Less Than a Gentleman (16 page)

Munro nodded. “See that ye do, Major.”

“Major?” Rich turned to Matthias. “You were promoted?”

“Aye, he was,” Munro answered for him. “If I have to kill him, ’twill look verra impressive on his gravestone.”

C
HAPTER
E
I
GHTEEN

A
fter making an excuse of not feeling well, Caroline left the children and Virginia in the kitchen, enjoying the birthday pudding Dottie had made. It was early afternoon and she had delayed long enough. The secret door on the third floor begged to be investigated.

As she scurried up the stairs, she heard the tinkling sounds of the harpsichord. Agatha was in the front parlor entertaining Jane and the redcoats. Good. There would be no one on the third floor.

She lit a candle in the nursery using the tinder wheel. In the hallway, she located the hidden latch and pulled. She squeezed through the opening and closed the door. Its tiny click sounded ominously final. What if all the doors were similarly hidden? She might have trouble finding an exit. Her thoughts raced ahead, imagining skeletons of other explorers who had failed to find their way out.

“Don’t be silly,” she murmured, and held her candle aloft. The small landing gave way to a narrow staircase which descended into darkness.

Slowly she moved down the stairs. Dust lay thick on the steps, coating her shoes and causing her nose to itch. How well could a person remain hidden if he sneezed?

On the first floor, she spotted the door that must open to the library. At eye level there was a rectangular sliding panel. She winced when it opened with a scrape. Why didn’t Thomas grease this?

She peered into the library. Yes, this explained everything. Thomas had been spying on them.
Spying.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. Thomas Haversham might be a real spy. That would explain why he disappeared for weeks at a time and moved about the house in the dark in his stocking feet.

“Damn.” She was not one to normally curse, but this situation certainly warranted it. A spy? That was even more dangerous than being a soldier. How could he do this when he knew how she felt?

She snapped the peephole shut. The grating sound made her grit her teeth. Thomas was flirting with disaster. It would be like losing Roger all over again.

But worse. Her feelings for Roger didn’t compare to the yearning that squeezed her heart whenever she thought of Thomas. With Roger, she had been flattered that a man, any man, had wanted to court her, and she’d allowed him to kiss her out of curiosity. How small and childish it seemed to her now. Poor Roger. He had deserved better than that.

And now Thomas was engaging in dangerous activity. How could she bear it if anything happened to him? With her heart heavy, she trudged to the end of the corridor.

When she opened the door, she recognized the small room lined with cupboards. She had emerged next to the dining room.

A jab of anger coursed through her that Thomas had ordered her not to spy, when he was obviously engaged in the activity himself. Even more irritating was the fact that he wasn’t very good at it. The secret corridor afforded him the means, but he wasn’t properly maintaining it. The doors and peepholes all squeaked. And the dust caused him to leave footprints wherever he went. She’d followed his trail and discovered the hidden passageway far too easily. If he continued to leave clues like that, he would be discovered in no time.

She would have to convince him to stop. He wasn’t cut out for espionage. In the meantime, she would have to protect him the best she could.

The rest of the afternoon, she worked like the devil. She mopped the floors of the secret passageway from top to bottom. Without windows, the air became stifling hot. By the time she reached the first floor, she was drenched with sweat. She left the mop and pail in the china room and dashed to the kitchen.

Dottie looked her over. “Good Lord, girl, you look ill. Are you running a fever?”

“I’m fine,” Caroline assured her. “Could I have a bit of grease? The door to my room creaks.”

With a small jar of bacon grease, Caroline headed back to the corridor and greased all the hinges and latches she could find. She scurried to her room, grabbed a clean set of clothing, then descended the grand staircase. She planned to change clothes after bathing in the kitchen. Just as she reached the back door, it opened.

Jane and Agatha sauntered in from the garden. Caroline hid the jar of grease beneath the bundle of clothes in her arms.

Jane gasped. “Are you all right, dear?”

Agatha stepped back. “She has some dreaded disease, I know it. She’ll give it to us all.”

Caroline grimaced. Did she look that bad? “I believe I should excuse myself from supping with you this evening.”

“Very well, dear.” Jane’s brow furrowed with concern. “I hope you’ll feel better soon.”

“I’m sure I will.” Caroline hurried out the back door to the kitchen.

After a hot bath, she dressed and took a tray of food up to the nursery. Eating with her family was so much better than dining with Agatha and the redcoats. Thank God she no longer needed to flirt with Captain Hickman in order to obtain information. She could use the secret passageway instead.

As the evening advanced, her nerves tightened with anticipation. The night was ripe for spying.

M
atthias arrived at Loblolly just after sunset. He moved stealthily toward the kitchen and peered in the window. Only Dottie and Betsy were inside.

He waited for the guard to complete his pass, then strolled into the kitchen. “Good evening, ladies.”

Dottie rose to her feet. “Boy, what are you doing here? You should be safe in the swamp.”

“This is my new assignment.” Matthias rolled a barrel against the door. “I’m to spy on Captain Hickman.”

With a frown, Dottie shook her head. “Sounds like a good way to get your neck stretched to me.”

Betsy shuddered. “I hate having to serve them.”

“Look at it this way.” Matthias sat at the table. “With the enemy this close, we can know what they’re doing, then use that information to defeat them.”

Betsy twisted her apron in her hands. “I’m afraid of them. I hate being afraid of them.”

“Drink this to steady your nerves.” Dottie poured a foul-smelling concoction into a pewter mug and handed it to the maid. “You have to be strong, girl. Don’t give them the pleasure of knowing they can frighten you.”

Betsy nodded and lifted the mug.

Matthias wrinkled his nose. “That stuff stinks. Do you have anything to eat that smells better than a dead skunk?”

Dottie snorted and plunked a plate in front of him. “You think blocking the door will keep you safe? If they can’t get in, they’ll be suspicious.”

“You can tell them you needed privacy, that you were bathing.” Matthias eyed the roasted beef, stewed mushrooms, beefsteak pie, beets, carrots, bread slathered with butter, and baked plum pudding. “I see my mother is feeding the redcoats well.”

“Yes, sir. Your mama told me to treat them as honored guests.” Dottie poured him a mug of ale, then eased into a chair with a tired groan. “Working me to death. At least Miss Munro has promised to help us tomorrow.”

He gulped down some ale, relieved to hear Caroline would be cooking instead of spying.

The kitchen door jiggled against the barrel as someone tried to open it.

“Damn.” Matthias stood.

Dottie slid his plate in front of Betsy. “Go to my room. We’ll tell you when it is safe to come out.”

Matthias closed himself in Dottie’s room and looked about. No door for an escape, but the window was big enough to climb through. He listened to the sounds—the barrel being moved, voices, then the barrel being shoved back.

Dottie called to him, “ ’Tis safe. Come out.”

He opened the door and froze. The hell it was safe.

Seated in the spot he had just vacated was Jacob, his father’s illegitimate son. All his life Matthias had known there was another. Another son a few months older than himself. The servants whispered about the other one, though never in his mother’s presence.

And in all those years, he had never been in the same room with the other one. It had been an unspoken agreement between his parents. Keep the mistress and bastard out of sight, so Mother could pretend they didn’t exist.

“Jacob’s come for his supper.” Dottie set a plate in front of the stranger. “Come and finish your food, Matt.”

He hesitated, frowning. “No thanks.”

“Go on.” Dottie pointed to the bench. “Sit and eat.”

The other one rose. He picked up his plate and a lit lantern he’d brought with him. “I can take this back to my house. Thank you, Dottie.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. ’Tis over a mile away.” Dottie glared at the two men. “You’re eating here, Jacob. And so are you, Matt. This is
my
kitchen, and you’ll do as I say.”

Jacob set his plate and lantern on the table. Still standing, he scowled at his food. Betsy poured him a mug of ale.

He was a tall man, Matthias noted, as tall as himself, and apparently intelligent. When Father had been captured in Charles Town, Mother had allowed Jacob to take over the business of running the plantation. It had embarrassed her to ask him, but with no one else available, she’d had no choice.

Dottie moved Matt’s plate across from Jacob. “Are you coming?”

“Aye.” Matthias approached the table.

Without glancing up, Jacob took a seat and began his dinner.

Matthias sat and bit into his beefsteak pie.

“That’s better.” Dottie settled in her chair at the head of the table.

Matthias ate quietly. He speared the carrots with his fork, avoiding the beets. As he chewed, he noticed Jacob shoveling his beets to the side. He didn’t like them, either? No matter. Probably half the population of South Carolina hated beets.

Dottie propped her feet up on a stool. “Matt has come to spy on the redcoats.”

Matthias flung his fork on the table. “Dammit, Dottie. Why don’t you announce it in a Charles Town newspaper?”

“Jacob can be trusted.” Dottie glanced at the other man. “Am I right?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jacob sliced his roast beef with a knife. “Don’t you worry about getting caught?”

Matthias picked up his fork. “No. I’ll be fine.”

They ate in silence for a while.

Betsy refilled their mugs. “Seems to me the safest way to spy on the redcoats is from the servant passageway.”

Matthias nodded. “That’s what I plan to do. I can listen at the peepholes.”

Jacob drank some ale. “Those peepholes are small. Your range of vision will be limited.”

Matthias shrugged. “I can see well enough.”

“I have a device that can see around corners.”

Matthias paused with a bite of roasted beef halfway to his mouth. “How?”

“It uses magnifying lenses and mirrors. Father and I designed it. We call it a corner telescope.”

Matthias lowered his fork.
Father and I.
So Jacob shared Father’s interest in mechanical devices. Matthias had always been interested in living things—plants, animals, and people. The lure of metal or glass had never made sense to him. But apparently it did to Jacob.

“In fact,” Jacob continued, “I have several items that might interest you. Would you care to see them?”

Matthias hated to admit it, but a tool that enabled him to see around corners could come in handy.

“I guess you don’t.” Jacob said when Matthias remain silent.

“He does,” Dottie announced. “Don’t mind him. He’s been in a sour mood of late. I need to give him another restorative.”

Matthias glared at her. “I am not sour.”

“You look a little powdery to me.” Betsy swiped at his arm. “Is this flour?”

“I slept in the mill last night.”

“No wonder you’re so grouchy.” Dottie nodded at him with a knowing look. “You need a good night’s sleep.”

“I am not grouchy,” Matthias growled.

“I have a spare bed,” Jacob offered. “The one I slept in as a child. I use the room as a workshop now, but you’re welcome to sleep there.”

Dottie raised a square, plump hand. “There, you see. ’Tis all settled.”

“It is not,” Matthias protested. “I accepted this mission knowing full well what will happen to me if I’m caught. I will not involve anyone else.”

Jacob set down his fork and knife. “I can make my own decisions.”

For the first time, Matthias made eye contact with the other one. He was momentarily taken aback by the sharp intelligence in Jacob’s brown eyes. “I work alone.”

Jacob’s jaw tightened. “Do you find the prospect of living with a slave offensive?”

“Enough.” Dottie gave them each a stern look. “Matt, you need a safe place to stay. Your brother has been—”

“He’s not my bro—” Matthias stopped himself.

A reddish hue spread across Jacob’s face. He scraped back his chair and stood. “I don’t have to listen to this.”

Matthias gritted his teeth. “I have no right to endanger you.”

Jacob’s eyes glinted in the firelight. “You have no right to enslave me, either, but does that stop you?”

“That’s enough.” Dottie scowled at them. “You don’t have to solve the problems of the world. You only have to sleep in the same house without killing each other. Can you do that?”

Matthias shrugged. “I can.” What choice did he really have? He stood and faced the other one. “Can you?”

Jacob’s jaw moved as if he were grinding his teeth. “Yes.” He grabbed his lantern and strode to the door. With his free arm, he scooted the barrel out of the way.

Matthias edged to the side of the door. “Wait ’til the guard passes.”

“You can wait. I have no reason to hide. See you at my house.” Jacob sauntered across the garden at a leisurely pace.

Matthias watched him walk away. Father must have given him those clothes. Jacob was well dressed, his long black hair pulled back and braided in a queue.

“Here.” Dottie offered him a jug and a parcel wrapped in cotton.

“What is this?”

“Rum and cake. The two of you hardly ate. I figure you’ll be hungry again soon.”

Matthias accepted the items. When the guard passed, he dashed across the garden to the cover of trees. Then he snaked through the woods to the path by the river. The air, thick and muggy, was filled with the irritating whine of locusts.

He spotted Jacob’s lantern ahead of him. Damn his luck. He’d have to share a house with the living proof of his father’s unfaithfulness and his mother’s humiliation.