The 15th Star (A Lisa Grace History - Mystery) (14 page)

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Chapter 7 - Early Morning, August 24
th
, 1814

For the last four and half months Grace worked through her sorrow. Even stitches, unbalanced emotions and prayers. Rumors of the fighting some battles lost, some won, made her worry for her son. The British had been keeping a line of ships to enforce their trade embargo against the United States. Rumors were flying that British troops had landed and been spotted marching toward Washington. All Grace could do was sew and pray.

She no longer thought about running. She wanted to stay close. She thought up plans on how she could smuggle her son to keep him safe against the British. She had stopped praying for the Major to be killed. She knew deep down that the Major would do everything to keep her son, his son—safe. Her son was more important than her hate. God was using the person she hated most in the world to keep her son safe. Why had God put her in this position? Hadn’t she suffered enough? Oddly, letting go of her hate and praying for the Major’s safety so he could guard her son, gave her comfort. That man
would
resort to murder to keep her son safe. That was comforting, too.

***

There was shouting out in the streets. Grace put down her sewing and went out through the kitchen door. She saw Mrs. Bethany talking to one of the young boys and giving him a coin. He nodded and ran off as Mrs. Bethany walked back to meet Grace in the yard.

“
What’s happening Mrs. Bethany?” Grace asked. The street was busy with gathering groups of men and young boys shouting.

“
The British Navy ships have just passed the port way out at sea. An incoming merchant ship outraced them in. They appear to be heading further north. Once they land the fighting could come here or to Washington. We must prepare. By tomorrow the British will be on our shores. We will see fighting in the next two days. I must run in and tell Mrs. Pickersgill!”

Grace hurried after Mrs. Bethany back into the house. She sat back down in the parlor to finish her sewing. A few minutes later, Mrs. Pickersgill called her into her room.

“I’m sorry Grace, but with all the men arming themselves preparing for war, I have no choice.”

“
Ma’am?”

This order of flags is done for the troops guarding the capital. You must deliver them to General Winder or his troops. Take them in the direction of the White House immediately. If you don
’t run into the troops on the way, someone there will direct you to where you must go. You must deliver them before the British get there. I am sending you on our cart with the Devlin boy to drive. Hurry! Go now.”

Grace took the heavy bundle and placed it in a laundry basket, which she lifted into the back of the cart. She took her spare underskirt that was drying on the line and laid it on top, along with an apron. And a pair of Mrs. Bethany
’s under things. She could say she was delivering clean lady’s laundry if they were stopped by soldiers. Josh, the Devlin boy, was busy harnessing one of the older horses to pull the cart. “I’ll be right back,” Grace said to the boy.

She went down into the cellar and dug in the box of Mr. Pickersgill
’s things. The pistol. She held it in her hand feeling its cold weight. At night in her room, she’d sat up reinforcing the stitching on a new pocket she’d sewn into her dress, hidden in the folds, to conceal the weapon. She checked to make sure it was loaded then slid it in. She took the bag of extra shots and placed it in another hidden pocket. If she had to fight, she would. Not for her country, but for herself and her son.

Grace climbed upon the cart to sit next to the boy who was a few years younger than her.
“How long do you think before we get to the White House or see the troops?”

“
I’ll go as fast as we can. It may be a bumpy ride. I’m thinking we’ll be there before supper time. Wouldn’t it be exciting to meet the President? Or see some fighting?” Josh could barely contain his excitement. A chance to head into the excitement. An important delivery for the troops.

“
Just go fast. I don’t want to run into any troops.”

Josh laughed at Grace
’s fear.

They ran into militia along the way, but no sign of General Winder
’s troops. All the way into the city of Washington they heard shooting in the distance.

Josh asked,
“Should we head toward the shooting? Bound to be the General’s troops there.”

Grace shook her head no.
“Mrs. Pickersgill said to go to the White House. That’s where we’re heading. I’m sure some troops are there.”

A fine carriage passed them with a fancy lady inside accompanied by well-dressed men on horses.

“I think that may be Mrs. Madison, the President’s wife. I saw a drawing of her once.” Josh said.

Grace
’s stomach was rolling low with the rhythm of the cart. If the lady was leaving her house, they may run into fighting soon. The gunfire didn’t sound far away anymore, and Grace could make out the smell of smoke.

“
Look!” Off in the distance behind them, dark smoke was billowing. Something big like a building had been lit on fire.

“
Please hurry, Josh,” Grace said her anxiety rising every minute. The horse pulled their cart many blocks down Pennsylvania Avenue until they were directly in front of the White House.

Josh hopped out.
“I’ll find some of the servants around back. You go knock at the front Grace, in case no one’s around back.”

Grace walked up the steps. It looked deserted. No one was present to stop her. Shots echoed down the street from the fighting just a few blocks away as she went to the door and knocked. She thought she heard someone yell for her to come in, so she did. She walked back until she came across a boy of her coloring. He might have been slightly older than her. He was wearing nice clothes and was high on a ladder using a tool to loosen a painting from the wall.

“Can I help you?” he said not stopping in his work.

Grace curtsied out of habit all though the young man was not looking in her direction but rather concentrating on the work at hand.

“I’m to find the troops of General Winder to deliver some flags and standards from Mary Pickersgill. Do you know if any are here or where they maybe?”

“
There may be one or two out back, but they may have headed toward the fighting. Didn’t you hear the shots?”

“
Yes.” Grace went to leave.

“
What’s your name, girl?”

“
Grace. Grace Wisher.”

“
Well, Miss Wisher, nice to meet you. I’m Paul Jennings and I work for President Madison. I’m his personal servant. Can you hand me that knife?”

Grace looked to the side table. There was a large butcher knife on top. She took it and handed it to the young man on the ladder.

He took the knife and started to cut the painting out.

Grace gasped.

“I have to save the painting and I’ll never get it unscrewed before the redcoats get here. This picture is President Washington. They can have the White House, but they can’t have him.”

Just then Josh ran in,
“I found someone to take the flags! We need to leave now! The British are turning onto Pennsylvania Avenue!”

Paul climbed down the ladder and rolled the painting up.
“Get out of here! I’ve got my own horse out back. Travel safe!” he yelled over his shoulder as he headed out the back.

Josh and Grace headed out the front door. The cart was now empty of its basket. Looking down Pennsylvania Avenue, Grace could see the redcoats marching in an orderly fashion right towards where they were. They climbed in the cart and drove away to stay ahead of the troops. Once safely out of sight, they could turn down a side street and head home. A block down the road and turned back around, Grace could see more smoke from several fires lit around the town. They seemed to leave the homes standing, but official buildings seem to be lit.

As they left the city safely behind, Grace was on pins and needle the whole time. The guns firing made her jump. Not knowing exactly where the shots were coming from, but realizing they were close. The redcoats would be following after the cart as they marched toward Baltimore. Josh stopped once or twice along the way to report what they had seen to the local militia troops, namely the British marching to burn down the abandoned White House.

As they approached the city, the wind picked up and storm clouds formed overhead. If Grace didn
’t know better, she’d think God was angry at what the British were doing.

***

Everyone in town, growing up in a port city, knew this meant a wicked storm was brewing out at sea. The breeze was picking up. Once home, Grace helped Bethany secure the chicken hutch and put all the things that could blow around securely in the cellar. Later that evening, Bethany again had railed several young boys with her treats to come and report what was happening out in Washington and on the roads to Baltimore. “Off in the distance towards Washington,” the boys were reporting, “The sky is glowing from the fires. The Brits must be burning the town down to the ground.” The wind had picked up so much that the gusts were blowing loose pots and bits of loose fence down the streets. Rain came in waves. By midnight the household realized they were being hit by a strong Nor’easter or a hurricane as they were called by Grace back in the South.

“
Maybe the storm will stop the British. God is getting them for this,” Mrs. Bethany said as her and Grace were sitting in the kitchen listening to the wind blowing down the chimney, shaking the kettle back and forth. Bethany lit the lamp and kept extra coals on the fire to keep it from going out. She had to close the flue most of the way which made it jiggle back and forth sounding like a rusty bell trying to keep in tune with the whistling wind.

“
Maybe the storm is God’s wrath upon the British for defying his will,” Mrs. Mary said as Grace brought her a cup of coffee in the parlor. There was no thought of fleeing the city with such a wicked storm blowing outside. No one was sleeping tonight between the threat of the storm and the redcoats. Bags were packed so the household could leave at a moment’s notice.

“
I hope the hen house holds together in this wind,” Caroline added.

“
Now that would be a miracle,” Mrs. Mary answered and everyone laughed.

“
Don’t look so worried, Grace,” Mrs. Mary said. Grace couldn’t help but worry about what was happening with her son. There was no way to know if he was safe until the storm and the redcoats were gone.

The next morning the streets were a mess. Some half flooded with rain that could not drain. Tree limbs blocked roads and put holes in roofs. Some of the wood structures had suffered damage. Men came out with saws and wheelbarrows to clear the roads. Hammering could be heard on every block. Shingles on roofs were being patched as the sound of hammers hitting nails made an unusual drumbeat that echoed up and down the city streets.

Word came late that morning that the British troops had suffered casualties in the storm and were withdrawing. Washington still stood even though some of the public buildings and the White House had been burned to the ground. The British had not succeeded in taking Washington. All around town morale was boosted as everyone knew God had sent the storm that defeated the British.

“
What did I tell you girls?” Mrs. Mary said, vindicated.

“
How could the United States fail? We can’t! God is clearly on our side.”

Grace nodded in agreement and kept silently praying for the safety of the Major and her son. As long as her son was safe, that was all that mattered.

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Chapter 8 - Present Day

Keiko woke and turned off the alarm. She groaned, rolled out of bed, sat up, and waited for her eyes to adjust. She walked into the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on, went in the bath, and took a quick shower. The first thing she would do is head back and finish going through the second box she and Julian had found. Work was going to be complicated knowing he was in the building, wondering when she would run into him. As she finished getting dressed, her phone rang. Keiko didn’t recognize the number.

“
Hello?”

“
Where are you? I came in early and you weren’t here. I think this is the first day I’ve ever beaten you in.”

It was Julian.

“Well, you win. I just got out of the shower, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“
How ‘bout a late lunch today? We can discuss the letters you’ve found. I have another meeting but I should be done by one.”

“
Okay, I’ll see you then, bye.”

“
Bye.”

What was she doing? She shouldn
’t be encouraging him. She had no idea what his motivations were. But he knew they worked together. Keiko had never seen him date a coworker. Well, she had never seen him date anybody. No one had said he was a player, but no one had said he wasn’t either. What did she know about him? About his personal life? Nothing. At lunch, maybe she should make it clear it was a working lunch. But maybe that’s all he thought it was. He did suggest they talk about the letters. Well, there you have it. A working lunch between coworkers. She was still excited about the letters and seeing Julian for lunch. Keiko took an extra five minutes deciding what to wear. Black or black? Pants or a skirt? And an extra five to apply her makeup. First she would finish reading the letters, have lunch with Julian, then call the Flag House to make an appointment to see the Pickersgill letters. The day just couldn’t get any better.