Midnight (17 page)

After putting the kitchen back to rights she hurried upstairs to fetch her cloak, hat, and gloves. Once she was adequately clothed for the weather she joined him for what would be her first excursion outdoors since the day of the ice storm. Unlike that freezing cold day, the sun was shining and the weather warmer than it had been in months. Spring was on its way, and she couldn’t have been more pleased.

For the most part, the ride into Boston was uneventful. The bright sunshine made it a great day for traveling. She could see buds beginning to emerge on the birch trees growing beside the road, and as the snow on the ground continued to recede, patches of winter gold grass dotted the open fields. The Concord Road was ofttimes difficult to navigate during the winter due to the uneven hilly terrain upon which it was built. Their wagon encountered flooding in some of the low spots but the levels weren’t deep enough to impede their progress.

It was slow going. At one point during the journey, Nicholas had to steer the horses to the far side of the road in order to make room for the stagecoach that roared up from behind. The coaches began in 1764 allowing travelers to make it from New York to Philadelphia, the largest city in the colonies, in three days. Now the coaches were much faster and the same trip took only two days. Colonists called the fast coaches flying machines
.

After the passing of the stage, Nicholas got the wagon under way again, and as it seesawed back and forth over the cobbles, he groused, “I’m envious.”

“Of what?”

“Their speed,” he replied, indicating the coach pulling farther and farther ahead. “I’m accustomed to being on horseback when I travel. This wagon will us take all day. Makes me feel like a farmer.”

“You are a farmer.”

He shot her a look. She grinned and turned her attention back to the passing landscape of trees, taverns, and family farms. They passed a wagon heading in the opposite direction being driven by a man of color. He was dressed in the fashion of the day, including the popular tricorn hat, but his clothing looked old, and on his legs were the blue-striped hose farm slaves were mandated to wear. As he passed, he nodded a greeting and they replied in kind.

They were soon approaching the section of the road that led past her father’s inn and Faith steeled her heart to keep her emotions in check.

Nicholas seemed to sense her mood because he sent a questioning look her way. “Are you all right?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” It was her first look at the place since her banishment. In truth, a part of her hoped to catch a glimpse of her father to see how he might be faring, but sterner parts chastised her for wanting such a thing in the face of his actions towards her. However, he was still her father; her only parent, and deep down inside the love she’d had for him still echoed with pain.

It was mid morning when they arrived in Boston and because the narrow twisting streets were filled with traffic, they were forced to go slow.

The walks lining the streets were filled with people beginning their day, and the stalls belonging to itinerant businessmen were being pushed in place. Faith noted the increasing number of shuttered shops, businesses, and taverns. General Gage’s Intolerable Act of closing the harbor to shipping was taking its toll on the goods available for purchase, leaving angry merchants and shopkeepers little choice but to shutter their businesses or contract with smugglers. The hated blockade was devastating what was once the most robust economy in the colonies.

Up ahead loomed the British custom house which during the 1750s came under attack by the local populace incensed by the Sugar and Stamp Acts. The tax agent was hanged in effigy and an angry mob descended on his place of residence. They broke in, stole everything of value, and destroyed everything else; walls, floors, windows. They were in the process of tearing off the roof when the soldiers arrived and finally put an end to the anarchy. Boston citizens were a major thorn in the crown’s side and they were proud of it. As a result the four thousand soldiers were a looming presence.

“So many soldiers,” she said to Nick quietly.

“Yes, they seem to be everywhere.”

Their red coats made them conspicuous and their strength in numbers made them a significant percentage of the city’s population. They stood in groups on street corners, marched in the streets, and were stoned, cursed, and scorned. Almost as numerous were the signs of rebellion. Broadsides exhorting people to fight blared their message in large letters nailed to the sides of buildings and on doors of shops and taverns. Liberty poles bearing the drawing of the severed snake first seen in Ben Franklin’s paper, the
Pennsylvania Gazette
, continued to be displayed, no matter how many times the soldiers tore them down. The city was under siege and one could feel the tension in the air.

“Where are we going?” she asked. They passed a town crier ringing a cow’s bell and announcing that he’d found a lost boy of about six years of age. Faith saw the little teary-eyed child walking at the crier’s side. She hoped his parents would return to claim him soon.

“I want to see if Prince Hall is at home, and then do a bit of shopping. Where is Charity’s mother’s shop?”

She told him where.

“Then we’ll stop there after I talk with Hall.”

Prince lived in the northern part of the city that had been home to the small free Black community since the 1640s. People were busily moving around in this part of town as day workers headed off to their jobs as cooks, cleaning women, and apprentices, and business owners hurried to their shops.

He parked as close to the Hall residence as the traffic allowed and stepped down onto the street. “I’ll only be a moment.”

Faith wondered what he was about but didn’t ask. Although they were to be married, they both had secrets.

Nick found Hall working in the shed he used as his leather shop.

“Morning, Nicholas.”

Nick watched as he rubbed oil into a large square of tanned leather. “What’s that to be?”

“Skin for a war drum. Hoping to get it done before Gage marches on us. Have orders from a few other regiments wanting new skins, too.” He glanced up. “What brings you around?”

“Wanted to let you know that the guns for your men will be arriving soon.”

Prince stilled and studied him for a long moment. “I suppose I shouldn’t ask how you managed that.”

“No, but I’ll let you know when they arrive.”

Prince looked away for a moment, then finally shook his head as if amused. “Who are you really, Nick?”

“Primus’s son.”

Prince smiled at the simple reply. “All right. My thanks in advance for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

They took a few moments to discuss the ongoing drilling and Nick departed.

While waiting for Nick to return, Faith glanced up and down the street. She knew that Gage had Hall’s residence under surveillance just as he did those of other patriots tied to the rebellion, but she saw no one on the walks who appeared to be serving that purpose. Then she noticed a man standing in the shadow of the doorway of a sweet shop a few doors down and directly across the street. His dirty clothing and face had all the appearance of a vagrant but his eyes, so clear and focused, were riveted on Hall’s front door. When he met her eyes, he smoothly looked away and then staggered drunkenly away.

Chapter 17

W
hen Nicholas returned and they were again under way, she said, “I saw a man I believe was watching Hall’s home.”

Nick nodded. “He knows he’s being spied upon so he’s being very discreet about who he allows to visit.”

That was good to know. She didn’t want him to suffer Primus’s fate. “Have you made any progress finding Primus’s betrayer?”

“No. I’ve talked to his friends, but I know little more than I did upon my return to Boston.”

Faith sighed with the injustice of that. She almost asked if he still considered her father a suspect but kept the question unspoken because after her father’s perfidy, she could no longer be sure about anything concerning him. Nicholas had also asked that they not discuss his guilt or innocence and she continued to think that best.

They found a place to park and left the wagon to walk across the street to the shop owned by Charity’s mother, Babette Locke. Babette grew up in the French Indies as a slave to a mixed-blood seamstress. She and the mistress left the islands to immigrate to the colonies but the seamstress died on the passage and was buried at sea. Babette spent the remainder of the voyage forging a set of free papers that designated her as the half sister of the dead woman. She entered her new life as a free woman of color, married a free Black man, and became highly sought after by the wealthy women of the colony because of her outstanding needle skills.

Upon seeing Faith enter she threw open her arms. “Ah, Faith.”

Faith let herself be enfolded in Babette’s well-bosomed embrace and basked in the familiar hug she’d been receiving since the Lockes moved to Boston when Charity was fifteen.

“And who might his be?” Babette asked.

Faith looked to Nicholas. “Mrs. Locke, this is Nicholas Grey.”

“Primus’s son? The one everyone is speculating about?”

Faith grinned. “He is the son of Primus. I’m not certain about the speculating.”

Babette curtsied. “
Enchanté
, Mr. Grey.”

Nicholas bowed. “My pleasure, Mrs. Locke.”

With the introductions done, Faith asked, “What is this speculating concerning?”

“Which young woman he will choose as his wife, of course.”

Nicholas smiled but kept silent.

“He’s chosen me.”

Babette’s green eyes widened with happiness. “
Non!
”

“Yes.”

“Oh my. I must take your measurements. I will make you the gown of your dreams.” She stopped to gauge Faith critically. “Now for color. Maybe indigo, or a forest green?”

Faith held up her hand before Babette could work herself into a tizzy. “There won’t be time. We’re to be wed in the next few days, we are hoping.”

Babette looked between the two of them. “So soon? Does Charity know about this hasty pudding wedding?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Nicholas replied, hiding his smile.

“Then if you are not here for a wedding gown, how may I assist?”

“I need some new shifts.”

Babette nodded, “Knowing that miser who calls himself your father, you probably need much more.”

Faith didn’t want to back Nicholas into a corner by making him pay for more garments than he could afford so she didn’t respond.

But he apparently didn’t mind corners because he asked, “Would it be too much to ask that you provide her with everything? Shifts, nightclothes, and the rest?”

Faith opened her mouth to protest but Babette was already replying, “My work is not cheap; even with the reduced price you will be receiving due to my love of your intended, the price will be substantial.”

“Price is not a problem, madam.”

“As you wish,” she said, beaming, eyeing him in an entirely new light.

Faith was staring up at him in astonishment. “I simply need a few shifts.”

Babette, still assessing Nicholas, said to Faith, “Hush, child. Let your man spend his coin as he sees fit. I will get my tapes.”

A defeated Faith sighed audibly as Mrs. Locke hurried into the back of her shop to get her tools of the trade.

While she was away, Faith said to him, “This is a waste of perfectly good coin.”

“Faith, your underwear has more patches than a quilt.”

Her eyes narrowed warningly, but the return of Mrs. Locke kept her from responding. Instead she stood quietly as the measurements were taken while he looked on, amused. To her further dismay, he asked about purchasing a few day dresses.

“I have some readymade samples in the back that may fit,” Mrs. Locke said, sizing Faith up. “Come with me,
chèrie
.”

Once they were alone, Faith got out of her clothes, and after standing for a few moments in her dingy white shift, knee-length drawers, stockings, and ankle boots, she took the ensemble handed to her upon Mrs. Locke’s return—a soft gray wool skirt and over jacket. Faith stared in wonder. Included was a fine-gauge white blouse with long sleeves and lace-edged cuffs meant to be worn beneath the jacket. The skirt and jacket were piped in strips of black velvet, and they were beautiful, the most beautiful garments she’d ever held in her hands. “How much will all this cost, Mrs. Locke?” the overwhelmed Faith asked.

Babette shook her head. “Does Charity know how you and the
très magnifique
Mr. Grey came to be together?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll hear the tale when I visit her tonight. In the meantime it’s time for you to get dressed. No more questions. Your man is waiting.”

Faith looked down at the lovely ensemble lying across her arm and then up at Charity’s mother. “But Mrs. Locke—”

Babette held up a silencing, well-manicured finger. “Faith, you are blessed enough to have a man who is willing to provide for you in a way that is rare. Whatever the circumstances surrounding this sudden marriage, he cares about you. It’s in his eyes. You are not to throw it back into his face.”

Faith dropped her head. “I’m just—”

“I know, just being the very frugal Faith Kingston that Charity and I know and love. That is not a detriment. Being frugal is a strength, one you have had to master your entire life.”

“But suppose he’s spending himself into the poorhouse showing me he cares.”

“And suppose he is not? Suppose he can afford this and more for the rest of your lives? What then?”

Faith went quiet.

Babette hugged her shoulders affectionately. “Let the man be nice to you. And if you do wind up in the almshouse, at least you will be well dressed.”

Faith laughed softly and slipped on the blouse.

When they returned to the front of the store, they found Nicholas seated in one of the chairs and leafing through the shop’s pattern book. He looked up at their entrance and upon seeing Faith, he stopped, slowly set the book aside, and got to his feet. “You look grand.”

Faith gave him an embarrassed smile. “And it’s really warm. Much warmer than my cotton dress.”

Nicholas found the transformation stunning. The gray jacket and skirt fit perfectly and the cut of the jacket gracefully accented her curves. The snow white blouse peeking out underneath the cuffs and neckline made her look as fashionable as any other woman on the streets of the city.

Mrs. Locke added, “The ensemble has a matching cape and bonnet. Did you want to add those also?”

“Yes,” he replied, unable to take his eyes off the lovely picture Faith made. He’d wrap her in diamonds if he could. His inner voice questioned where that shocking thought had originated but he paid it no mind. He was hooked on this woman like a bass on a line. It made little sense, and he had no explanation, but it didn’t matter. “How long will it take you to finish the other garments?”

Babette shrugged. “A month.”

“If you can make it two weeks, you may add a five percent bonus to my bill.”

She smiled. “Then two weeks it will be.”

“Agreed.”

Babette looked affectionately in Faith’s direction. “Take care of her, Mr. Grey. She is very precious. And I expect to be invited to the wedding.”

“You are more than welcome to join us,” Faith said sincerely. “I’ll send word by Charity about the date.”

“Excellent. I will see you then, and congratulations to you both.”

As they started to the door, Nicholas spotted a display that held a variety of bath salts, small bottles of hand lotions, and scents. Stopping, he picked up a few and brought them to his nose. Faith watched silently, but Mrs. Locke walked over to see if he needed assistance. The two of them spent a few minutes narrowing down his choices, and without consulting Faith he purchased them, and once they were placed in a small sack, he and Faith left the store.

Faith asked, “Are you always this flippant with your coin?”

“Buying you new drawers is not being flippant.”

A scandalized Faith looked around to see if he’d been overhead by the people they were passing on the walks. “Mrs. Locke says I’m not to argue with you about this.”

“Then she is both beautiful and wise.” Nicholas didn’t know whether to be upset with her or amused. She obviously felt strongly about his spending, but to be frank, she’d been dressed like waif since the first day they met. The hems of the two skirts she owned were frayed, as was the lace around the necks of her two blouses, and the cuffs of the long sleeves. Her father, on the other hand, had always been well outfitted in handsome breeches and coats. Yet another sin to add to Stuart Kingston’s slate, he grumbled inwardly. As they crossed the street he looked over at her in fashionable bonnet and matching cape and declared, “I’m about to spend more unnecessary money on you, Faith, so prepare yourself.”

Her smile peeked out. “All right. Where now?”

“Wherever you purchase your Dutch ovens. You said you’d need more for your bread baking.”

Faith stopped and studied his eyes. As people passed by them on the crowded walk, she asked quietly, “You’re actually going to help me with this?”

“I said I would. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, I—” She was moved and a bit overcome. “Thank you, Nicholas.”

“You’re welcome. No more lectures?”

“No,” she pledged. “No more. Ever.”

“Which we both know is a lie,” he countered, chuckling.

She dropped her head.

He lifted her chin and stared down into her eyes, and Faith’s body heard his silent call. “You’d probably sock me if I kissed you out here in front of God and everybody, so I’ll wait until we are alone.”

Faith was shaking as if they were alone. “The shop is a few blocks west.”

Amusement in his gaze, he ran a caressing finger down her chin before saying, “Lead the way.”

O
n the wagon ride home, Faith couldn’t remember ever being so content. She was pleased with her new cape and clothing, the Dutch ovens, the trivets, and everything else he’d laid out coin for, from flour, spices, and new linens for her bed, to big fat candles for her to read by at night. She was content, but her head was spinning as well. No one had ever spent time shopping exclusively for her needs; her father certainly hadn’t. Asking for new clothing had at times led to arguments as to whether her needs were dear enough. Now, however, she was wearing the first new clothes she’d had in years and they were made of wool so fine and soft, she felt wealthy and important. Charity’s mother was correct, she was blessed to have Nicholas in her life.

The drive took them past her father’s inn again. She noticed that there were a number of wagons, horses, and carriages parked out front. As she wondered what might be going on inside, Elizabeth Sutter and her mother stepped out of a carriage, and Faith stilled. Elizabeth was wearing a black velvet cape over what appeared to be a beautiful blue gown. Was the wedding about to take place? She looked over at Nicholas. He viewed the scene for a moment and then said, “I believe your father may be heading for a different type of adventure.”

She agreed, especially in the face of the rumors that Elizabeth was carrying a child. “I hope he’ll be happy.”

“He won’t be, but spoken like a true daughter.”

She chuckled and settled in for the rest of the ride.

When they drove up to the house there was a small group of mounted British soldiers waiting out front. Faith stiffened and asked, “Do you have anything incriminating on your person?”

“Only a copy of the
Massachusetts Spy.
”

The
Spy
was the newspaper published by Isaiah Thomas. His scathing editorials flayed the British mercilessly. Many people, mostly Tories, labeled his writings treasonous, but so far Gage hadn’t had him arrested.

Faith’s second shock came when she realized that one of the soldiers was Henri Giles.

Nicholas stopped the wagon and set the brake. “Afternoon, Henri.”

“Nick.”

Faith’s third shock.

“Miss Kingston, how are you?”

“I’m well, Lieutenant Giles, and you, sir?”

It was Nicholas’s turn to be shocked. “I take it you two have been introduced.”