The Sword of the Banshee (40 page)

Since her arrival over eighteen months ago, India had come to a full appreciation of what General Maxwell had meant when he said the Hennessey twins where the most dangerous and capable patriots in all the Continental Army. India had found their keen intuition for strategy and their exceptional intelligence-gathering skills bordering on the fantastic, even the occult. Paired with their eccentric flighty demeanor’s they were easily overlooked by the Crown, making them not only invisible but deadly partisan principals.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. One of the servants informed her that Mrs. McLane was downstairs waiting for her. India’s eyebrows shot up. She thought Emilee was missing the meeting tonight nevertheless she was pleased the young socialite had come. She liked the beautiful and chic Parisian immigrant. Emilee McLane was another Charleston resident who fit India’s profile of the Carolina Low Country personality. Born and bred for the fashionable salons of Paris, Emilee Dubonnet had entertained and been an intimate of the great French philosophers of the time, Diderot, Voltaire and Rousseau. Although she spoke openly about these liaisons, it was a mystery to everyone why she had left France abruptly, come to Charleston and married the wealthy Irishman Devlin McLane.

Although India had never met her husband, there was no question Emilee cared deeply for the man. Her voice changed when she spoke of him and her eyes softened. He had been in the north for months now, and Emilee missed him terribly. Travel during wartime was always dangerous, and India knew that Emilee was concerned for his safety.

Emilee looked up with a smile as India came down the stairs to greet her. “You must excuse me, Lady Allen. I did not mean to hurry you. At the last minute, I was able to attend,” she said with her thick French accent. She was dressed in an amber colored riding habit. A burgundy colored plumed hat was pinned jauntily to her fully dressed hair. The gown matched her tawny colored hair and eyes perfectly.

“I’m glad you came,” India replied. “We have much to discuss tonight. There is no question that the Crown in posturing for an assault in the South.”

The women walked along a brick walkway bordered with crepe myrtles to the back of the house by the kitchen and out toward the slave quarters. The moon was no longer visible as the sky began to fill with rain clouds.

The conversation between the women was light at first, mostly about events of the day, when Emilee said suddenly, “Lady Allen, forgive me. We French are much more outspoken than you English--”

India stopped and looked at her.

“We have been acquainted now for almost a year and you have never mentioned your late husband. I know you lost him years ago. Is it still so very painful for you to speak of him?”

India took a ragged breath and said, “I do not like to talk about him.”

She started to walk again, but Emilee continued. Catching up with India, the headstrong beauty continued, “You loved him that much.”

“No, I did not love him at all,” was India’s reply, as she walked.

Emilee hesitated then said, “Ah, this is the way in France. Women never love their husbands. In fact, I would be laughed out of Paris if they knew I was in love with my husband. It is considered very pedestrian.” She shrugged. “It was an accident. I did not want to love him but--” Emilee stopped. Glancing at India, she said, “There must have been someone once, you are—after all a woman.”

India said nothing for a long time, walking in silence then replied, “Not yet, I am still learning.”

*           *            *

A storm came through that night bringing fresh breezes over the countryside. The cool, crisp air made India sleep later than usual and when she came down to breakfast. Prudence and Penelope were just walking out the door.

“Do you need anything from town, dear?” Penelope asked, while she helped the driver pile dogs and trunks into the carriage.

“Nothing, thank you.”

“We are staying several days with our cousin, Reverend Daly,” Prudence said, as she lifted the hem of her diviner robe to step into the landau. “He is such a lovely man.”

India’s eyes widened. She wondered what Reverend Daly thought of the Druids. “Have a good time,” she said.

“Oh!” Penelope cried suddenly, as the rickety landau set off with a jerk. “I forgot to hang out the laundry.”

“I will take care of it, ladies,” India called after them. “Now go and have a good time.”

  “Thank you, dear!” they both called back in unison.

India tied her apron over her green gown and took her wide brimmed straw hat off the peg in the hall. She passed the kitchen which smelled of wood smoke and fried ham. It reminded her that she had had no breakfast. She took the path by the river to the laundry shed. Cast iron pots hung over fire pits for boiling clothes.

She looked up and down the waterway for Phineas thinking that he would be somewhere fishing down here with the other boys, but he was nowhere to be found. Just outside the shed, India found a large wicker basket full of wet laundry. She put it on her hip and walked to a flat area where the clothes line stood in the open sun by the river. Wild roses were clustered around the clearing, smelling thick and sweet.

She worked quickly, pinning the clothes to the line. The crisp white sheets snapped sharply in the breeze as she worked down the line. She finished most of the basket in no time. Her muscles growing stiff, India put her hands on her back, stretched and looked up at the blue sky. She took a deep breath and returned to her work. Suddenly, something caught her eye. She looked down the long row of sheets flapping in the wind. She had glimpsed something there. The wind blew a sheet back. It was Quinn Calleigh. He was standing at the end of the long column of clothes.

India froze, thinking she was dreaming.

In three long strides he was upon her, yanking her into his arms, kissing her lips, her face and her hair. “Oh, Quinn,” she cried. “It cannot be.”

India’s heart was in her throat. His arms were clutching her so tightly she couldn’t breathe, but she did not care. If this was real, Quinn was back and so was the ecstasy. He picked her up and whirled her around tangling her in the sheets. They staggered and almost fell. India’s knees were so shaky that if he let go of her, she would topple.

Laughing and breathless, Quinn said, “My God, I didn’t think I’d live to see you again.”

He had returned to his full weight, but there were dark rings under his eyes. Strain was showing on him. Only now, there was a depth and strength to his demeanor never present before.

He stepped back holding her at arm’s length and said, “I must look at you.” He ran his eyes over her and shook his head. “To see this lovely, willowy creature again--”

Catching her breath, India said, “Where have you been?”

“All over Georgia. In the hills, the back country, and with Clark at Vincennes.”

India clutched his arms and said, “You were in the Illinois Country? That explains your silence. Tell me you are staying.”

“For a short while,” he said pulling her close once more.

India could feel the hard muscles of his thighs and his chest pressed hard against her breasts. He kissed her slowly this time. She felt the moist vigor of his lips and the roughness of his whiskers on her chin.

Quinn’s joy was overwhelming. He wanted to run his hands over every part of India, he wanted to take her hands and dance her in circles, he wanted to hoot and throw his hat into the air. With India, he was home.

“Where is the boy?”

“Probably grooming the horses with his friends.”

He bent down and picked up her straw hat, handing it to her. “Let’s find him,” and they started to walk toward the stables. Immediately India noticed that he was dragging his foot.

She stopped and looked down at his leg. “Quinn, what happened?”

He took a deep breath and said, “It is something we will speak of later.”

Nodding, India changed the subject and started walking again. “The Hennessey twins mentioned they have met you on several occasions.”

“Ah, yes. The old girls are interesting, aren’t they? I have much to tell you about my involvement here.” He put his arm over her shoulders. “But that too we will speak of later.”

They found Phineas feeding the pigeons in the shade of an oak tree near the stables. “Mr. Calleigh!” he cried, running up to Quinn and throwing his arms around him.

Quinn picked him up and spun him around like he did India. “You’ve grown, lad. This isn’t as easy as it used to be!” and he put him down.

“Look at the pigeons. I have been taking good care of them.” Phineas exclaimed. He showed Quinn how clean he kept the cages and removed several of the birds for him to inspect.

“Good, good,” Quinn said. “Have you been sending them on any missions?”

“Yes, the Hennessey ladies use them,” he said excitedly. “They even have a few birds of their own. Look,” and he pointed out two cages on the end. “Here is a hen and her squab.”

India watched the two of them, her eyes shining. As if feeling her gaze, Quinn looked up from where he was squatting, grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. “Is there any food around here? This man is starved.”

The three of them went up to the kitchen where Odette gave them breakfast. When they finished, Quinn wiped his mouth, pushed his chair back and asked Odette, “Would you wrap some ham and cornbread up for us please? We are going to spend the afternoon at the river.”

“Of course, Mr. Calleigh,” Odette replied, wiping her hands on her apron.

Quinn took an apple from a wooden bowl, looked at Phineas and said, “Well, hurry up. Go get your fishing pole.”

The boy almost toppled a chair over racing out to find his pole.

Draping his arm over India’s shoulders, they walked down to the river. When they arrived at the stone arch bridge, Phineas was already fishing. They sat on the edge with their feet dangling watching the Ashley flow below them.

“This reminds me of our days on the mill bridge,” Quinn said lazily. “Do you ever come down here?”

India shook her head, looking over at the riverbank thick with pink and white kalmia and magnolias.

“Have you ever been down here?”

Again she shook her head.

“Well then, surely you and Phineas ride? It is so beautiful here.”

“No,” India said.

“What do you do for fun?” he exclaimed. “Or have I had no influence on you whatsoever?” He leaned close to her and asked, “Have you even smiled since I left?”

Trying to stifle a smile, she pushed away from him, pretending to be annoyed. “Contrary to what you may think, the sun doesn’t rise and set around Quinn Calleigh.”

“Hmm,” he said, taking an apple out of his pocket. Turning toward Phineas he roared, “I expect dinner tonight, boy. I like trout.”

Phineas saluted him.

The smile dropping from her face, India looked down at Quinn’s leg and asked, “What happened?”

He swallowed his bite of apple, sighed and said, “It never healed properly after my fall. The lack of nourishment at Valley Forge didn’t help.”

“Does it give you pain?”

He rubbed his forehead and murmured, “Very little.”

Quinn went back to eating his apple.

“Thinking about our days on the Brandywine kept me going all this time. Have you thought about me?”

“No,” India said.

Quinn looked at her sharply, and she started to laugh.

“What’s this?” he asked. “Levity? Mirth? Humor?” He threw his head back and guffawed. “Success! I have taught her to tease!” he announced, throwing his apple core in the river. Leaning over, he pulled her into a lusty kiss.

Phineas looked away, shaking his head. Life was good. He had his family back again.

*           *            *

Quinn left that evening to meet with his new sharpshooters in the area. India didn’t know what time he was returning, and when the clock struck midnight, she decided to go to bed. It had grown sultry again and she took her shift off, washed the perspiration off her body and slipped between the sheets. It took her a long time to unwind. She was struggling with her feelings about Quinn’s return. When he was near, she fell instantly under his spell. His wit and passion swept her away. India tossed over in bed. Emilee’s words haunted her, “You are--after all a woman.” 

Eventually she fell asleep but her rest was fitful. She woke up several times and decided at last to get up again. She pulled her long hair out from the back of her green and gold wrap and walked out onto the
gallery

There was a breeze and a crescent moon shone among the stars. India loved the view from her window, the moss covered trees, the little white arbor with the stone bench and the lake.

“It is late. Why are you up?”

Startled, India whirled around.

Quinn walked up to her. He had just arrived home and had been smoking on the gallery outside his room.

India tried to act indifferent to him. “I have been going over plans for raids.”

He leaned onto the railing with his elbows, still smoking. “Is that all?”