The Messenger (40 page)

She took both Polly and me to the mantua-maker and the milliner that afternoon. And the next day she escorted me, alone, to the glover as well. By the end of the week I had six new gowns on order with slippers to match, four new hats, and six pairs of gloves. Though I hadn’t chosen trimmings as fancy as Polly might have liked, I was well pleased with the choices I had made.

I had feared seventh day’s visit to the jail, but I wasn’t even allowed into the building. I showed my pass, but then was told the new general’s orders were inviolable: There were to be no more visits to the prisoners. I left that place light in heart and buoyant in spirit. My time as a spy was finished.

I had wondered how my new life would be. It became apparent once the first of my gowns was delivered the following week that it would consist of accompanying my aunt and my cousin on their rounds of calls and on the Penningtons’ circuit of evening entertainments. There were suppers to attend and concerts to hear, and very soon I came close to regretting the life I had left behind. I may have despaired of ever fitting in had it not been for the presence of Jeremiah at nearly all of the events.

By the first seventh day in June, Aunt’s remaining purchases on my behalf had been delivered. She now considered me possessed of a presentable wardrobe, and I had come to learn those customs that society required of me. I felt, finally, able to manage what my life had become. But then Aunt announced over breakfast that it was time to begin thinking about a wardrobe for autumn.

A knock sounded at the door.

We could hear Davy’s quick steps as he crossed the front hall.

Aunt resumed speaking. “At the very least I’d like you to look over some of the new styles from London with me. And perhaps—”

“Mrs. Pennington, ma’am?” Davy stood at the entrance to the dining room.

“What is it?”

“They’s some soldiers here. Asking ’bout Miss Hannah.”

Aunt Rebekah’s brow furrowed, but she placed her teacup back atop its saucer and rose. She hadn’t taken two steps when the soldiers pushed Davy aside. “We’ve come to arrest Hannah Sunderland in the name of the King.”

Aunt’s mouth dropped into an
O
. She placed a hand on the soldier’s arm to halt him as she stretched out an arm toward me. “Just—you must—there’s a mistake.” Her gaze shot back and forth between the soldier and me. “There has to be a mistake! My niece is a Quaker. She can’t have done—anything!”

“Aunt Rebekah.”

Her eyes fixed upon me. “You haven’t done anything. Tell them.” She was beseeching me with a stricken face.

Much as I loved her, I could not lie. “I must go with them.”

“But . . . why?” The words came out in a wail.

“They’ve reason for their accusations.”

“But—I can’t—what have you done?”

“I’m sorry.” I only said the words because I meant them. I was sorry that I couldn’t be the niece she wanted. The one who would benefit from and blossom under her tutelage.

The soldier seized me by the shoulder and marched me out of the house.

In all of the upheaval of the past weeks, I had somehow managed to forget that what I had done in helping the prisoners escape was anathema to people like her. An abomination to all those who considered themselves Loyalists. Had I truly thought I could leave my old life behind?

Then I had become the worst of liars. And I had only deceived myself.

Jeremiah

“Wait.” I put a hand to Doll’s shoulder to steady her. To try to make sense of what she was saying. “Slow down. I don’t understand.”

She batted my hand away. Punched the air. “I’m saying they came for Miss Hannah.”

“Who came?”

“The soldiers.”

“Soldiers came for Hannah?” My heart began to gallop within my chest. “Why? Did they say why?”

“No. They just marched into the house and they took her off. Like she was some criminal.”

“What did they say? Exactly. I have to know what they said.”

“They say they was arresting her. Like I just told you!”

They knew then. Somehow they had discovered what she’d done. What we’d done.

“You going to do something about it or just stand there?”

“I’ll do something about it.” I didn’t know what. I didn’t know how. But if General Clinton was demanding a head in exchange for the escape, I would make sure it was mine they took. Not hers.

I shoved a hat on my head and took off for headquarters at a run. Beat a tattoo up the stair to John’s office. “Hannah’s been arrested.”

“Your
Friendly
maid? Yes. I know.”

“Why?”

“You really oughtn’t be consorting with that kind of company.”

“Why!”

“It seems you got yourself involved with a spy. That’s why.”

It wasn’t difficult to affix the appropriate look of horror on my face. How had they discovered her? Who had given her up?

“We hang spies, you know.”

I knew it. All too well. “A spy?” I tried to laugh, but it came out in a mangled cough. “You can’t believe she’s a spy.”

“I’ve known stranger things to be true.”

“But she’s a Quaker!”

“Yes. I’ve never had much use for those people. And now I know why.”

“I can’t believe you’d think—”

He came around from behind his desk and placed a gentle hand to my arm. “Can’t say I wanted to believe it either. Knowing how fond you were of her. But some things can’t be ignored. It’s seems she was just using you for your connection to me.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying she’s a spy. There’s irrefutable evidence. She deceived both of us. All of us.”

“Can I at least see her? Talk to her?”

“Don’t know why you’d want to.” He settled himself back behind his desk. Then, sighing, he pulled a piece of paper toward himself. Scrawled a few sentences across it. Folded it, dripped a meager drop of wax upon it, and pressed a seal into it. He shoved it across the table. “Take this down to the jail. Maybe they’ll let you in.”

I handed John’s letter to the guard in the front hall at the jail.

He disappeared with it into one of the front rooms. My letter reappeared a moment later in the hands of a different guard “You’re here for the lady spy, then?”

“I’m here to see Miss Sunderland.”

“Been a while since we’ve caught a spy. People’s getting excited for the hanging.”

“She’s not a spy.”

“Tricked you as well, eh?”

“May I see her?”

He spat toward a spittoon at the back of the hall. Missed. “No.”

“That letter is from headquarters. It says I can see her.”

He shrugged. “And I say you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I have my own orders. You can’t see her.”

No argument would sway him.

I returned the next day and the next day and the one after that. Each time we had the same conversation. Each conversation yielded the same result. I brought food every day and I begged the guard to see that she got it, though I didn’t have much hope that she would. Although I repeatedly entreated John to intervene, he would not do it. “She’s a spy, Jonesy. You have to face the truth.”

I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t believe that they had the proof.

I returned to the jail on Thursday, letter in hand. I thrust it at the guard the same way I usually did. “I’m here to see Miss Sunderland.” I was through yelling at the man. It hadn’t done any good the previous times. I was done with planning to break her out. And I had no hope that I could save her. I simply wanted to see her.

“You know I’m not to let you.”

“May I see her?”

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at me. Then he shrugged. “Don’t see why not.” He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, however, to go get her.

“May I see her
today
?”

“Don’t have to be so rude about it. I’ve got nothing to do with it. Have to be careful where you bury your dead bodies, you know!” He laughed uproariously, as if he’d told some magnificent joke. I could hear his heavy footsteps as he descended the stair into the basement. Just as I feared that he had disappeared altogether, I heard that same weighted tread come back up.

The door pushed open and Hannah came through it. No cuts. No bruises. No tears. Her gown was soiled and she brought the stench of the cells with her, but the barest hint of a smile crossed her face when she saw me.

I stepped toward her. “Are you—?”

“No touching the prisoner!”

She was squinting as if the hall’s dim light was too bright for her eyes.

“Did they hurt you?”

She eyed the guard who was hovering at her side.

I addressed myself to him. “Is it possible that you could leave us?”

He tossed a look at me. “No.”

“Then can she at least have a chair to sit in?”

He looked as if he was mightily tempted to say no again. But then he frowned. “Fine.” He stumped down the hall and evicted one of the other guards from a chair. Taking hold of it by the back, he dragged it toward us.

I took the moment when his back was turned to give Hannah the food I had brought. I reached out and touched her cheek. “Are you well?”

Her eyes softened as she looked into mine. “Ironic that I should end up here. Now.”

“Have they questioned you?”

She leaned into my hand. Closed her eyes. “No.”

“Hannah. Listen to me.”

The guard shoved the chair into the wall with a thump. Took her by the shoulder and pushed her into it. She winced as her bottom made contact with the seat.

“There’s no call to be so rough!”

“Don’t see why you’d care any? She’s a spy, isn’t she?”

“She’s not!”

Her hand slipped into mine. It was cool. And so very small. “Thee mustn’t growl so. He is only doing his job.”

I turned on her, willing to fight, to shout, to . . . tear someone apart. Anyone! I would do whatever it took to gain her freedom. But as she looked at me, I saw such hope shining from her eyes that I came undone. Kneeling beside her, I pressed her hand to my cheek. “You must promise me you will not tell the truth when they question you. Not this time.” I was having trouble speaking through the fear that had gripped my throat. I tried to swallow it down.

She was already shaking her head. Sadly. As if, in the end, I had managed to disappoint her after all. “I can’t start lying. Not now.”

“Then promise me you won’t tell them anything at all!”

“Hush, thee.” She reached out a hand to my hair, letting it linger there for a moment. And then she gathered my head to her chest. “I can’t.” She kissed me on the head as she released me. “What would my word be worth then? When I say that I love thee, I want thee to know always that I meant it. If anything is to remain, it must be truth. I did what I did because it was right. Why ought I to conceal it?”

“Because they’re going to hang you.”

Her face went white. She grasped at my hand with both of hers as if she feared I might slip away. She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, a look of resignation had replaced that look of hope. “I have done what I have done. There is nothing more to say.”

The guard was clomping back down the hall toward us. “Time’s up. I haven’t got all day.”

“Just—!” I spun to my feet, rounding on the man.

A tug from Hannah’s hand held me back. “No, Jeremiah. Thee must not fight this. I know it quite plainly. I hear it in my heart.”

Thee must not fight this. I know it quite plainly. I hear it in my heart.

Her voice had taken on the cadence of my steps. Faster and faster and faster she spoke until her words were running through my head the same way my feet were running through the streets. I reached the wharves and all of their commotion, and I could run no more. I panted, trying to recover my breath, as I dodged carts and porters. Finally, my energy spent and my breath returned, I stood there watching ships sail out of the port.

What had she been trying to say? Did she mean she’d had a message for me—from God? What did He know about anything? And yet . . . she’d been right before. About the things she’d said at the Meeting, though she’d kept herself from saying them for a very long time. But how could it be right not to try and secure her release? Someone had to fight for her. She clearly wasn’t going to do it herself. Because she couldn’t lie. No. She
wouldn’t
lie. She was the most stubborn, most vexing woman in the colony.

And she wouldn’t lie to save her life.

I started to laugh, but then a great cry tore from my throat and rose up through my lips. It gave voice to all my rage and loss and grief. I’d been knocked right round to where I had started: Contemplating how to free a prisoner from the jail. And I came to no conclusion but what I’d known from the beginning: I could do nothing.

Do not fight this.

I had already grown tired of those words. Though . . . the voice was new. It wasn’t Hannah I was hearing. It was something else. Something different. Something new.

Do not fight.

They were odd, those words. It was as if I was . . .
hearing them with my heart
. But if I wasn’t to fight, did that mean I was to . . . give myself up? I waited. For something. But . . . there was nothing.

I didn’t have time for this Quaker nonsense!