The Courier of Caswell Hall (34 page)

“Surely there is someone here you would like to see.” Nathan paused. “A woman, perhaps?”

He was fishing, but he desperately wanted to know whether this man still cared for Lydia.

“The woman I plan to marry resides up north.”

Nathan fought back his urge to smile. He had refused to let himself hope that Seth’s intentions toward Lydia had changed, but it was as he initially suspected. Seth loved the daughter of Colonel Fielder.

“Has the colonel granted you his permission?”

Seth grinned. “He has. The moment we win this war.”

Would Lydia be devastated at the news, or relieved? He prayed for the latter.

At one time, Grayson had thought marriage would confine him to the mundane life of a planter, but the fears of his youth melted away as Sarah worked alongside him to prepare for the arrival of the troops. Her courage shone as she secured important supplies in places he was not welcomed and slept in obscure places he would never have imagined a woman to sleep. She was still weak from her gallant rescue, but she continually assured him that she felt fine.

No one knew how long the battle would last in York. Zadock and Elisha and the rest of his men had emptied their newly acquired boat of its supplies at the Hammond plantation, where Grayson and Sarah now stayed. They hid the supplies with the others that Nathan had rescued from the shipyards, and then the crew left to retrieve one final shipment from near Richmond. They would wait until the war began before delivering them to York.

Sarah sleeping beside him, Grayson rolled over on the mattress he’d concocted from straw. The British had destroyed her house, but the barn and other flank buildings remained. He wished he could take her to one of the grand homes in Williamsburg, but instead he’d built a fire in the washhouse, and the room made for a cozy home during the cool autumn nights.

He had never imagined such joy as he now felt. Sarah looked so peaceful in her sleep. The washhouse was hardly an elegant place for him to house his bride, but she seemed as contented as he, and he hoped their time here would help her rest. He had enough money from privateering to establish a comfortable home for her after the war, but Sarah had told him she didn’t want a large house. She wanted to travel with him.

So they would travel. To the West Indies and France and Italy. Until now, the king had required the colonies to send their main exports to England, but once the war was over—if his father would consent—Grayson could expand the Caswell exports far beyond.

Grayson gently nudged his wife. “The sun is shining, love.”

She opened her eyes and smiled weakly as she looked out the door of the washhouse. “It is lovely. I only wish I were not so tired.”

He kissed her forehead. If only he knew how to care well for her. “We have had a long journey. Perhaps you should continue to sleep.”

“I am terribly thirsty.”

No matter how much water he retrieved for her on this journey, it never seemed to quench her thirst. She’d lost a great deal of weight in her quest to find him, but no matter how much she ate, she always seemed to be hungry as well.

“I will fetch you some water.”

When she returned to her sleep, he slipped out of the washhouse and walked to the well. After his crew arrived with the remaining supplies, perhaps he would take Sarah to Williamsburg for a real meal and a comfortable bed for them both.

He turned the crank on the well and lowered the bucket. When he brought it up again, he tipped back the bucket and took a long sip. After his seemingly endless days in shackles, parched beyond what he thought he could ever bear, it seemed to him that he couldn’t drink enough either. He would never again take water for granted, the freedom of the river or the life-giving drink from the well.

His gaze wandered up to the black remains of the grand house that once overlooked the river. Why must so much destruction precede freedom? But then, if the British hadn’t burned her home, Sarah would never have left here, would never have gone to her aunt in Philadelphia. Without the destruction, he supposed, they might never have found one another. Or married.

Their love had emerged from the fire, with a promise of freedom to come.

He dumped the water into another wooden bucket and lifted it to
carry to Sarah. Should he wake her to give her the water, or should he let her awaken on her own?

The thunder of a galloping horse startled him, and he looked up to see it moving toward the house. Then he saw the blue coat of the rider, the yellow cockade of a captain in the Continental Army displayed on his black hat. The captain dismounted, and when he took off his hat, Grayson rushed toward the man. His brother-in-law stretched out his hand, and Grayson set down the bucket of water and shook it.

“I have missed you,” Grayson said.

Seth took off his hat. “It has been much too long.”

Seth looked at the remains of the house behind Grayson, his eyes reflecting the destitution.

“I am sorry about your home.”

Seth stepped forward, his eyes still on the house. “I once had grand plans for this place, and to be honest, I once had plans for your plantation as well.”

“You can rebuild,” Grayson assured him. “And perhaps you and Lydia can still—”

“Much has changed in the past three years.” Seth brushed off his sleeves as he faced Grayson again. “I have new plans now.”

Grayson nodded. “We are all on a new journey, I suppose.”

Seth unbuttoned his coat and strung it over his arm. “What are you doing here?”

Grayson smiled. “I have a surprise for you.”

“I fear I have not had a good experience with surprises.”

“I hope this will be a good one.”

Grayson picked up the bucket and the two men walked toward the washhouse, talking of all they had seen in the past years since leaving Virginia. Seth had survived both the frigid weather at Valley Forge and the defeat at New York. Grayson told him of his night runs delivering supplies and his time in the British prison.

Seth blinked. “I thought no one ever escaped a British prison.”

“They don’t, unless someone comes to rescue them.”

“Who rescued you?”

Grayson opened the washhouse door. “Madam Knight.”

He thought Sarah would wake when the sunlight flooded into the room, but she didn’t seem to hear him. He set down his bucket, motioning for Seth to wait outside even as he moved to their bed of straw. “Sarah—your brother is here.”

Sweat had returned to her face, along with a gray pallor. He shook her gently. “Sarah?”

Then he shouted for Seth.

Sarah’s brother rushed inside, eyeing Sarah asleep on the mattress before his eyes narrowed at Grayson. “What have you done?”

“We have married,” Grayson insisted. “A month ago near Newport News.”

Seth knelt by the mattress and took her hand. “Sarah?”

This time she opened her eyes slowly, and the cool green in them warmed when she saw the men. “Seth—you have returned.”

“I did not know you were here,” he said softly. “Grayson said you have married.”

“Aye.” She smiled at Grayson, and his heart seemed to explode with relief. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost her again.

Seth’s smile was strained. “Shall I call you Lady Caswell?”

She shook her head. “We are no longer Caswells. My name is Sarah Porter.”

He brushed his hand over her hair. “You are ill.”

Grayson dipped a tin cup into the bucket and brought the water to Sarah’s lips.

“I am only tired. We have had a long journey.” She guzzled the water. “It is nothing to fret about.”

Seth glanced back at him, and Grayson saw the worry etched deeply across his forehead. Something was terribly wrong.

“She must have something to eat as well.”

“Of course,” Grayson said, feeling like an idiot.

In the corner was a crate he’d filled with food, and he retrieved an apple, slicing it quickly into small pieces with his knife. While
Seth cradled Sarah’s head, Grayson fed her. She ate the apple and then asked for another.

When she finished eating and drinking another cup of water, Seth lowered her head back to the pillow. As her eyes drooped shut once more, she reached out and took Seth’s hand. “I am so glad to see you.”

Then she slept again.

When he and Seth stepped outside, Seth slapped his hand against the side of the building. “She is ill.”

“I thought it was exhaustion.” Grayson wrung his hands together, and it felt as if his heart was wringing as well. “But she is worsening.”

“Why is she not sleeping in a real bed?”

“We are waiting for supplies for York. I thought about staying in Williamsburg, but I—we did not want anyone to recognize us in town.”

“Do not go to town, Grayson. Go home. Your mother and Lydia will care for her.”

Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to see his mother and Lydia, but Lord Caswell would not be happy to see him.

For Sarah, he must swallow his pride and go to Caswell Hall. “I will leave right away.”

“Unless the British took it, there should be a canoe in the boathouse,” Seth said as he rushed toward the door. “I will fetch Dr. Cooper.”

When Grayson lifted Sarah from the straw, her eyes fluttered open. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“You once asked me to trust you.” He kissed her forehead. “This time, my dear, you must place your trust in me.”

Dust billowed along the long drive to Caswell Hall, and Lydia turned and squinted in the sunlight, hoping to catch a glimpse of the riders as they approached where she and Hannah and the field slaves worked. Father was in the barn, hanging the leaves they’d harvested earlier in the day, to cure them. Hannah stood up and pulled her hat close to her eyes. “Perhaps Dalton has returned.”

Lydia stood up beside her. She hated the delight in her sister’s voice, when the thought of the major and his men returning made her skin crawl. Last she’d heard at church, the Patriots were supposed to confront the British army at York, but there had been no word of a battle. Perhaps these men had news for them.

Her sister ducked down again as if the leaves could hide her. “We mustn’t let them see us like this.”

Lydia looked at her filthy hands and the dirt that stained her petticoat. Except for perhaps Nathan, she didn’t much care what anyone else thought of her appearance.

Two men galloped by them. The men were much too far away to be recognized, but she was relieved that neither man wore a red uniform. In fact, one of the men seemed to be wearing the grayish-blue of the Continental Army.

Was it possible?

As their dust dissipated into the fields, she felt like sinking into the soil as well and lying dormant among the harvested leaves. A long time ago, she had dreamed about what it would be like for Seth to return to her. He would apologize for his anger, and she would apologize for not supporting him. They would marry at the river’s edge in a grand ceremony of
family and friends reconciled after the war. But she hadn’t thought about Seth in a long time.

Was he riding one of the horses? If so, what would he do when he saw her?

“I will shoot him if he tries to step on my property.”

Father’s words jolted her into action. If it was indeed Seth who had arrived, she must warn him before Father came in from the fields.

She fled to the drive and then ran as fast as she could toward the house. She was already covered with dirt from her field labor; it wouldn’t matter how much more dirt and sweat she accumulated in a run. The elegant, gentle lady that Seth left almost three years ago was no longer.

It was possible that the rider wasn’t Seth at all, that another man in uniform was coming to visit. But she didn’t know another Patriot soldier who would risk visiting them.

When she reached the house, she breathed deeply and fanned herself with her hands to cool down. Then she ascended the steps into the hall.

Prudence stood at the doorway leading to the library, her face grave. “They are inside with Lady Caswell.”

“Who is it?”

“Master Seth and Dr. Cooper.”

She leaned against the staircase, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. After all these years, he was finally back.

Was it possible for them to rekindle what they had lost? But how could they rekindle even their friendship when her heart now belonged to another? She’d run all the way to the house in case it was Seth, but now all she wanted to do was hide.

“Father might harm him,” she said.

Prudence shook her head. “Lady Caswell would never allow it.”

Perhaps not, but she still must tell him what Father had said.

She walked toward the door, but Prudence stopped her. “Lady Caswell requested a private interview with them.”

Private
? She was the one who had waited all these years to see the man she was to marry. How could they exclude her? But then again, if Dr. Cooper had accompanied Seth, something might be wrong.

Or had the war ended? Perhaps Seth and the doctor had come to warn them.

Prudence eyed Lydia’s dress. “Might I make a suggestion?”

“Of course.”

“We could change your wardrobe while you wait.”