Embrace of the Enemy (Winds of Betrayal) (25 page)

There have been a few developments that now will allow their safe return to
Williamsburg, which has been the objective. Captain Lanson will undertake the venture and should be there by the time you arrive. I can well understand there are arrangements you'll need to make. Your father-in-law, Joseph Gannon, is no longer a threat, having not long since met his demise.

Furthermore, your sister, Hannah, has been found. Captain Lanson can fill you in on the details upon your return. Know though, it was put out that your sister has died, which we believe
will be the safest in her interest at this time. But she is out of New York and is safe. Your commander will have the necessary papers for your leave.

Your friend,

Major Benjamin Tallmadge

* * * *

Sleet turned into rain as Jonathan trudged on upon his horse. He was fortunate to have been able to obtain the horse for the journey. He hunched his shoulders to drive the weather from his weary body, not much longer before he would reach Williamsburg. A month had been granted to him to set his matters in order. He didn't question. He knew of few others who had received such leaves. Over two years had passed since he last set foot in the home he had grown up in.

No longer would his father, or most of the family, be there to greet him. The thought depressed him further. At times reality had seemed easy to push aside without dealing with the facts on his deployment. The deaths that had devastated him so were words, not the cold hard reality he would now have to face. The rain had lightened, but he had only one stop to make before he finished his journey.

On the outskirts of Williamsburg, to the side of the Presbyterian Church lay the cemetery. He halted his tired horse and tied it to the fence that surrounded the graves. A gray mist was in the air. He walked slowly over to the grave sites and markers of his loved ones, ignoring the damp and freezing rain. Well aware that they only had markers for his father and brother. Their bodies had never been, nor would ever be, recovered.

He had no concept of how long he stood there. He knelt down beside his father's marker. His eyes stared, but his mind saw his father's face, his smile. He saw a different time
.

Standing upon the steps of
the house, his father scrunched his face at his youngest son as he brought in another wounded animal, a small bird haven fallen out of its nest. He shook his head. “Jonathan, how many times have you brought one animal in after another? It's a wild thing and won't accept help from you.”

“But, Father, I can't sit by. I have to try. It will die if I do nothing,” Jonathan defended his actions.

“That is all one can ask, I suppose. To try.”

I'm trying, Father. I am,
Jonathan thought.
But I don't know what is best anymore, Father. I have tried to honor your memory. It's so hard, Father, but I won't quit. In this I promise you, Father. I'll never quit.

The rain ceased by the time he mounted back up. Drenched and gritty,  he had ridden for two straight days to make it home. The sun had begun to set as he turned the corner of Duke of Gloucester Street.

From the looks of the town not much had changed since his departure, but for Jonathan, everything had changed. Now Patrick Henry served as governor, a far cry from Dunmore.

Jonathan fought back the water swelling in his eyes as he caught view of his home.

A fear swirled within him. He hadn't seen his son since his departure up North. Would the boy remember him? He found he couldn't knock upon the door, standing, as a visitor, uncertain upon the doorsteps.

He heard sounds from within, inarticulate sounds.

Slowly Jonathan turned the handle of the door he had once dashed through without a second thought. The wind helped and whipped the door open wide.

Jonathan entered, shutting the door behind him. He turned, soaked and disarrayed, to the silence and stares of the inhabitants within the drawing room.

Lydia sat upon the floor with little William in her lap. A smile blossomed on her face. She held up his small hands to help the young one stand. “Look, William. It's your Papa. I told you he was coming. It's Papa.”

With only a little prodding, the child toddled over with a proud smile upon his small face as if he knew his father hadn't seen him walk. He repeated, “Pa-pa, pa-pa.”

Jonathan's eyes held to his son. He leaned down and picked up his child. He hugged him as tightly as he could, forgetting the people around him. Little William returned it with as much furor as his father, placing his little arms around his father's neck. Jonathan’s heart swelled with a bevy of emotions. Sadness, emptiness, and pain replaced by a surge of joy and hope he hadn’t known in such a long time.

* * * *

“I have heard well your bravery, Jonathan. But I'm glad to see you back,” Lanson stated as he put another log on the fire. “Will you care to join me in a drink?”

Jonathan, refreshed after he changed, shaved and had a warm meal. He had watched his son fall asleep.

The irony of the situation wasn't wasted upon him. Lanson was waiting on him within his own home. Jonathan nodded politely and accepted a glass of Madeira. He sat in the seat closest to the fire. A comfort he hadn't experienced in quite a while.

His mind wandered to the troops he had left a few days hence at
Washington's quarters, a place called Valley Forge. Washington's force had been soundly defeated at Brandywine Creek, lost Philadelphia, and when Washington struck back at Germantown, the attack fell short of its objective. Although at one point the possibility of success had been within their grasp, the fog and confusion about battle orders lead to a disaster.

Jonathan had only a brief stay at the encampment, before his journey home. The well-worn army had made camp in the driving December wind. Most men had no better than rags for warmth to survive the winter ahead. He had heard rumors of
a shortage of supplies, which he didn't doubt. Jonathan foresaw many a problem ahead, but right now at this moment his son was his only concern.

Lanson stepped back over to the fire. He propped his foot upon the hearth. “
Lydia and her father have retired for the night so we can discuss all that has occurred.”

Jonathan concealed his surprise at Lanson's familiarity with
Lydia's name behind a bland expression. He turned his attention instead to matters at hand. He had questions only Lanson could answer. He listened well to Lanson’s  tale. The discussion lasted long after midnight. Lanson explained the events in great detail. Jonathan bit his bottom lip. His heart wrenched for his sister.

“There's no way we can bring her home?”

“With her health and the winter moving in, I wouldn't recommend it. Major Tallmadge has assured me he knows the family personally. She's within good hands, but even if she was well enough to travel, the agreement at the moment is for her stay within British territory. But if there is any indication the British are reneging upon the agreement, she will be swiftly taken across the Sound into Connecticut.”

“What do you know of where she resides?” Jonathan asked.

“At first the agreement was she was to stay with the Arnett’s, but due to circumstances I'm not exactly sure of, she's staying with the Cooper's. Giles Cooper owns a tavern and a general store in a small village of Setauket on Long Island. Although British occupied, they are close to the Sound. The danger to Hannah seems to have passed with the death of your uncle and Gannon. We received word of your grandfather passing not long since aboard the Jersey. I doubt he had  an easy death. The only one we don't have solid evidence of his death is your cousin, Georgie Boy, but he's believed to have been severely injured and it's doubtful he could have survived. I believe, Jonathan, that this chapter is behind us.”

“I can communicate with Hannah?”

“But of course. I can arrange it with Major Tallmadge,” Lanson paused. “Much has happened, but now it's on to the future and the fight at hand. I realize that you were given time to handle your affairs, but I have been giving much thought to them as well.”

Jonathan sat still, bewildered by the statement. “I have to come to some decisions, yes.”

Lanson uncomfortably broke in. “That's what I would like to discuss with you.”

Lanson coughed to clear his voice and straightened his waistcoat. He awkwardly began, “I understand you
still want to stay for the duration….”

Jonathan nodded as his eyebrows rose slightly.

“Your cousin, Matthew, has had a lot on him with trying to run the store and rebuild the plantation. Lydia's father has helped, but with his own health bad, has found it hard to deal with. I understand you gave him part of the shop for keeping it running,” Lanson swallowed. 

“Yes, I understand the arrangement,” Jonathan said, trying to help Lanson along.

Lanson nodded. “My proposal is for myself to buy out Matthew's part and take over the shop myself. Before the war I ran a small store. I have already resigned, for my part, within the army. I have reached the age of forty-three and have found I have done it for too long. Of course, I will do whatever I can to support our cause and if needed wouldn't hesitate,” Lanson rambled and took a deep breath. He blurted out, “I would like to ask for your blessing, too, for I have asked Lydia to become my wife.”

Upon his declaration, Jonathan burst out into laughter and immediately regretted it. Lanson stood with resolute face. Jonathan stared at him. “I'm sorry, Lanson. You're serious?”

“Extremely so. I have never asked a lady to marry me before, and, for God knows what reason, she seems willing. Her father has given his blessing to the union, but it's important for Lydia to have yours.” Lanson walked around the couch, turned and faced Jonathan, who sat silently.

“
Lydia has a special bond with your son. I believe it's her intention to keep him for you during the time you're away. And she is committed to that. If you find fault with me, helping raise your boy, I'll withdraw my proposal.”

Jonathan waved his hand to stop Lanson from going on. “Please, enough. You know
Lydia is only a Corbett by marriage and in that she isn't prone to the impulsive behavior of some of us Corbett's. I have always found her to be sensible. My brother loved and adored her. I have known her for as long as I can remember and love her as a sister. I only wish her happiness. As for my son, I know no other I would entrust him to, having already shown the ability to do so.”

Jonathan stood and extended his hand to Lanson. “It's I who am honored you would undertake such.”

Lanson, accepted his hand in obvious relief.

* * * *

Gratification mixed with an obscure sense of apprehension. Jonathan attended the simple ceremony held within the drawing room. Only Lydia's parents, little William and Jonathan attended on this Christmas Eve. With all that had happened it was thought best to keep the ceremony quiet instead of having the couple wait longer. War had given everyone a real sense that there are times one has to take for they may never happen again.

William thought it the grandest of things, for all the people he loved most were there. There had been no repercussions from his mother's death for the poor little one hardly knew her. Immediately after the pastor pronounced them husband and wife, William wiggled out of his father's arms and raced over to
Lydia as fast as his little legs would carry him.

A nice picture.
Lydia held William with Lanson by her side. The idea of their marriage had worn well with Jonathan after his initial shock. Looking upon them, from their manner, they seemed satisfied with their arrangement. Jonathan quietly withdrew from the happy occasion into his father's study. Most had been left as his father had it when he was alive.

Looking
out the window, this Christmas would hold no snow, but frigid temperatures. Guilt surfaced, for he knew his unit was out amongst this weather. A sound from behind made him turn, he found Lydia standing with a sword in her hand.

“I'm glad to have found you alone, Jonathan,” she said softly. As she handed the sword to him, he immediately recognized the object. “I have been waiting until Christmas.”

The sword his father had given him before his departure. He had presumed it lost, having left it in Philadelphia.

“I wouldn't have left it. I knew well its importance. In honesty, I remember very distinctly William being jealous of you getting the sword. Your father was very proud of you, you know. We all were, and are. You're very dear to me, Jonathan. We'll well look after William as our own.”

Jonathan, his eyes still upon the sword, said quietly, “I have no doubt.” Looking upward toward her, he added. “William would have only wanted your happiness.”

Lydia
's eyes warmed with the mention of his name, “I'll never love another as I loved him. A part of me died when he did. At one time, I didn't believe I had the strength to go on. Every morning I awoke and at night I slept with my dreams for that was all I had. Then you sent for me,” she paused. “It'll take time, Jonathan. Give all time.”

His expression contorted, and he fought to hide the pain. “It's different for you,
Lydia. You were well loved. Yes, he was taken from you cruelly, but—”