Midnight (11 page)

Her decision made, she walked to her bed and lifted the thin mattress where the widow’s weeds she used in her disguise lay hidden, and began to dress.

It was just past midnight when Faith eased open the shutters and climbed down to the soft earth below. Unfortunately the moon could be seen through the clouds sliding past it, but her hope was that the cold, windy night would become cloudier. Crossing an open field in full moonlight would cast her shadow all the way to Boston.

Taking in a breath to buoy her courage, she set out for the Grey family home. With the increased British patrols, she didn’t dare risk taking the road, but it was necessary that she cross it, however, because Nick lived on the opposite side. Accomplishing that quickly, she used the cover of the thick growth of pines to mask her passage. That he lived less than thirty minutes away stood in her favor, and was also one of the reasons she and Primus had been able to communicate so quickly and so well. In order for Primus to get to his shop in Boston he’d had to drive past the inn, so he knew to look for their mutually agreed upon signals that indicated she had information to pass. Sometimes it was the churn she left by the side of the house, others the way she hung the pillow slips and quilts outside on the clothesline to dry on wash day.

Now, however, she was on her way to see his mesmerizing son.

The moon turned out to be a help rather than a hindrance. As she crunched her way through the thin coat of snow, the faint light guided her journey through the forest’s maze. In truth, the silence and the moon on the snow would have made for a beautiful night were it not for the cold wind snatching at the hem of her gray cape. She was glad she’d worn it. With the hood up she looked like nothing more than a passing shadow. More importantly, she was warm.

She exited the trees and paused. Ahead lay the cleared farmland owned by the Potts family. Faith wondered if Eva was still steaming over the set-down Nicholas had given her at his reception. She took a quick look up at the house. Seeing no lights, she did another quick survey of the fields, and after seeing nothing to impede her, made a dash for the trees on the other side. Once there, she set off again. She repeated the dash three more times, the final one being onto Grey’s land.

Standing in the trees she ran her eyes over the house. There was a small light in one of the rooms upstairs. Before she could lose her nerve she made her way over to the house and knocked at the back door. After a few moments, she stepped back to keep him from seeing her clearly. Hoping it was far enough away, she lowered the veil over her face, held the edges of her cloak closely, and waited for him to appear.

The door opened and there he stood with a candle boat in his hand. She shrank back from the light and demanded in a harsh whisper that cloaked her true voice, “Douse the light or we’ll both hang!”

For a second Nicholas stared frozen, then blew out the flame.
Was this she?
He couldn’t make out the facial features, but the person was bent over like a crone. “And you are?”

“Your father knew me as Lady Midnight. Alert Hancock that his arrest is imminent.” And she turned to leave.

“Wait!”

She stopped but didn’t face him.

“Do you know who betrayed Primus?”

At first he wasn’t sure she’d respond, but finally she whispered, “No,” and walked away. The wind whipped at him as he stood watching. When she was far enough away to melt back into the night, he closed the door.

He stood there for a long moment thinking. He’d finally gotten a look at the elusive Lady Midnight. In reality it hadn’t been much of one, but he was pleased to have finally laid eyes on her. The news about Hancock was disturbing. It meant the British were after the head of the snake. He wasn’t sure if the move was out of strength or desperation, but either way, the Sons needed to know. To facilitate that, he drew on his cloak, walked outside and across the road to wake up Arte.

It took only a few knocks to rouse his friend.

Candle in hand, Arte opened the door. “Nicholas?” he asked in sleepy surprise.

“Sorry for the intrusion, but I need to speak with you. This can’t wait until morning.”

Arte backed up a few steps to let him enter.

Nick kept his voice low. “Hancock’s going to be arrested.”

Arte eyes widened. “How do you know?”

“My father’s Lady paid me a visit a few moments ago.”

“Really? Did she say anything else?”

“Other than denying any knowledge of who betrayed Primus, no. After that she left me.”

Arte met his eyes. “All right. I’ll pass this on. Bekkah’s going to tar me for having to ride out now, but as you said, this can’t wait until morning.”

Nick nodded.

“Thanks again, friend.”

Nick left and returned to his bedroom to ponder the appearance of the Lady. Standing before the fire to warm the chill of outside, he noted that it had been impossible to see her face through the shroud of thick lace. Her hunched carriage gave her the impression of advanced age, but would an elderly woman really be skulking about in the middle of the night, considering the weather and all the possible dangers posed by both man and beast? He supposed it depended upon the fervor of the person involved, but if tonight’s visit was any indication, his father’s spy was very fervent.

However, none of this revealed her identity. He couldn’t even be certain that she was a female. In the morning he planned to check the snow for tracks. He might be able to determine which direction she’d taken and maybe more. He had to admit that her appearance had infused him with a measure of excitement because now he felt one step closer to answers. He was supposed to drill with Hall and the men in the morning, so he’d pass along the information about Hancock at that time. A message from Dom a few days ago had informed him that the guns would be arriving soon. He hoped it wasn’t too late.

Chapter 11

F
aith awakened the following morning before dawn. She hadn’t slept well. In the back of her mind floated images of dreams that were far too fleeting to grasp, but were still oddly disturbing. From outside, the combined sounds of pelting rain and high-pitched winds rattling the shutters let her know the weather was foul. This was the time of year when the spring rains came to battle winter for supremacy, resulting in cold, raw, wet weather that kept people inside their homes.

She left the bed. The dark room was freezing. Shivering, she stuck the fire iron into the embers in her fireplace to free the few still-burning coals from beneath the ash, and added more kindling. Tending the small blaze until it could be left on its own, she crawled back beneath the quilts to wait for the room to warm.

She wondered if last night’s meeting with Nicholas was the reason she’d had such a fitful night. He hadn’t recognized her, of that she was certain, and she’d obscured her tracks in the snow to keep him from following her steps. It was a trick she’d learned as a child while playing hide-and-seek in the snowy forest with Ingram and the other children. Who knew she’d grow up and need such a thing, she thought as she watched the fire grow.

While the sleet and rain continued to batter the house and the wind rose and fell, she listened for sounds of her father moving around upstairs. Hearing only silence, she thought back on his disturbing news about their finances, and set her mind to thinking how she might help so he wouldn’t have to sell. The inn hadn’t been busy in weeks so taking in laundry was an option. The British soldiers were always in need of clean uniforms so there was a ready need. She could ask Henri Giles to help spread the word of her service, which might ensure a steady number of customers, and with spring about to arrive, she’d be able to hang the clothes outside on the lines to dry.

Being a laundress was backbreaking work, not to mention the effects of the lye on the skin. However, if that was what she had to do in order to keep herself in her home, she’d gladly do so. Her other option was to sell bread, and that too came with a ready market among the soldiers. The barracks were full of hungry men. Everyone knew the Kingstons were good Tories so her patronizing the troops wouldn’t be out of the question or draw suspicion, but more importantly, both business ideas would offer new avenues for spying on the British.

The only problem was obtaining the funds she’d need to get her enterprise started. If she decided to take in laundry she’d need larger pots and a stock of lye. If she chose to sell bread, there’d be dry ingredients to purchase, and with the British blockading the harbor, necessities like flour had risen in price. She’d also have to purchase many more Dutch ovens in order to make enough loaves to bring in a profit. She knew that no banker would loan her the money without any collateral, so that left her father. It was not a conversation she was looking forward to, but she hoped if she presented the idea logically, he’d see the potential and loan her some of their remaining funds.

The room finally warmed enough for her to move around, so she carefully removed from the fire the basin of water she’d warmed up for washing, and began her morning.

H
is breakfast done, Nicholas looked out at the foul weather from the window in his bedroom. By now the heavy spring rains had washed away any tracks Lady Midnight might have left behind, so he would have to concede her this round, and he didn’t like it. He’d have to wait for her to surface again, but there was no guarantee that she would. There’d be no drilling today either so he’d spend the day gathering the remainder of his father’s things so they could be donated to charity.

F
aith was in the kitchen getting breakfast ready when her father entered. “Good morning, Father. Did you sleep well?”

“I did, and yourself?”

“Yes,” she lied.

“Will Case will be joining us for breakfast.”

Faith went still.

“And so that you know, he’s made an offer for the inn. Price is fair and reasonable.”

“No!” she cried out in protest. “Father, let me try and help us first. If you would loan me a portion of whatever is left of Mother’s moneys, I’ll sell bread. Everyone says how fine it is, and I think I could sell to a steady clientele of soldiers.”

He barked a laugh. “What?”

Feeling desperate, Faith walked over to where he stood, “Father, listen. I’ll need to secure more flour and meal, and I’ll bake from sunup to sundown to put us above water again if need be, but please, let me try.”

He looked at her as if she were someone he’d never seen before. “You want me to make you a loan to sell bread?”

“Yes. Think about it. If I work hard I can do this.”

“No.”

“But—”

“No. Will’s offered me a fair price and the contracts will be signed. And because you’ll be in need of a home, I’m giving him your hand in marriage, which as your father is my right.”

Her eyes went large. “I will not be his wife!”

“You have no choice!”

“I will not be his wife!” she repeated forcefully.

“Elizabeth does not want you in our new home!”

She froze. “What? Elizabeth who!”

“Elizabeth Sutter.”

She couldn’t believe her ears.

“We’ll be getting married in two weeks’ time.”

Faith was speechless. There were so many conflicting emotions streaking across her mind, she couldn’t have spoken had she desired to. She now knew why he’d kept Elizabeth’s name a secret. Faith would have never approved of him courting the vain and questionably chaste seventeen-year-old.

“I want more children, Faith—a woman who’ll care for me in my old age, and Elizabeth offers me that.”

“Are you in love with her?”

“No, but she’s young and beautiful and will grace my table.”

“So I am to marry Will so that you may take your new bride?” she asked, outraged.

“You make it sound so harsh.”

Faith looked away, her lips pressed. When she thought she could speak calmly, she faced him again and said emotionlessly, “I wish you and Elizabeth every happiness but I will not marry Will Case.”

That said, she turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and countered angrily, “You will do as I say.”

She looked down at his hand and then up at his face. “You would sell me like a barrel of cod so that you can get between Elizabeth’s thighs?”

He slapped her and she tumbled to the floor.

“How dare you speak to me that way! You will honor my offer to Will, or you will leave this house immediately, you ungrateful child!”

Faith got to her feet. She had been disrespectful, but she was not going to be sold like a slave or a mindless beast. “I’ll get my things.”

“You leave here with nothing! The clothes on your back is all I’ll allow!”

She stopped at the doorway and looked back. She had never seen him so angry, but she was angrier. She also realized that he didn’t believe she’d leave. He appeared certain that his ultimatum would scare her so badly that she’d surrender and stay, and that increased her anger. Without another word, she turned on her heel, exited the kitchen, and headed for the front door. When she snatched it open, the force of the wind and rain almost snatched it back.

Her father came running behind her. “If you leave here, don’t return, Faith Kingston! Ever!”

She stepped outside and didn’t look back.

The heat of her anger carried for the first ten minutes and then the weather began to take its toll. With no cape, the stinging rain had her thin skirt and blouse plastered to her body in no time. Sleet stung her face and cheeks, and mixed with her tears to form little crystals of ice on her eyelashes, her nose, and the corners of her lips. Her plan had been to walk to Charity and Ingram’s. They didn’t have room to house her for an extended stay, however, she hoped she could stay until Blythe returned, but as she walked into the howling wind and became colder and wetter, and her steps slowed, and her limbs began to numb and ache, she realized she’d likely succumb to the elements before she reached their home.

Sheer will propelled her forward. As she made her way she prayed she’d see a wagon or someone passing on the road but there was nothing but the elements. A part of her deemed herself a lunatic for making this decision, but no part of her wished to have remained at home to marry Will Case, so she wearily plodded on feet that she could no longer feel.

After what seemed like an eternity of frigid rain and battering winds, she didn’t know how long she’d been walking. The only certainty was a deep longing to simply stop, collapse, and let the fates have their way because she couldn’t go any farther. She was soaked and frozen . . . The ice in her eyes had rendered her blind and she had no idea where she was, who she was, or where she was going. With the last of her senses she saw a house ahead and knew if she didn’t seek help there she would surely die.

N
icholas was inside sorting the items of clothing he’d be donating when he happened to glance out of the window and saw a woman slowly collapse in the road by his front gate. Alarmed, he ran downstairs. Ignoring the stinging rain and wind, he scooped her up and dashed back inside.

Breathing from anxiety and exertion he looked down at the pale, ice-crusted face and his eyes widened with recognition and fear. “Faith!” he called, jostling her gently. She was as unmoving as the dead.

“Faith!” Her limp body felt like a block of ice in his arms. Taking the stairs two at a time, he placed her gently on the bed, then dragged some of pelts he slept on as close to the fire as he dared. Kneeling beside her, he gently removed as much of the ice from her eyes and face as he could.

“Faith!” he called anxiously. He placed his ear on her icy wet blouse and prayed her heart was still beating. It was, albeit faintly. He had a hundred questions or more about what she was doing out in the weather with no cape, but he had to set them aside. He needed to get her dry and warmed as quickly as possible.

First he had to get her out of her wet clothing. Everything she had on was frigid and soaked. He could have debated how to go about it in a way that might have preserved her reputation and modesty, but there wasn’t time. If he didn’t undress her, her body would never warm enough to survive. Tight-lipped with concern, he dragged the sodden garments away from her cold skin and briskly dried her feet and limbs with a heavy blanket from the bed. The firelight danced over her nudity, providing the perfect backdrop for a tryst, but that was the furthest thing from his mind. His only concern was getting her dry and warm. Once done, he fetched a second blanket from the bed, and moving her as if she were made of the King’s crystal, gently wrapped her inside. Placing her down again, he covered her with the bed quilt and then the heaviest bear pelt he owned. It was all he knew to do, then he sat on the floor to watch and wait.

Later, as silence filled the room and the weather continued to rage outside, Nicholas allowed himself a moment to wonder over the whys of her appearance. When he first picked her up out on the road she looked like she’d been washed up on the beach by the sea. Why wasn’t she dressed for the weather? Had she been set upon by ruffians and her cape stolen from her? He supposed it made no sense to waste his thoughts on speculations because he had no answers. Was her father out searching for her? Nicholas thought he should probably ride over and apprise Kingston of the situation, but he was afraid to leave her alone. Because it was improper for an unmarried woman to consort with a man outside her family, there might be ramifications if Kingston called foul and word got out, but it had been either leave her to die or bring her inside and offer his aid. Surely a loving father would see the rightness in that decision.

However, a nagging feeling Nick couldn’t name made him hesitate over the decision to speak with Kingston. Although he had no answers as to how Faith came to be in such dire straits, he thought he’d wait to hear her explanation first.

Three hours later, she began to stir. Nicholas, eating a bowl of rabbit stew, set it aside and walked over to where she lay beside the fire. Eyes still closed, she was moaning and attempting to pull off her blankets but didn’t appear to possess the strength.

“Faith,” he called softly as he knelt beside her and gently stroked her sweat-dampened brow. She was burning up with fever.

“I won’t marry him,” she protested weakly. “I won’t!”

“Faith,” he echoed more urgently. He had to get her fever down. Placing a kiss on her forehead he hurried down to the kitchen.

He spent the rest of the day and night heating water to sponge her down, talking to her softly, and easing her up so he could offer her spoonfuls of bark tea to calm the fever. He repeated the ministrations over and over; urging her to fight and telling her how proud he was of her when she took the tea, even though she didn’t appear to hear a thing.

But he kept it up and when he was ready to drop, he crawled onto the pelt, dragged her back against the heat of his body, and slept.

F
aith opened her eyes and peered around.
Where am I?
She moved to rise but was laid low by a surprising lack of strength. Lying there and breathing harshly, she pondered that for a moment and glanced around the unfamiliar room. Nicholas sound asleep in a chair startled her and widened her eyes. Filled with alarm she frantically surveyed the dark room again.
Where am I?
She was still so weary, her eyes began closing.
Maybe it’s just a dream.
How long she drifted off she didn’t know, but when her eyes opened again, he was still in the chair; however, this time he was awake and watching her. Seated in the firelight, he looked like a king at rest and his expression was impossible to decipher. His long-sleeved shirt was partially undone, revealing a small vee of bare throat and chest. His face was unshaven.