The General’s Wife: An American Revolutionary Tale (28 page)

“Yes?” came Sam’s voice from the other side.

“Lieutenant Hamilton, sir.”

“Come.”

The color drained from Sam’s face the second she walked into the room. He gave Pat a chiding look, then shuffled about for a moment, clearly getting his thoughts in order.

“Lieutenant Hamilton, I see you have brought the fort’s guest with you. Is there any particular reason?” he said acerbically.

“Yes, captain,” Pat nodded. “Colonel Axford, this is Lady Clara Strathmore. I have just had a discussion with her about a few points of interest. I think she should tell you herself.”

Clara stared at the portly, bewigged, middle-aged man, dressed in a fine blue uniform, whom Pat had just addressed. He looked rather jolly and pleasant, with kind eyes. He probably was not much older than her husband, or her father. Maybe the colonel would listen to her, take pity on her, and not send her back to the general.

“This beautiful young creature is the wife in question?” Colonel Axford grinned broadly. “I now see why General Strathmore has complied with our demands so readily.” He approached her and bowed slightly. Instinctively, Clara held out her hand and he politely kissed it. “He is a very lucky man.”

She wanted to scream that she hated him, did not want to go back to him. She wanted to throw herself on the ground at the mercy of this American colonel. She glanced up at Sam and saw the apprehension in his eyes.

“And why would you want to help us, my lady?” the colonel said with a touch of distrust.

“Honestly, sir, I do not love my husband and do not wish to go back to him. These young men have been very kind to me. If at all possible I would like to stay here in the fort.”

“Nonsense,” Colonel Axford said unequivocally. “You are worth at least twenty American prisoners and two cart loads of needed supplies, plus the horses and wagons the supplies come in on.”

Clara had to suppress a gasp. She had no idea she had been valued at so high a price.

“You will go back to your husband and you will raise that child of yours.” The colonel’s tone was vaguely paternal. “Now, young lady, what is it that you wish to tell us?”

Her heart sank, yet she clung to a shred of hope. “Lieutenant Hamilton asked why General Strathmore has his troops nearby. I believe he is planning to attack. I suspect he is planning to engage in battle during the prisoner exchange rather than make an assault upon the fort.”

“Ah, I see. Then why are they not amassed at one site?”

“My husband likes to give his men rest and relaxation before they fight, as well as review military exercises. From my discussion with Lieutenant Hamilton, it sounds like the British are located at points that contain swimming and bathing spots, a brothel, and fields for exercises?”

Colonel Axford studied the map. He looked up at Sam. “A brothel?”

“The house that burned down here,” Sam explained, pointing to the map, “was a brothel, but there are other buildings on the property that could be used as such.”

“Very good, very good,” mused the colonel. “Is that all?” he asked Clara.

Patrick leaned in to her. “Hawkins,” he said quietly.

“No, sir. I understand you need to know about Lieutenant Sebastian Hawkins? He is a very trustworthy man. Even Paul Bridgers always thought so.”

“Bridgers?” Colonel Axford queried with curiosity.

Sam cleared his throat and she discreetly glanced in his direction. He gave her a warning look and mouthed the word “supply.”

“Mr. Bridgers worked with my husband to acquire goods beyond what the military supplied. Or rather, Mr. Bridgers worked with Lieutenant Hawkins. I used to see Mr. Bridgers in town and would chat. He commented once to me that the lieutenant was an honorable man, honest and incorruptible.” Clara flushed slightly at her little white lie. She looked at Sam, who appeared somewhat pleased with the tale.

“And you can describe this Hawkins fellow to Lieutenant Hamilton, enough so he will know he is dealing with the right man?”

“Yes sir,” she said. “In fact, Lieutenant Hawkins looks a bit like Captain Taylor.”

“Thank you, Lady Strathmore. I do appreciate your willingness to disclose your knowledge openly,” Colonel Axford said with a genuine air. “Now, lieutenant, if you will please escort the young lady out, the captain and myself have a few items to discuss.”

Pat placed his hand at the small of her back, warming the chill that prickled her flesh. The shred of hope had flashed and burned.

Chapter Twenty-One

Patrick directed his small squad of soldiers to hang back among the trees while he rode forward. He stopped on a knoll to look down on the meadow where in a few days Lady Clara Strathmore was to be exchanged for goods and men. In the clearing, a British soldier stood next to a horse, his musket topped with a scrap of white fabric indicating the present truce. The redcoat kicked the ground with his foot, turned his gun upside down to scratch the frozen earth with the blade of his bayonet, then knelt and picked up a handful of the cold dirt, weighing and sifting it in his palm. The man looked up and around, his breath hanging momentarily in a cloud, nodding his head as if some thought were agreeable to him.

Pat rode down the hill and pulled his horse to a slow walk as he reached the British soldier.

“Hullo there,” he called out.

The man looked up and took hold of his horse’s reins. “Hello. First Lieutenant Patrick Hamilton, I presume?”

His voice held a twinge of excitement beneath the British accent. Pat decided to meet the man on his terms, so he dismounted and walked to the center of the clearing. “Yes,” he said once he stood before the redcoat. “And you are Lieutenant Sebastian Hawkins?”

“Correct.”

They shook hands.

“Right,” Patrick began. “I’ve a list here of the agreed-upon supplies which we should go over.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“Yes, of course.” Hawkins pulled out a similar document as he inhaled the chilly air. “Beautiful country you’re defending, lieutenant. Rich soil. A man could farm quite profitably here. Create a good life for himself.”

Patrick did not feel the romance of tilling the land, but he did understand that it was a powerful draw. “You’re a farmer then, lieutenant? When you’re not at war, I mean.”

“I come from a long line of farmers. The Hawkinses are a landowning family, yes.” Hawkins looked up at him. “And you?”

“I’m from a military family myself.”

“Ah. Then you understand this business of war better than I.”

“Frankly, I think no one understands war. We just do it. Like you said, we’re defending what we feel is rightfully ours.”

“Yes,” said Hawkins, almost with a sigh.

Pat began listing the desired supplies. “…candles, salt, gunpowder—”

“No,” interrupted Hawkins. “We’ll not supply gunpowder, lieutenant. However, in its stead we are willing to supply saltpeter and brimstone. You’ll have to make your own gunpowder,” he said with a wink. “You understand, I’m sure.”

“Yes, of course,” Patrick responded with a little amusement.

They began to review the specifics of the exchange. While they were in the thick of it, Hawkins abruptly changed the subject.

“Lieutenant Hamilton, you are aware that you are being watched, are you not?”

“As are you, Lieutenant Hawkins,” Pat chuckled.

“Well done. I am going to tell you something but I respectfully request you not react in too broad a manner. Understood?”

Patrick was intrigued. “Yes.”

“I have promised someone—someone who cares very much for her ladyship—that I would see this exchange through, that I would see Lady Strathmore safely ensconced at the house near Chesterton.” Hawkins pretended to glance at the list and look up as if they were still in the midst of negotiations. “After that, I will become a deserter from the British army. I would like to seek asylum at your Fort Revolution, for myself, my common-law wife, and her unborn child.”

Pat covered his surprise by perusing his own list. “Is your wife American? I mean, besides yourself, can we expect any trouble from the British?”

“She is American, in fact she is the former personal maid to Lady Strathmore. Her name is Annabella. The child she carries is not mine, but that of her betrothed who died recently at your fort. His name was Redmond Moncrief. He was working with Paul Bridgers.”

Pat inhaled deeply to maintain his composure. “And Lady Strathmore, she should not know of any of this, right?”

“Correct.” Hawkins sighed. “I feel for her ladyship. She is an innocent who should not be with Strathmore. He is a brute and a blackguard. If there were a way for her to be free of the man, I would wholeheartedly support it. Unfortunately, she is tied to him for life.” The lieutenant casually folded his list in half. “For the duration of his life, at least.”

Such an astute soldier would be a valuable asset to the patriot cause. “Lady Strathmore does indeed find herself in a grievous marriage.” Patrick folded his list and met the lieutenant’s gaze. “Hawkins, is there anything else we need to discuss? Any surprises?”

Hawkins grinned. “No. Except that Strathmore plans to slaughter the lot of you. But, of course, you already know that and are well-prepared.”

“Yes, we do know that.”

“And I intend to delay the attack, for my own personal safety,” admitted Hawkins. “That would be the only surprise. You might want to bear that in mind when considering your own course of action.”

Patrick saluted his colleague. “Thank you, lieutenant. I will see you on the battlefield.”

* * * * *

Colonel Axford was absolutely brimming with war stories and eager to regale Sam and the other officers. But, despite the diverting, almost theatrical, way in which he told his tales, the man was simply no substitute for passing a quiet evening alone with Clara.

The colonel remained at the fort until Patrick had returned and reported on his meeting with Lieutenant Hawkins. Axford was pleased with, but not entirely surprised by, Hawkins’s impending desertion. “Strathmore is a brutal lunatic, if you ask me,” the colonel said and proceeded to relate relevant anecdotes from the Seven Years’ War. Then, after discussions and plans were finished and a letter for Major General Josiah Hamilton was in his jacket pocket, Axford left to retrieve troops for backup during the exchange.

While the colonel was at the fort, Sam felt it politic to send Clara back to the women’s dormitory and place Corporal Bowman on night watch duty there. Day by day, the truth of the situation had slowly crept up on him, but now bald realization fully engulfed him. Clara was no longer to be a part of his life. Worse, she was to face an uncertain future with a man she loathed. All of this because Captain Samuel Taylor, soldier and patriot, had done his duty far too efficiently. He missed her terribly, imagined her under him every night as he lay in his bed stroking himself. He wished she would disobey his orders and come to him, and to that hope he never bothered to bolt his door. But his bed remained cold and desolate. After Axford had departed, he could have had Clara back, but propriety and duty demanded that he leave her where she was. During the day he sought her out to exchange pleasantries, but there was never the opportunity to reestablish their previous intimacy as friends, confidants, and lovers.

He cursed the war, cursed himself, and cursed society’s choking dictates.

Pat had warned him against getting involved with the wife of the enemy. It was stupid to have ignored him. Sam’s only sustaining pleasure was that perhaps she was carrying his child. His lips curled in a smug smile when he envisioned his son raised in privilege, inheriting a title, and, ironically, living not too far from his true family.

* * * * *

Clara stared through the bleak darkness at the dormitory ceiling trying desperately to fall asleep. For probably the dozenth time that night, the door to the dorm opened and shut. Another soldier searching for his sweetheart. There were still a few men in the room, but everyone was rather subdued that night. Clara shifted onto her side on the small bed, putting the door at her back.

Behind her, quiet footsteps approached, then the curtain to her space opened, and someone stood at the side of her bed. A chill of anticipation crept up her spine. She turned to see. His height, his lean form, and his long unbound hair gave him away.
Sam!
The captain had risked his reputation to visit her, to make love to her. He said nothing as he quietly sloughed off his outer garments, then slid under the covers alongside her. His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her close. His shirt bunched up at his mid-section to allow his erection to nudge between her legs.

She reached down and stroked the muscles of his thigh, her touch eliciting an unsteady breath, masculine and hot. He nuzzled his face in her hair as his hand drew her shift up. He tickled her motte, then insinuated his fingers delicately in her wetness.

“Oh, yes, you’re ready for me,” he said in a soft sultry whisper.

Clara stiffened. It wasn’t Sam. She grabbed the hand that had just found her clitoris and tore it away.

“Connie? Love, what’s the matter?” The seductive air was laden with concern.

Connie?
Clara turned around and faced her midnight would-be lover. “Patrick?” she hissed.

“Clara?” His voice was devoid of its earlier charm.

“Pat, Constance isn’t here. She’s in the hospital with her sister. Susie’s having her baby tonight.”

“Oh.” He moved his hand to rest on her bare hip.

His touch was startlingly titillating, making her mind a muddled mess. “Her bed is far more comfortable than mine,” she babbled. “And I had no idea you would come here. I thought she went to visit you in your quarters.”

“Yes, usually she does.” The sultriness had returned.

He gently caressed her hip, then smoothed his hand along her thigh as far as he could reach. She made no protest and he continued his wanderings, moving along the back of her leg to her butt. He cupped a cheek and pulled her to him.

“And who were you hoping for?” he said, kissing her forehead.

“Sam.”

“Of course,” he said softly.