play with, Captain Walters. She has a better aim than I.”

“We shall see, Mrs. Brentwood. Now I am afraid I must leave you for a brief time, but do not fear. Several of my men will remain with you to ensure Brentwood’s capture should he return. I promise you that when we capture your husband, I will bring him to you so you can enjoy some of the consequences of his treason.”

Emily’s stomach reeled at his words, but her face never betrayed her. Steely-eyed, she stared at Captain Walters before spitting out her words.

“What I will enjoy watching, Captain Walters, is your death at my husband’s hands.”

Grinning, he replied. “I am afraid you will be disappointed if that is your goal.” Turning to his men, he gave instructions to the four of them who would remain and ordered the others to mount their horses. Sensing the continuation of the chase, the dogs took up their howling, pulling at their tethers, anxious to be off. Over the din, Captain Walters turned back to Emily.

“Until we meet again, Mrs. Brentwood.” Saluting, he turned his horse and rode down the drive.

The remaining soldiers moved toward Emily, but she stopped them with a look.

“Stay where you are, gentlemen, for you are not invited guests. Make yourselves comfortable in the stables with your horses.”

Startled at her resolve, they looked at each other in confusion. Finally, they took their horses’ reins and led them to the stables.

Once they had moved away, Emily grabbed Andrew’s arm as her knees gave out. Reaching around her back, he supported his sister as he led her into the manor.

• • •

The sun beat down as Shadow’s hooves pounded the road. As the scenery flew by, Jenny tried to think. Unsure which direction to head, she knew her path was east toward Williamsburg. The rain had been a torrent the day she had arrived at Brentwood Manor, so the road was not familiar, but she held steady toward the east and trusted she would find her way. Praying that Shadow would be swift enough to outrun the British, she patted the horse’s flank and called out encouragement as they sped along the road.

The image of Andrew facing the British officer was burned in her brain. Watching out the front window, she had seen the cruelty etched in the captain’s face, the brutish pleasure in his eyes. No, she could not remain safely in the house while others faced the enemy. She had witnessed the ruthlessness of the British in Boston, and she felt compelled to act. Heart racing and ears filled with the incessant beat of Shadow’s hooves, she dug in her heels pressing the mount to go faster. As if sensing the urgency, Shadow complied and they shot ahead.

Fear gripped her as she wondered about Andrew’s safety. Aside from the plantation slaves, Andrew stood virtually alone, for David was not expected back for at least a week. She knew of Emily’s earlier encounter with Captain Walters, and she marveled at the woman’s mettle to stand up to him as she had today. Indeed, the Wentworth siblings were courageous.

Jenny rode for what seemed like hours before she sensed Shadow’s strength waning. Knowing that the horse needed rest, she slowed their pace and began to look for signs of shelter. Passing several possible paths into the forest, she dismissed them as too difficult to distance them enough from the road. Surely if Shadow was tiring, any British troops who might have followed her would find their own mounts tiring as well. She risked her lead and slowed Shadow to a trot. Up ahead she saw a road diverting off to the north. Pressing her lips together, she pondered the consequences of following it and pulled Shadow up to a halt and listened. Cicadas sang in the trees and small animals scurried through the underbrush, but no hoof beats sounded in the distance. Engulfing them like a shroud, the humid air was stifling and Jenny’s frock was sodden with sweat. She could feel that Shadow’s coat was drenched as well, and she patted the horse for offering its best efforts. Realizing the horse needed water and rest, Jenny pulled the reins and guided Shadow to the tree-lined side road. The shade was a welcome relief and they continued along at a slower pace. Jenny scrutinized the woods on either side of the road looking for some hint of the sympathies of the property’s owner. If he were a Tory, she was as good as captured; if a patriot, perhaps she could enlist some assistance. Gradually the trees thinned and a purposeful row of elms lined either side of the drive. Pulling up the reins, Jenny led Shadow into the woods to survey the residence.

A manor house soon came into view, but there was no sign of any inhabitants on the front lawn. Staying hidden in the trees, Jenny circled the manor to the back of the house where she saw several people in the gardens and a man walking toward the barn. Still unable to determine the leanings of the owners, she decided to dismount and observe for a while, though time was of the essence if she were to be of any help to Andrew.

She heard the crack of a twig at the same time she heard the click of a pistol near her ear. Frozen, she instinctively raised her hands in surrender as her captor whispered, “Who are you?”

Remembering Emily’s courage, she breathed deeply and turning said, “I am Jennifer Sutton. Who are you?” As she faced the man, she was startled to note his smile beginning.

“Good day, Jenny. I am Uncle Jonathon.”

They sat in Stephen Alcott’s study, candlelight flickering off somber faces. Jonathon rose and paced the room flicking the ash of his cigar in the fireplace as he passed it. The ticking of the parlor clock seemed to mock his need for action, but caution reined him in as they discussed optional plans of action.

“Jonathon, I say we gather neighbors and show those British who is in charge in Virginia,” Stephen Alcott said, slapping his hand on the rosewood desk.

“Stephen, while I admire your devotion, they outnumber us at present,” Jonathon replied returning to his place on the settee. He sat beside Jenny looking at her earnestly. “Now tell me again, Jenny, how many soldiers did you see?”

“There were about twenty-five in all, Jonathon.”

“And their arms?”

Jenny thought for a moment, her eyes transfixed as she cast her memory to the scene on the Brentwood Manor lawn.

“They all had muskets with bayonets. I believe the captain had a pistol as well.”

Jonathan rubbed his hand across his chin, thinking. He shifted in his seat and tapped his fingers lightly on the arm of the settee. Finally, he looked at Stephen and spoke.

“I need to return to the
Destiny
and rally my men. If I leave immediately, I can have them back here by tomorrow night.”

“Jenny will need to leave here as well, and Shadow needs rest after their ride today. Do you have a mount for her?”

“Yes, and I will have saddlebags packed with supplies for you both,” Stephen said standing to ring for a servant.

“No, wait, Stephen. The fewer people who know of our presence here, the better. Pack whatever you can gather yourself, for we must be away soon.”

Stephen dropped the bell rope and returned to his chair.

“Jenny, you must go to Williamsburg and find Randy O’Connor. Ask for him at the Raleigh Tavern; if he is not there, someone will know where he is. Tell him what has happened — he will know what to do. We will share the road part of the way, but if British troops accost us, you are to ride away as fast as you can, do you understand?”

“Jonathon, my uncle is in Williamsburg as well,” Jenny said.

“I do not know where he stays, Jenny. Randy will know. You must find Randy first, do you understand?”

Jenny nodded, and he was assured by her gray eyes intent in the candlelight.

The three of them rose as one, each focused on what must be done. Jonathon shook Stephen’s hand.

“You have been a loyal friend and a faithful patriot, Stephen. Thank you.”

“Do not dismiss me yet, Jonathon,” he chuckled. “Send word on your return and I shall help you rout those bastards.”

Jonathon clapped him on the arm. “I shall appreciate having you beside me, friend.”

Jonathon and Jenny slipped out the back door of the manor and stole to the stables to saddle the horses. When they were preparing to mount, Stephen returned with a saddlebag of supplies for each.

“Godspeed,” he said to them.

“Thank you again, Stephen,” Jonathon replied, then gently kicking Neptune, he rode out into the moonlit night, Jenny following close behind.

• • •

Andrew paced the length and breadth of the parlor as Emily and Joanna watched, each ignoring her sewing. His mind raced with possibilities of what might happen should Jenny be caught, each image bringing a surge of apprehension, and he was gripped by a compelling urgency to race to her aid. But where was she? Unfamiliar with the territory, she would not know where to flee to for help.

“Damn!” He slapped his hands down on the table behind the settee causing both women to jump. “Damn,” he repeated brushing his hands through his hair. “There is nothing I can do to help her. The soldiers forbid anyone from leaving the property, and they guard the stables as if they were made of gold. I must get to Jenny, but how?”

Emily went to her brother placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at his sister, noting a wan smile on her face.

“Andrew, we must believe that Jenny made it safely away,” she said, rubbing his shoulder.

“I know, Em. She is an excellent rider, and Shadow is swift.”

“And she is not loaded down with muskets, bayonets and a heavy uniform,” she smiled. “I believe she will be all right; you must believe it, too.”

“How have you done it all these months, Em? How have you lived not knowing whether Jonathon was alive or dead?” His eyes burned with unshed tears, and he saw the answering tears glisten in his sister’s.

“You must be strong for her, Drew. You must pray and trust and believe that she will evade the British and find help somewhere. You must do all of this for her.”

Feeling drained, Andrew walked to the window and leaned his forearm against the frame. He stared out at the grounds as if willing Jenny to appear. Resting his head against his arm, he closed his eyes and prayed. It was as if a fist clutched his heart, sharp and unrelenting. Inaction was unbearable; how could he help her? He thought of her slender body, her gentle smile, and then the sneer of Captain Walters invaded his imaginings. Anger coursed through him at the thought of Jenny in that brute’s captivity. He pounded a fist against the frame, impotence engulfing him.

“I must do something,” he uttered. “How can I sit here in the comfort of our home and remain idle while she is out there … ” his voice trailed off unable to voice his darkest fears.

Again, Emily approached her brother and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Because you have no other choice,” she said softly. Her words burned into him.

• • •

Jenny had left Jonathon at a fork in the road over an hour earlier. Riding beside him had been comforting, and now that she was alone again, the fears that she had not allowed into her mind seemed to possess her. The night brought little relief from the heat and humidity of the day, and the mount she was on now was considerably slower than Shadow had been. Her heart beat in rhythm to their pace as they made steady progress toward Williamsburg. Jonathon had given her clear directions, so she at least felt as though she were no longer flying along the road with no course. Nevertheless, she knew danger was still possible if she encountered any British troops along the way.

Cottages seemed to appear more frequently along the roadside, and pasture fences ran together signaling the proximity of a town. Soon, lights flickered a welcome from residences and taverns ahead, and she knew she had reached Williamsburg. The streets were quiet since the hour was so late, but as she turned up Duke of Gloucester Street, she heard sounds of activity ahead. Reining in her horse, she dismounted and entered the Raleigh Tavern. Her eyes, used to the inky night, took a moment to focus on the scene before her. Men gathered around tables engaged in lively debate or laughed at a shared joke as serving girls brought tankards of ale. Her entrance caused a gradual lull in the raucous interactions, as one by one each table became aware of her presence. It was unusual for a lady to stay at the taverns, and unheard of for one to appear out of nowhere, unaccompanied, after dark.

Glancing down at herself, Jenny noted how disheveled she looked in a dress which that morning had mirrored the color of the flower garden. Her long ride in the humidity made the dress cling to her form in a most unladylike manner. She tugged at it trying to compel it to fall loosely about her, but to no avail. Reaching up she brushed the hair from her face in an attempt to tame the tousled curls. Finally, giving up, she simply looked at the crowd and focused on her mission.

“Where is Randy O’Connor?” she asked. Exhausted from her ride, her voice was soft and her limbs tingled from being held taut.

Men looked at each other in bewilderment leaning forward and remarking on her appearance.

“Where is Randy O’Connor?” she said again, raising herself to her full height and using the voice she had commanded the horses with throughout the day. “I need to speak to him immediately.”

“Randy, it appears one of your bawdy adventures has caught up with you,” shouted a voice near the stairs. Laughter erupted and several rude remarks rose over the din.