Rebel Enchantress (12 page)

“I’ve got a barn full of furniture and linens I don’t know what to do with,” Eli added.

The worms and moths will take care of it for you” someone said with a chuckle.

“If you can’t sell it, can’t use it, and it might die or be eaten up by insects, why did you take it?” Nathan asked.

Every man in the room turned to him as though he’d spoken heresy.

“Hell, you can’t let people keep owing you money.”

“You’ve got to collect sometime.”

The man’s an idiot.”

“What do you expect from a Redcoat?”

“You mean to let yours go?”

“Of course not,” Nathan answered, seemingly unaffected by the contempt that greeted his question. “I merely wondered why you bothered to take anything that wasn’t to your advantage.”

“It was owed to me, and I was damned well going to take it,” Noah said pugnaciously.

“We didn’t have any trouble selling it until they started closing the courts.”

“But we never got a decent price, even then.”

“You can’t just do nothing.”

“I don’t mean that you should,” Nathan explained patiently, “but they’ll have a hard time paying their debts without their livestock and tools. They certainly can’t do it from inside a debtor’s prison. Speaking for myself, I’d rather they fed their own livestock.”

“Me, too,” Asa said, but voices clamored for immediate action to stop the Shaysites and protect the courts so what had been confiscated could be sold.

Delilah was furious. She didn’t dare allow herself to look up. Even her surprise at Nathan’s words wasn’t sufficient to subdue her fury. She kept her gaze focused on the empty mugs held out to her. She was embarrassed, too, that an Englishman, rather than her own countrymen, should be the only one to show some humanity and common sense.

“Most of these people are subsistence farmers,” Colonel Clarke explained. They don’t clear any more ground than they have to, and they don’t plant any more crops than they must to keep going from year to year”

“We’d all be better off if they moved west. Let them run off the Indians and open up the new land.”

“It’s about all there’re good for.”

“Deceitful, shiftless lot. That’s what I say,” added Noah.

“I can’t think why we ever fought a war for them.”

“So they can go on having daughters like this lass,” one man said, making a futile attempt to pat Delilah’s behind.

That was too much. Caught in the process of filling a mug, Delilah spun around so quickly she spilled half the ale over the offending speaker and the rest over two other men, a chair, and a large part of an Aubusson rug. She slammed the empty pitcher down on a Queen Anne drop-leaf table.

“Most of you didn’t lift a finger in the war,” she said, including the whole room in one all-encompassing gesture. “You stayed safely in your store, Noah Hubbard. You made sure you extracted the full price for everything you sold to the soldiers, but you never so much as lifted a musket yourself.”

“I suppose I didn’t fight?” asked Colonel Clarke.

“Your company fought bravely, but you made sure you were well away from the hottest action.
I know everything you did,”
Delilah declared when Clarke tried to interrupt. “My father fought in your company. He had little else to talk about while he lay dying of his wounds.”

Clarke’s face suffused with blood.

“But your uncle was the worst of all,” Delilah said, turning on Nathan. “He sold anything he could to both sides—spoiled food, stolen medical supplies, weapons, domes, boots, anything he could lay his hands on. He didn’t care who needed it, only who could pay the most.

“All the while these
deceitful, shiftless
farmers you’re so afraid of gave their lives, and their sons’ lives, so we could all live free. And what did they get? Reuben got three hundred dollars in script which was only worth ninety dollars when he tried to buy some land. My father got two wounds which killed him. What did the rest of us get out of it?” she swept on relentlessly. “Higher taxes to pay the interest on your bonds. Debts when we couldn’t pay the taxes. Our property taken away when we couldn’t pay the debts. You won’t be content until you have everything.”

“I warned you not to come back,” Nathan whispered over the hubbub which greeted Delilah’s angry tirade.

“I didn’t want your guests to get thirsty,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I would hate them to be chilled during their ride home.”

“Is that why you spilled the pitcher over Mr. Pickering, Mr. Clinton, and Mr. Howe? I believe Mr. Prentiss escaped only because the pitcher was empty.”

“I did that?” she asked. She stared in surprise at Nathan. She could hardly believe her eyes. His lips twitched, and his eyes danced with suppressed merriment.

“I believe you were upset over something Mr. Pickering said.”

“Did he make a remark about daughters?”

“I’m afraid he did.”

Delilah was looking at Nathan now. It was almost as though he were talking only to her.

Then she swung around to face Otis Pickering, and the man visibly shrank from her. “Then I’m not sorry.”

“I didn’t think you would be. But Mr. Pickering does need to dry off.”

“"I’ll bring some towels.”

“Maybe you should ask Lester to do that. He knows where they are kept.”

“But-”

“I’m certain Mrs. Stebbens needs your help. You know, Lester’s not very good with crockery.”

Lester had never dropped anything in his life, and Nathan was aware of that.

“You don’t wish me to bring more ale?”

“My needs are quite adequately provided for, but why don’t you ask Mr. Pickering?”

“You think he would like more?”

“No, but it would be polite to ask.”

“Sir, you’re making a mockery of us!” Colonel Clarke suddenly exclaimed.

“On the contrary,” Nathan said, the sparkle vanishing from his eyes. “I’m attempting to treat you with exactly the same degree of consideration you have accorded Miss Stowbridge.”

Delilah was pleased to see that several of the men looked abashed. One even turned red in his embarrassment.

“You may retire,” Nathan said to Delilah. “Tell Lester I require him immediately.”

A smile lightened Delilah’s features the minute the doors closed behind her, but her lightheartedness didn’t last long. It had been exhilarating to tell those posturing faint-hearts they weren’t fooling anybody. It was wonderful to share a joke with Nathan. It was even more wonderful to know he was much more understanding than she had guessed, but she had gotten herself thrown out of the drawing room again and she hadn’t learned a tiling for Captain Shays. She didn’t even know what they were talking about.

Delilah spent the next hour helping Mrs. Stebbens finish up in the kitchen, enduring a long harangue from Lester on her behavior—with more emphasis on his being required to clean up the ale than on her pouring it over the guests—and trying to figure out how she could get back inside the parlor.

As soon as her work was finished, she bade Lester and Mrs. Stebbens good night and went upstairs. A thin ribbon of tight shone under Serena’s door. Priscilla’s room was dark.

Delilah changed into a dark brown gown without frills and hurried back downstairs. She tiptoed to the drawing-room door and put an ear to the keyhole. She could hear people talking, but she couldn’t understand their words. She’d have to think of something else. Just as well. She couldn’t think of any acceptable explanation for her actions if someone found her.

She would have to go outside and see if she could listen at one of the windows. The weather had turned cool, but with the heat of so many bodies and candles in the drawing room, she doubted all the windows would be closed.

She started to go toward the back of the house, but heard Lester moving around in the pantry, so she tiptoed back down the hall and carefully turned the handle of the front door. It opened without a creak.

The full moon made it impossible to hide. She crouched down, keeping her body close to the house, and moved toward the first window. It was closed. So was the second. Her only hope now was the window at the side of the house, but a large thornbush stood at the corner.

Deciding that if she was going to be caught, she’d better be on her feet, Delilah walked around the bush as if she were just wandering around outside after eleven o’clock, then dropped to a crouch again.

Light poured from the open window. The speaker stood so near she could hear every word.

“What we’ve got to do is get somebody inside their organization,” Lucius Clarke was saying. “In addition to knowing their plans, we need the names of their leaders, the people they listen to.”

“Do we know any of them yet?” someone asked.

“I’ve got a list here,” Lucius said, holding up a piece of paper, “but I doubt I’ve got everyone. Pass it around. If you know of anybody, add his name to the list.”

“It’s all well and good to know the leaders,” someone else put in, “but what can we do to them?”

“If they owe a debt they can’t settle, we can put them in jail. Trent here holds a note on Stowbridge.”

“His sister’s working it off now,” Nathan pointed out.

“You can find a reason to get rid of her if you want to,” Clarke said impatiently. “Say she’s lax or you caught her stealing. Hell, you could even say she tried to crawl into your bed.”

Delilah gasped. Her first impulse was to climb through the window and punch Lucius Clarke in the face. Was there nothing these men wouldn’t do to collect their money?

“If any man made such a statement,” Nathan said in a dangerously quiet voice, “I should feel compelled to knock him down.

Delilah could hardly believe her ears. This was the third time this evening that Nathan had come to her defense. If he defended her, would he defend her family as well? She doubted it, especially if he discovered Reuben was one of the leaders. He’d be more likely to be angry because Reuben had repaid him by turning against him. She knew he was determined to collect all the money owed him—he had told her so several times—but maybe he wouldn’t go to the same lengths as the others.

Still, all this was supposition, a waste of time. She needed to know who was on that list. She also needed to know what they were planning to do. More importantly, if Lucius Clarke found out Reuben was one of Shays’s most trusted lieutenants, could he force Nathan to put him in jail?

“What’s the governor going to do?” Asa Warner asked.

“Governor Bowdoin has written to all the sheriffs ordering them to call out the militia,” Lucius said.

“That won’t be any good,” Noah Hubbard declared. “Every time they come face to face with the regulators, they turn their backs and go away.”

“Got too many relatives among them” someone pointed out.

“the militia captains are scared of their own shadows,” said another.

“He’s ordered them to shoot if they have to” Lucius said.

His words brought silence. So far no one on either side had fired a shot. Firing on the regulators would mean war.

“He’s preparing a riot act to be read to them before anything happens,” Lucius continued. That ought to make some of them back down.”

“But if they don’t?”

Then we shoot.”

“Has anyone met with the farmers to listen to their grievances?” Nathan asked.

Everyone stared at him.

They wrote the governor, but he didn’t waste time replying.”

“Why not?”

“You don’t talk with rabble like that,” Clarke exploded. “They’re too stupid to understand anything beyond their farms. Hell, they wouldn’t be in this mess if they could learn to live more economically.”

Delilah’s fingers curled into claws. If she ever got her hands on Colonel Lucius Clarke, she would …

“It’s possible their complaints are reasonable,” Nathan persisted in a cool, controlled way that was apparently beginning to irritate the men in the room as much as it heartened Delilah. “You really can’t say, can you, until you know what they are?”

“You ought to keep quiet and listen” Noah exploded. “You don’t know anything about these people. Damn, you can’t even talk right.”

“In England everybody knows where he belongs,” Lucius Clarke said, almost in the manner of an exasperated teacher explaining a problem to a witless student. “It’s not the same over here. These people think they have a right to do anything they want.”

“I have noticed that,” Nathan replied. He grinned to himself; he was thinking of Delilah.

“We’ve wandered from the point,” Asa Warner said when he saw both Lucius and Noah turn angry eyes on Nathan. “Our question is what to do now. We can work on a cure after we have things under control.”

“I say the courts meet a day before the announced date,” Tom Oliver suggested.

“It’s worth a try,” Lucius admitted.

“But we’ve got to keep after those leaders,” Noah insisted. “If we can get them in jail, maybe even hang a few, this revolt will disappear like it never was.”

“Somebody’s got to keep the list,” Lucius said. “I’m on my way to Boston and then Newport and Providence.”

“I’ll keep it,” Noah volunteered.

“We need someone closer to Springfield” Asa Warner said. “We can’t always be running fifty miles just to add a name to the list.”

“How about Trent?” asked Tom Oliver. “He’s close enough, and we all know where he lives.”

“We know too little about Nathan to trust him,” one man said.

Another contradicted him. “It’s foolish to think he would join the rebels and rob himself.”

Everyone had some family connection with the insurgents, and the others weren’t sure who could be relied on to put down every name turned in. Nathan had no reason to withhold any name.

“Can you guarantee its security?” Noah demanded. He wanted the list, but no one trusted him to do am/dung not directly related to making more money for himself.

“I’ll keep it locked in my desk,” Nathan offered. If I’m not here, you can leave a message with my aunt. No one can doubt her willingness to remember every name you give her.”

“If we’re done, I’ve got to be going” Noah said, his disappointment obvious. “I’ve got a long ride ahead.”

The other men quickly excused themselves, and within minutes Nathan was at the door bidding Asa Warner goodbye.