THE CRY FOR FREEDOM (Winds of Betrayal) (13 page)

Empty. Nothing remained inside. Hannah quickly took refuge and hid within a vacant stall as the order for retreat screamed forth. Hannah inched over through an opening. From her vantage point, Hannah watched in horror. Zachary emerged from the shattered house. Blood streamed down his face; clothes ripped.

“I will protect our home, Father. I will. I will make you proud!” Zachary screamed. He fired his musket and stumbled wildly across the porch. He readied to fire again when a member of the raiding party circled around and fired a single shot. Her hands went to her mouth to muffle the cry when  Zachary dropped his musket.  In slow motion, Zachary plunged downward. He fell flat
on his back; his eyes wide open.

Hannah slid down the side of the stable wall. She couldn’t breath, like a weight had been placed on her chest. She
crouched low onto the floor of hay until the only sounds she heard were the slaves dousing the flames with buckets of water.

* * * *

Hannah entered the house before help arrived. On the parquet at the foot of the steps lay her aunt’s lifeless body. Hannah inched forward only to shriek. Her uncle’s body lay in a puddle of blood in front of her, gun still in hand.

She walked on backwards against the wall by the stairs. Skirting her aunt’s body she slowly took the stairs. She found Mother Agnes in her bedroom. Tears blurred Hannah’s vision. Mother Agnes’ mangled body lay upon the floor. Half her nightgown was in shreds, the rest completely gone; violently torn from her body. She had recoiled into a ball with her hands around the knife still within her stomach. She was dead.

Gently, Hannah removed the knife and covered her mother as best she could with a quilt that lay on the bed, cradling her mother’s head on her lap. Endless tears streamed down her face. There she stayed.

* * * *

Peter Lanson threw his glass into the fireplace shattering it into a million pieces. Damn it, he was late again. Leaning against the mantle with his hands, he watched the burning flames. He shook his head. The whole of the family destroyed. He had yet to see the girl, but he didn’t even know if anyone would let him. The cousins had descended down. One, a reverend from Richmond, the other in the militia, had been called home.

“Mr. Lanson?”

Lanson wheeled around to the voice. Standing in front of him stood a shadow of the girl he remembered in the spring. Dressed in mourning, her face hollowed; her eyes dimmed.

“Miss Corbett?” he asked, surprise within his tone. “I can’t express how deeply I regret. My condolences.”

Hannah lifted her hand to stop him. “There is no need. I have no intention to wallow in self-pity. My intention is to see justice is served.”

Lanson stared at the young woman. She stood with a letter tightly held within her hand. He motioned for her to sit pulling a chair out.

“I can assure you, Miss Corbett, I will do everything in my power for your brother, yourself, and our country.”

“I appreciate your effort, Mr. Lanson. You can well imagine how hard this is for me. Not only losing my mother in the raid, but to find out that my father and brother have been hung as spies,” she choked up. She paused to regain her composure.

“I loved my family very much and I believe strongly in the cause that they have lost their lives for. I can’t shut my eyes at night without seeing Zachary’s eyes, or my mother lying lifeless. I can hear their screams. I feel I’m left with no choice, but to do what I can to correct this injustice.”

Lanson walked over to her side, a confused look upon his face. “I’m not quite sure what you want to do.”

The letter clutched tighter within her hand. She looked down at it and then handed it to Lanson.

“I’m no fool, Mr. Lanson. I know my family was betrayed, and it stemmed from my grandfather. Within this letter comes an invitation to live with my grandparents, expressing their concern for my welfare,” Hannah said
without a sign of emotion.

Lanson accepted the letter and scanned over it. She watched in silence his reaction.

She continued. “My father considered my grandfather a ruthless, unscrupulous man, but he wouldn’t fathom I would betray him.”

Lanson looked up from the paper in front of him. “Miss Corbett, are you proposing you infiltrate your grandfather’s house in hopes of finding our leak? I don’t believe you can comprehend what your grandfather is capable of. He’s a very shrewd man. It’s almost an impossible task in the best of circumstances.”

Hannah halted his words. “I don’t believe you understand me, Mr. Lanson. My mind is fixed. If it takes everything I have within me, I’m going to avenge my family’s deaths with or without your help.”

* * * *

Peter Lanson studied the young woman in front of him. He didn’t like this, but there wasn’t much as of late that he did. Hannah stood before him with the look of a sacrificial virgin; her long hair flowing, her sad eyes. Willingly, walking blindly into a fire. In their first meeting he had promised her nothing, but after meeting with Nathaniel Sackett, now directing what was left of their counterintelligence, the decision had been made to proceed.

“Set it up, Lanson,” Sackett said as he sat across the desk from him. “Have contacts readied for her, and an escape plan. Prepare her the best you can. I believe she’s correct in her assumption her grandfather wouldn’t suspect. In this arrogance, we may be able to find a foothold. Find the leak and get her out.”

It sounded so simple, but he knew Clay well from previous dealings. Not only was he a shrewd man, but an extremely dangerous one. Lanson had confidence that Clay had helped the British infiltrate the Corbett’s home, but the pressing problem remained the leak in the first place. How had the British known that Corbett had the device to begin with?

Clay, long known for his stance behind the crown, arranged for Hannah’s move to New York. For this same man to have enacted his revenge against her father, which included his own grandson, Lanson wondered how cold his blood ran. But did Clay have access to the leak they were seeking?

He didn’t know. And now he allowed this unseasoned young woman to enter this game that he knew so well could have far worse than deadly consequences. 

* * * *

Weather postponed the journey to New York until mid-February. The arrangement had been to meet at the Green Arms Tavern on the outskirts of New York. Her cousin, Matthew, escorted her.

“I’m at a loss to why you wish to do this, Hannah. You’re needed at home. I know it’s hard, but this doesn’t seem the right course with how your father felt about your grandfather,” he pleaded his case.

“Matthew, you have to trust me that this is the right move for me and the family. I need a change and Grandmother has long since wanted me to visit,” she tried to explain the best she could. “You have the run of the shop, now, until Jonathan comes home. When Lydia gets back on her feet, I feel it would be the best course of action to keep her there. She has gone through more than I. You have all you can deal with also. You don’t need me to add to it.”

“I don’t want you to run because of the girls. James said he had never seen such bravery. Hannah, I know they owe you. They will understand in time that your actions saved them,” Matthew replied as the carriage hit a bump in the well-trodden road.

Hannah reached over and squeezed her cousin’s hand. He was right in his conclusion of the girls’ rejection had hurt. Faith had withdrawn into a world of her own. Betsy expressed emphatically she didn’t want to see Hannah and when she had tried to see both the girls, Faith screeched as she had done on the plantation. Betsy’s eyes told Hannah not to tread close.

“I only did what I had to, Matthew. Your father told me to get them out. I wish at times I wasn’t as I am,” she said softly, fighting back tears welling up.

“You wouldn’t be here now if you didn’t and I doubt the girls would be either,” he answered simply.

Hannah stared out the carriage window. The last three months had been a nightmare. She still hadn’t heard from either Jonathan or Gabriel. And God help her, she had left poor Lydia alone, but Lydia knew well Hannah’s purpose.

With the raid and news of William, Lydia had taken to her bed only to deliver a stillborn daughter two weeks after the raid. Hannah’s heart broke watching Lydia say good-bye to her baby, the beautiful little one with a head full of dark hair who never breathed a breath. Lydia kissed her child and looked up at Hannah.

“I believe she should have a name. Do you not, Hannah? William would have wanted that. Do you mind Emily after your mother?” Lydia asked.

Within everything she had within her, Hannah nodded. She struggled to find her voice, “I believe William would have liked it very much.”

“She will be with her father. They won’t be alone,” Lydia whispered to her babe, but Hannah thought, Lydia was alone, so totally alone.

The hurt shone within her eyes. She visited the gravesite every day. The infant had been buried alongside her father’s marker for there had been no body to bury. Dunmore had disposed of the bodies himself. There had been no last letters, nothing for the family.

When Hannah told Lydia she had decided to travel to New York, Lydia knew at once the reason, not believing Hannah’s explanation.

“If you wanted to get away from here for a while, you would go to Philadelphia to Jonathan’s wife's family,” Lydia insisted. “I know you too well.”

“Don’t start, Lydia,” Hannah said defiantly. “It’s something I must do. There are times within one’s life when one knows they have to go down a certain road. I can’t stay here. I see within the Witherspoons the embarrassment that my father and brother’s death brought upon them. The way the girls look at me. You’re the only reason I would stay.”

Hannah took Lydia’s hand. “Trust me, Lydia. I don’t want my family to have died in vain. I have only one purpose. Then I will return. I’m not going to let this go unpunished. I have Gabriel. He will come for me if necessary.”

Lydia hesitated. For the first time, Hannah saw tears flow out her eyes. “I do have faith in you, my dear sister. And God forgive me, but I want you to succeed. With everything in me, I pray you do, but promise me one thing.”

Hannah nodded. Lydia continued, “After you have what you are looking for, come home. Don’t get caught up in a web you can’t escape.”

Hannah hugged her tightly. “I will. I promise. Gabriel won’t allow me to do otherwise.”

The motion of the carriage woke Hannah from her thoughts, bringing her back to the present. The driver reined in the horses. Matthew helped her out her carriage. A grand carriage waited out front of the Green Arms Tavern. Instinctively, Hannah knew it waited for her.

NEW YORK

In her youth, Hannah hadn't understood the beauty of the
large colonial house which stood in front of her. It was quite the grandest along the street. The iron gates swung open, manned by two servants, as the carriage drew to the door along the circular pathway. A footman met her as the carriage door opened to help her down.

The wind picked up. Hannah pulled her cloak tighter around
her as the cold encircled her. She hesitated at the imposing entrance, the embodiment of genteel formality. She walked slowly through the magnificent hand-carved wooden doors. The footman led her into the entrance hall, impressive with rich, elaborate workmanship and furnishing. The high ceiling opened to a handsome staircase with twisted baluster to the step, molded mahogany sweep upward. A crystal chandelier hung down brightly sparkling from the sun's rays. A shiver swept through Hannah that had nothing to do with the weather.

Hannah glanced around the foyer. The house seemed to be empty. Footsteps clicked upon the marble flooring. Hannah turned to the sound only to find a dowdy little woman dressed
in a simple green dress with a white apron. She stumbled to a stop in front of Hannah. The woman hastily straightened her dress.

“Oh, my dear. Miss Corbett, isn’t it? You're here earlier
than I was told. I'm sorry, my dear. I'm Mrs. Hayes, Mr. Clay's housekeeper. I'm to show you around. You'll see your grandfather and family later this evening,” she said with a forced smile.

The woman seemed oddly nervous. Hannah gave her a tentative smile, but refrained from asking why none of her family had greeted her.

Mrs. Hayes looked her over from head to foot. “I didn't realize you were in mourning, ma'am. Mr. Clay didn't mention the fact. But follow me. Isaac will take your trunk to your room. I'll show you around.”

Hannah
followed in silence Mrs. Hayes brief tour of her new home. On the ground floor Mrs. Hayes showed Hannah the grand library, a formal dining room, and the kitchen. The house was even larger than it looked from the outside. Mrs. Hayes led her to the first floor with two large drawing rooms and a study leading to a magnificent grand staircase curling up like a serpent, leading upward, enabling one to look down from the top floor in the hall.

Hannah took in her new home in silence, but when Mrs. Hayes walked to the
back of the servants’ staircase instead of the family floor, realization flooded her. She wasn’t being welcomed as family. That was made clear enough as she walked up to the top floor and shown into a small room. Hannah walked over to the small window. The view was amazing being high enough to have an overview of the city below. She could see for miles.