Just Jane (29 page)

Revenge against the Loyalists soon raised its ugly head in South Carolina. Nowhere else had their resistance to the rebellion been so fierce, and nowhere else were they punished so severely. Once-respected citizens became homeless, hated refugees, their homes and property confiscated.

Robert and Clarissa Prentice were among the lucky ones, taken in at Goose Creek by the Ainsleys, who stayed on there while Charlestown remained occupied. In this quiet haven, Clarissa slowly recovered and accepted their hard new reality with serenity. For Robert, recovery was more difficult. His fall during battle had left him with a limp, and his right arm remained useless from the gunshot wound. Harriet, still in her mental fog, believed that all Robert's injuries were received in the fighting at Rosewall.

Robert's deepest sense of defeat had come with the loss of his beloved plantation. Arthur used all his influence to try to obtain the return of Rosewall to its rightful owner. But although Robert continued to hold out hope that these efforts would eventually succeed, Arthur encountered only failure.

Meanwhile, Jane and Simon were happy just to be near each other. They began to make plans for the future, but first another separation would have to be endured. Simon traveled north to finish certain business in connection with his work for the Continental Army. Jane remained at Goose Creek, doing what she could to help, as always. They wrote to each other as often as they could and counted the days until Simon could return to South Carolina.

When he returned in the spring, wedding invitations were sent to Hugh and Lydia, and to Peter and Marianne Quincy. The Quincys sent back good wishes but could not come. Marianne was expecting again and was afraid to go far from home. Hugh and Lydia made the trip out from Charlestown, and when they arrived at Goose Creek, Robert greeted his cousin with a nervous half smile. After only a few awkward moments, they were friends again, reunited by the kind of happy event neither had seen in many years.

Jane and Hugh spent a few quiet moments together in fond reunion, during which Hugh presented her with a small package tied with a bit of yellow ribbon. “This came from the most unlikely of places, my dear,” he told her. “But I still thought you might like to have it.”

“Oh, Cousin Hugh, you know I wrote to you that people shouldn't bring us wedding presents,” she admonished him gently.

He smiled. “I think you'll forgive my defying your wishes just this once.”

Jane opened the package, and in it she discovered her little gold locket. Its slender chain was broken, but the tiny curl of her mother's chestnut hair lay inside, just as it had for so many years.

“My God,” she breathed. “Where on earth . . .” The words caught in her throat as she looked up at Hugh, tears welling in her eyes.

“It was right there in our kitchen all along, lying in the dust under Lydia's wood box. When I tore that rotted old box out to make her a new one, there it was.”

Overcome with joy and gratitude, Jane threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much, Cousin Hugh! For everything—and especially for the most wonderful present I could ever imagine.”

 

The next morning, while her proud family beamed with pleasure, Jane and Simon were married in a simple but beautiful ceremony at Saint James Church in Goose Creek. With heads bowed beneath the British Royal Coat of Arms—emblem of an era that had passed into history—they solemnly vowed to love, honor, and cherish, forsaking all others . . .

Jane would always think of the few days following her wedding, spent at a small inn nearby, as a time of serene bliss.
Truly
, she thought,
love is one of the great forces of the universe
.

It was like returning to earth from paradise then, when they came back to the Dudley house, to stay there one more day before leaving to spend the summer in Simon's hometown of Lancaster, in distant Pennsylvania.

But first, a moment of quiet solemnity. In the afternoon, they walked to a remote corner of the Dudley lands and stood before a grave, the final resting place of Brandon Ainsley, Lieutenant, American Loyalist Cavalry, who had died a hero's death at the age of twenty-three. As they had so many times before, Jane's eyes brimmed with tears, while Simon held her hand. Neither spoke. The only sound was the chirping of birds in the forest. Words would have seemed a jarring intrusion on the deep peacefulness around them.

The next morning, they said their good-byes, climbed into the carriage given to them by the Ainsleys, and started their journey north.

 

The trip was long and grueling, over primitive roads, but Jane was dazzled by new vistas constantly opening up before her. Other parts of America were so different from lush South Carolina. She was charmed by the town of Lancaster, nestled in the rolling farmland of southern Pennsylvania. Hardly more than a rustic frontier village compared to the gracious Charlestown, it had a bustling vitality of its own. Best of all, Simon's sister, Becky, and her two children—Jack Junior, aged fourteen, and Frances, twelve—embraced Jane as if they had known her all their lives. As Simon had hoped, his young wife took a liking to his family, and they to her.

One day they all paid a visit to the nearby cemetery and stood somberly at another grave, that of Becky's husband, Jack Herndon. Released by the British after two and a half years as a prisoner, he had made his way home a broken man, his health shattered, and died a few months later.

“He was a good man,” Becky said softly. “But, perhaps, a foolish one.”

“He was a good man, and most assuredly a brave one,” Simon declared.

And these
, Jane silently recalled,
were just my thoughts that day at Brandon's grave
.

 

During that peaceful summer, Jane and Simon explored the town and walked all over the hills and fields that surrounded it, enjoying the beauty of the countryside. To Jane, it looked remarkably like England. She and Simon spent time at his sister's store, Herndon's Mercantile. She met many of his old friends and was impressed by their high regard for him.

But there was one serious matter that they still needed to decide. Simon had long dreamed of starting a school, and now was the time. But where? Jane could tell that he dreaded the question, fearing it might cause disagreement between them.
This won't do
, she thought. She decided to clear up the matter herself.

Her opportunity came late one afternoon toward the end of summer, when they stopped on a hillside during one of their walks and looked out over the town. “I've seen some good sites for a school here, Simon,” Jane remarked. “What do you think?”

He stared intently at the green hills in the distance. “Yes, seems to me there are several that would be ideal. But I wouldn't make such a decision by myself. It must be made by both of us. And I know how difficult it would be for you to—”

“Simon, my dear, listen to me.” She took his arm and turned him to look at her. “Years ago, when you left the South to come back here to live, you said it was because your sister needed you, and that was very admirable. But you had another reason, too, a far more important one. You said you couldn't live in a society that depended on slave labor. That must mean you wouldn't want our children brought up in that kind of society, either. Am I right?”

Simon considered his answer carefully. “Jane, I know that your kinfolk always treated their servants kindly. But it's still an evil system, and sooner or later it will have to end. It may not happen in our lifetime. Perhaps it will be our children, or their children, who have to face that terrible struggle—and a terrible one it will be. But when it comes, I'd like to think they'll be on the right side of it.”

“So would I.” Jane smiled into his eyes. “It's settled, then. Our new baby will be raised right here in Pennsylvania.”

Speechless with delight, Simon gathered her into his arms, and they stood there together until the sun disappeared in a golden blaze below the dark green hills.

 

With no way to be certain that a letter would ever arrive safely in South Carolina, Jane worried over how to tell everyone there about her good news, and about their decision. She wanted to make one last trip south, but as the weeks slipped by the idea seemed less and less practical. The first chill of fall would soon sharpen the air. And besides, travel could prove excessively wearing, if not downright perilous, in her condition.

She and Simon were still pondering the problem when, one blazing August afternoon, Jane received a packet of letters Arthur had sent with a trusted friend who was traveling to Pennsylvania. There was a note from Arthur himself, another from Hugh and Lydia, and a third, somewhat longer, from Robert.

Arthur wrote that he and Harriet were still living at Goose Creek, anxiously awaiting the day—expected soon—when the British would evacuate Charlestown and they might return to their home. They had heard that it was wrecked after serving for years as a British military barracks. But of course, Arthur added, it can be restored. Harriet still sometimes fretted about why Brandon never came to visit, but those lapses were growing less frequent. Arthur dared hope that eventually she would be her old self again.

Hugh and Lydia sent word that they were both well, and that Hugh's shop was prospering as never before. They were even thinking of moving to larger quarters. Peter and Marianne, they wrote, were expecting their baby in November, and might move on to Georgia in the spring. (“Foolish notion!” Hugh added in the margin. “Young people never know when they're well off”)

These brief communications were deeply appreciated by Jane. But it was the letter from Robert that held her the longest.

 

In Charlestown, 28 July 1782

 

My dearest niece
,

I take up my pen in the hope this finds you and your husband well, and to inform you of events here. All hope of recovering Rosewall has been lost—the rebels recently sold it at auction. Its new owner, a wealthy planter from Beaufort, plans to knock down the wall, and since the name Rosewall will then be meaningless, to discard it. Clarissa and I do not wish to know what its new name will be. Indeed, we try not to think about it
.

Recently we returned to Charlestown, and to our house on Legare Street
—
though, of course, as soon as the rebels retake the city, that property will be seized as well. The British are no longer an effective force here, and everyone expects them to pull out soon. When that happens, we Loyalists will be like lambs left to the mercy of wolves. Hundreds are leaving every day. Arthur is convinced we'll all eventually be allowed to return, perhaps even recover our property. But that is not for me. I am an Englishman, and if Englishmen are not welcome here, I will end my days in my native land. Clarissa and I sail for England in a few weeks. Clarissa is with me in this, and knowing that, I am content
.

I am truly sorry for the grief I caused Arthur, and Hugh, and Simon. I acted as their enemy, and they repaid me only with kindness. From you, my dear, I especially beg forgiveness. I should not have tried to force you to remain a prim English girl. Believe me, it was only because I loved you too well
.

Clarissa and I send you all our love, with fervent hopes for your happiness and good fortune in the new nation you and Simon will help to build. May the ocean we are about to cross never be so wide as to prevent English and American hands from being clasped in friendship, both now and through all generations
.

Until we may meet again, I remain
,

Your devoted servant and loving uncle
,

 

Robert

 

Without a word, but with tears in her eyes, Jane handed the letter to Simon. He read it through quickly, then handed it back. His face was grim, and his voice dark with anger when he spoke.

“We'll live to regret this insane fury being directed at Loyalists. America needs all the brains, energy, and ability it can muster to turn this sprawling, disorderly land into a unified nation. And like fools, we're chasing away some of our best people.”

“Thank you, Simon,” Jane murmured. “I know it would mean everything to Uncle Robert to hear you say that. And when they send us word of where they are, I'll write and tell him that you did.”

“So you don't want to try to get back there once more before they leave? There may still be time.”

Jane shook her head. “There's no need.” She held up Robert's letter. “Everything's already been said, right here.”

 

So it was that the girl who had been born Lady Jane Prentice, daughter of an English earl, became the young wife and mother called Jane Prentice Cordwyn of Pennsylvania. But she would never forget the land of her heritage, and the tiny gold locket around her neck remained an unbreakable link to the old world she had left far behind.

And in that same spirit of sad, sweet remembrance, she never forgot the people and places she had known and loved in South Carolina. Visitors to the Cordwyn home years later never failed to admire the splendid bright red roses that covered the picket fence running the length of their garden. But to Jane, these roses were much more than a fragrant delight. They were a daily reminder to her of those who survived the war, those who did not, those who stayed behind when it was over, those who moved on, and those who sailed away across the sea—all of them living on in her memory. Omar and Cuba, too, who had been loyal friends when she needed them most, she always remembered.

No one ever knew what became of Omar. But his parting wish for Jane did come true. Blessings fell down upon her, all the rest of her days.