Faithfully Yours (25 page)

“Mother!”

Mistress Cromwell rushed in, her cap askew and her eyes filled with dismay. “I wish you had heeded me, Faith.”

“Heeded you about what?”

“This.” Her mother picked up the packet from the table and sighed. “I had hoped you would comprehend that I was giving this to you for Sebastian's own good.”

“You gave this to me?” Her knees folded, and she sat on the chest. “Why didn't you tell me that you were the one in the byre?”

“I was not certain you would be able to keep that truth to yourself. You have been torn apart by lying to your father. I have seen how you do not wish to be disrespectful to him, even though you cannot respect his beliefs when your friends are dying in this war.” She smiled sadly. “And, to be honest, I was sure you would guess as soon as your mind could focus on something other than your wedding. After all the many times I have told you and your sisters such silly stories in such silly voices, I had guessed you would recognize me.”

“I never thought
you
would be there.”

“I learned long ago that it is all right for a husband and a wife to not always agree.” Her mother yawned as she sat in a chair by the hearth. “You will learn, too.”

“If possible.”

“You must have faith, my daughter.” She smiled. “You were very young when your father fought against the French in western Pennsylvania, so you do not recall how many nights I waited alone, fearing that he would not return. But he did.”

Faith sighed as her mother tossed the packet back onto the table. “I hope Sebastian will.”

“You love him deeply.”

“With all my heart.”

“I saw the truth, Faith, soon after he arrived in our home. I knew you were falling in love with Sebastian. I was so pleased for you, but others saw your love for a British soldier very differently.”

“They no longer trusted me?”

Her mother's laugh sounded tired. “My dear child, no one trusts anyone now. For you to remain loyal to the crown and still provide food and clothing to the rebels was becoming too dangerous for you. You had to choose one side or the other. The time was past when you could look upon making your gloves and stockings only as helping your neighbors.”

“But you arranged for me to marry Sebastian when you were helping …” She pressed her lips closed. Her mother was right. She could not trust anyone now. Someone might be listening on the far side of the door.

“He has told your father that he will not be in Goshen much longer. When he returns to Philadelphia, he will take you with him. There, you will be safe.” She put her hand over her mouth and yawned again. “Adrat! I think I danced too much at your wedding, Faith. I am exhausted.”

Faith smiled gently. “You have been living a double life and preparing for my wedding. I think—Mother!” She jumped to her feet as her mother sagged in the chair.

Mistress Cromwell slid from the chair to collapse on the carpet. Faith tried to prop her head up, but it was impossible. It lolled like a rag doll's. Bending, she lifted her mother's hand. The beat of her heart was slow, but it was even. She must have been drugged. But with which powder? The one she had given Faith to put in Sebastian's wine, or the one that had made his men ill? Had her mother accidentally swallowed the powder? No, that made no sense. Someone had drugged her. Someone who did not trust her … or Faith.

Leaning her mother back against the chair, Faith rushed across the room and tugged on the bellpull that would ring in the kitchen in the cellar. Someone in the kitchen might know of an antidote to whatever was causing her mother to sleep.

The door opened.

“Come quickly,” she cried. “Mother is—”

“Just sleeping.”

Hearing a familiar voice she had not expected, Faith spun around to stare at Tom Rooke. He was leaning on a crutch, but she did not look at that. Her gaze was riveted on the gun in the hand of the man standing behind him. That man was a stranger.

“What are you doing here?” she gasped. “You should flee before the British find you again.”

“It is my plan that the British do find me again. Otherwise, how will I obtain the information I need to give to General Washington?”

“You are insane!”

“No, I am sane.” The crutch thumped against the floor as he hobbled toward her. Why didn't someone hear it and come?

With a pulse of fear, Faith wondered if everyone else in the house was asleep.

“Where is your
husband?
” He spat the word as if it were a curse.

“Looking for you.”

He scowled. “You were given herbs to make him sleep.”

Raising her chin, she regarded him steadily. It was as if she had never seen before how pinched his mouth was—and how the greed for power glowed in his eyes. “This is my wedding night, Tom Rooke. Do you think I wished my husband to
sleep
that away?”

Rooke shot a scowl at the other man, who chuckled. “Silence, Muellers. If she had done as she was instructed, this would be so much simpler.”

“For you to kill Sebastian here?” She shook her head. “I would not have allowed you to do that.”

“You?” He gestured with his head, and Muellers stepped forward to point the pistol at Faith. “Get dressed. We're leaving.”

“I will not leave here and help you murder my husband.”

Rooke growled, “You have the choice. Get dressed and come with us now, or—” He grabbed Muellers's arm, aiming the gun at her mother. “I don't want to have her killed—because she has been a good ally—but I will order her dead if you do not do as I tell you.”

Faith swallowed. Hard. “All right,” she whispered. “I will do as you ask.”

“Get dressed.”

She reached for her clothes, which were lying on the chest. When her fingers touched the sheaf of papers hidden beside them, she pushed the pages beneath her stiff petticoat. She frowned again at Rooke as she took her clothes to a screen that was set not far from the hearth.

“Hurry,” Rooke snarled when she disappeared behind it.

Faith wanted to tell him that she would hurry—she would hurry to get rid of the orders Colonel Hepburn had brought to Sebastian. Her mother had been wrong. Faith could not change her need to protect those she loved from the war. She must protect Sebastian now.

Crinkling her starched petticoat with one hand, she tossed the pages onto the near corner of the fire, which the men could not see from where they stood. She hooked her gown into place and tossed her cloak over her shoulders. Buttoning it, she stepped out from behind the screen.

“What are you doing?” Faith cried, although she knew what Rooke's companion was looking for as he opened drawers and doors and pulled out everything in them.

“Where did your husband put his orders?” Rooke demanded.

“The last time I saw him with them was when his colonel gave them to him downstairs.” She was surprised that was the truth.

Muellers cursed.

“Where are they?” Rooke shrieked.

Faith recoiled, backing into the table. As everything on it scattered around her, she replied, “I told you the truth. Why won't you listen to me?”

“Because you are lying.” Muellers held out a piece of paper that was charred on the edge. As Faith gasped, he said, “The rest of them are too blackened to read, but this page has the colonel's signature on it. She must have destroyed Kendrick's orders.”

Rooke motioned with his head again, and Muellers seized her arm. “No matter,” Rooke said with a sudden smile. “Major Kendrick will tell us himself what his orders are when he comes for you, Faith, and you will have done your duty by luring him into a trap.”

“I will not help you.” She grasped the edge of the table and tried to pull away, but halted when Muellers jabbed her side with his pistol. “Don't ask me to help you. He is my husband.”

“Not much longer.” He laughed. “You can thank me later for making you a widow.”

Eighteen

“Did you at least note in which direction they went?”

Sebastian listened to Osborne interrogating the guards who had been watching over Rooke. Coming to his feet from where his brother was still groggy and fighting sleep in the snow, Sebastian said, “It does not matter how many times you ask that question, Osborne. They have told you in every possible way that they saw nothing.” He picked up a pewter mug and sniffed it. “I would say they were unable to take note of anything once they were drugged.”

Weaving as he struggled to keep from falling, Osborne said, “The rebels must have done this.”

“I think that is obvious.”

Gaylord pushed himself to his feet. “Give us a chance to make our brains work again, Sebastian. If you had swallowed this potion …” His eyes narrowed. “Why were you excluded? I can think of no reason but that your wife is mixed up in this.”

“Do not accuse Faith unless you have proof.” When his brother started to remonstrate with him, Sebastian went on. “We will have time later to find out how this was done so effectively. Now, we have to find Rooke and stop him and his allies from doing whatever they have planned.”

A soldier appeared out of the falling snow. “Major?” The soldier saluted, then held out his hand. “I was told to deliver this to you.”

Sebastian swore as he took the glove balanced on the soldier's hand. He could not mistake the bright red stripe that was knit across the palm. Faith had made this.

“Who gave this to you?” he asked.

“A boy. He could not have been more than six years old. Face covered with freckles.”

That described Mistress Mertz's youngest. No doubt, the older surviving Mertz son was mixed up with Rooke. He slapped the glove against his hand. When he heard a crackling sound, he turned the glove inside out. A small piece of paper fell into the snow. Picking it up, he cursed again.

“What is it?” Osborne asked.

“A note to tell me that if I do not surrender the new orders brought by Colonel Hepburn, Faith will be killed.”

“New orders?” Osborne's eyes glittered in anticipation.

Gaylord smiled broadly. “To arrest Washington's men, who are rumored to be near a town called Valley Forge.”

“Is that what you think we are ordered to do?” Sebastian asked.

“I
heard
that—and hanging Rooke—would be your orders.”

Sebastian gave his brother a smile as cool as his own. “You should know better than to heed rumors now.” Walking to where his horse waited, he said, “Wake these men up and get them ready. I shall be back within the hour.”

Riding hard back toward Sir Richard's house, Sebastian hoped the other men would be as wrong about his orders as his brother. Instead of their marching on Washington's encampment and bringing the traitors to justice, the battles ahead of them would be bloody and leave many dead in their wake.

He was surprised to discover Mistress Cromwell in Faith's bedchamber. Helping her to sit, he looked across the room at the table.

“Don't bother,” she murmured. “Your orders are not there.”

“But if Rooke has them—”

“He doesn't.” She rubbed her forehead and winced. “I do not trust what I heard, because I am not certain how much I was awake and how much I was dreaming.”

“What do you
think
you heard?”

“Faith destroyed your orders.” Mistress Cromwell groaned, but waved aside his offer of something to drink. “We cannot be sure which ewers have the sleeping powder in them.”

“She destroyed them?”

“I believe that is what I heard Rooke screeching about. The man shouted loudly enough to wake even the drugged.” She gave him a weak smile. “But why do your orders matter? If you have captured him—”

“I haven't.” He handed the note to her.

“Oh, no!” she choked out. “Sebastian, if you go, they will kill you.”

“If I don't, Rooke will kill Faith.”

“There might be something else we can do. If you go to this barn, he will have nearly two dozen men waiting for you.”

“How do you know that?”

Instead of answering his question, she said, “You discovered the byre where Faith took supplies for Washington's men.”

“You know of that?” He stared at Mistress Cromwell.

“Of you chancing upon the byre, or that Faith has been knitting gloves for her friends who fight with the patriots?”

“Patriots? You favor the rebels in this war?”

She put her hand on his arm. “Sebastian, this is no longer about who believes what about a war. This is about saving my daughter's life and your life, as well. I tried to protect you by giving her sleeping powder to put in your wine tonight.”

“But she did not.”

“She worried it would make you ill as the herbs that sickened your men. Rooke gave her those. She would not risk killing you.” Mistress Cromwell looked toward the table. “Adrat! Rooke must have taken the powder. He may give it to Faith to keep her compliant.”

Sebastian swore. “If it makes her sicken—”

“Rooke isn't interested in hurting her. If he had been, he could have slain her anytime before this. He wants to halt you and your men. If you go to the byre and …” She glanced toward the door as heavy footfalls paused there.

Sebastian rushed to assist Cromwell into the room. He had the same gray color Sebastian had seen on his men's faces and on Mistress Cromwell's.

Cromwell grumbled, “What has happened to everyone?”

“I don't have time to explain.”

Mistress Cromwell said, “You must take the time, Sebastian. Faith is his daughter. He has the right to know.”

“But—”

“Please, Sebastian. He needs to know, because he may be able to help.”

He nodded. Mistress Cromwell was right. Cromwell knew this area and where any ambushes might be. But none of that would matter if Rooke became tired of waiting.