Angel's Flight (27 page)

Bluebirds upon their nest!

How many times had she fondly dreamed that this center was a prophecy of a lifetime of happiness?

She had allowed herself to dream of peace and love, of waking beside him every morning.

Now it seemed as if she stood alone on an icy shore, shipwrecked, half-drowned, and farther from the home of which she’d dreamed than ever before.

***

“A very fine house you have here, Mr. TenBroeck. I think I shall enjoy my stay.”

“It is fortunate the Tories who paid our barn a visit a few weeks back left the house standing.”

“Fortunate indeed.” Seated comfortably in the wing chair, Armistead turned his attention to the side table where a selection of glasses and full bottles sat on a silver tray. Turning over two conical glasses, he filled them with whiskey.

“You don’t mind, do you, sir?” he asked.

“Not at all.”

“Please, Mr. TenBroeck,” Armistead said. “Do join me.” He nodded his white wigged head at the matching chair standing on the opposing side of the table.

“Obliged,” Arent replied. He sat and picked up the remaining glass, although he did not put it to his lips.

The major, on the other hand, was busily swallowing what it contained neat. “Shall we begin?” he finally said, setting the glass down.

Arent nodded.

“As you must admit, I have you at a disadvantage,” Armistead began.

“Yes.”

“And you would like to preserve your fine house and your family and friends from harm?”

“Of course.”

“Well, it’s all very simple. As you may know,” Armistead said, leaning forward, “I proposed to your cousin while we were both in the city.”

“I’ve heard something of the kind. Although—” Arent paused and slowly lifted his own glass for a sip. “—I also understand she refused you. Repeatedly.”

“She did.”

“After which, things got a little out of hand,” Arent continued gravely. “Something about being taken from her cousin’s boat, about her honor threatened in a house of ill repute.”

Armistead took another sip of the whiskey. “Women, so naturally fearful, always exaggerate their peril, of that a man may be certain. However, you are more or less correct, sir. The lady’s beauty drove me
completely out of my mind. I might add, I’ve been heartily sorry for my melodramatic misbehavior ever since.”

“Indeed?”

“You may be assured, sir.”

“Hmm.” Arent continued to gaze at him, steadily and solemnly.

“My extreme measures you may put down to an unbridled enthusiasm for your cousin. A lady is, after all, a lady and must be respected.”

A long pause followed. Arent nodded slowly, then templed his fingers and studied his opponent. Finally, he said, “I’m glad to hear your explanation, Major Armistead. My cousin is a woman of spirit and high temper. Of this, I am only too well aware.”

A slight smile briefly twisted the corners of Armistead’s thin lips. Leaning forward in his seat with an intent expression, he said, “You cannot win this war, sir. As a man of property and good sense, you must know it.”

Arent shrugged slightly. “Time will tell.”

“Allow me to point out—” The major rejoined sharply. “—that personally, sir, you are out of time. I have you.”

“That is indisputable, major.”

“Mr. TenBroeck, you must see that in this case, there is nothing to save you and yours except my good will.”

“Yes.”

“However, I could simply rest my men here for a few days and then move on. Your larder will be emptied, of course, and we shall want some horses and cattle, too, but what is that to the safety of your home and family?”

“What indeed?” Arent agreed with a sigh. “May I ask your price for this gesture of...good will?”

“Permission to wed your cousin.”

“Permission? That did not seem to matter much to you before. Moreover, what of the lady’s wishes? She does not seem to like you, major.”

Armistead’s face reddened and he slapped his glass onto the table between them. “For God’s sake! We are men, sir, and we are discussing a woman! They never know their own minds for twelve minutes at a time.”

“No, Major Armistead, but, begging your pardon, shall we stop fencing? I believe what we’re actually discussing is not passion, but property.”

Armistead didn’t bother to deny it. Instead, he chuckled and poured himself another shot. He believed that at last he and this stubborn Dutchman had reached common ground.

“You Dutch do know how to come to the point! Well, why not? I shall lay my cards on the table. You can make of them what you will.” “Fair enough.”

“As you know very well, Mr. TenBroeck, if you are attainted for treason to the Crown, you will forfeit your lands.”

Arent nodded.

“So! Not only can I, right now, keep my men from destroying your home and your family, but I am in a position to keep you safe from the inevitable charge of treason which will be lodged as soon as this miserable colonial scuffle is over.”

“Are you?”

“Yes!” Armistead snapped. “And allow me to further suggest that the preservation of your family and property must, certainly, take precedence over a woman’s caprice.”

Arent raised a sandy eyebrow. “Your point is well taken. However, I must have assurances my cousin will not be—treated unkindly. She is my flesh and blood, and alone in the world.”

“I never spur or whip a good mare, sir, no matter how naughty she is. I’m a great believer in education. Proper handling will eventually secure good behavior and—” Armistead ended with a wink. “—an enjoyable ride.”

Arent felt his jaw twitch, but he mastered it—that, and the desire to break a bottle over the major’s head before kicking his brains out. “Would you send her to the city?”

“At once. She can await my return from duty, and our marriage, safely and properly at her Aunt Livingston’s house.”

“Very good, but a lady of our acquaintance must accompany her to the city. Perhaps, Mrs. Henry Livingston of Kingston—our cousin, whose family is of the Loyal Party.”

“Certainly a reasonable request,” Armistead agreed, pouring himself another shot. “Your concern for Angelica’s welfare is only to be expected.”

“And I believe I would like to accompany her to Kingston and see her safe into the hands of this lady or some other good, respectable woman.”

Armistead seemed somewhat surprised by this but, after a moment of consideration, he nodded vigorously. “As you wish, Mr. TenBroeck.”

“Then we have reached an agreement,” Arent said, suddenly
brisk.

“We have.” Now it was Armistead’s turn to be brief.

“Therefore, major, allow me to speak privately now with my cousin. She is high-spirited and strong-willed, but she understands the obligations of duty and family perfectly.”

“I’m happy to hear it. With your permission, a part of the company will go with you to the river tomorrow. The rest will stay here until your return. To protect your house and family, of course.”

“Of course,” Arent replied dryly. “But, may I point out, the road to Kingston is closely watched by rebel militia?”

“Neither they nor the town will be around after tomorrow,” Armistead admitted, with a toothy grin. “King’s men are up the river in force, sir. Just another reason why your decision shows such good sense.”

Arent nodded, hoping he had disguised the concern this news brought. “I see.”

“I knew a man of sense like yourself would. But first, before you go—” Armistead extended his gloved hand. “—let us shake on this agreement. Gentleman to gentleman.”

“Of course.” Taking that bony hand into his, Arent shook it firmly, a little harder than was actually necessary. It was all he could do not to crush it to jelly.

***

“Well, cousin,” Arent said, entering the room, “what he wants is a kind of horse trade. He won’t kill us and loot the place if you will agree to go with him. Further, he claims he has the connections to protect the family from treason charges.”

Still clutching the quilt, white-faced, Angelica sat up. “Do you believe him?”

“Not entirely, although I did play the man of property, more concerned with my goods than my soul. I don’t believe I’ve ever met such a contemptible boil on the face of creation as that man,” Arent muttered, shaking his blonde head.

“He’s a monster.”

“Yes. Now, listen, cousin, I may not be able to talk long.” “Yes. I understand. What happens next?”

“If you agree to go like a lamb, tomorrow half of the soldiers will withdraw to escort you to the river. He says I may travel with you, at least far enough to see you safe into the hands of a respectable Tory woman.”

“Cousin!”

“I know. I know.” Arent threw himself into the bedroom chair and stared at her, his broad face lined and pale as old rock. “Obviously, the men he leaves here will be under orders to do whatever they like if you and I escape between here and the river.”

“Dear God! The children!”

“And the women, both young and old. Professional soldiers are beasts.”

Angelica twisted the quilt in terror. “Mary M’Gregor and Annie M’Kinlay are young and handsome and—dear Heaven, Kitty!”

Arent nodded, his lips compressed into a line. “Nevertheless, I will not force you. We could chance it tomorrow and run, but Armistead has let slip that Kingston will burn tonight, so I don’t think we can expect any help from there.”

For what seemed an eternity, they sat silently. Arent stared at the floor. Angelica, sitting at the side of the bed, crushed the quilt against her face and felt more tears flow.

“A lady is to go with me? To where?” she finally whispered.

“To New York City, where he says you may stay with your Aunt Livingston. He also says that when his tour in this region is ended, he’ll return to marry you. My bet, however,” Arent said, “is that he will marry you in Kingston. He’s had enough, I’d imagine, of slips between the cup and the lip.”

Face deathly pale, Angelica asked for a few minutes in solitude. Arent silently kissed her cheek. Stepping outside, he’d got permission to visit his children down the hall with Widow M’Gregor and Mrs. de Keys.

***

Angelica roamed the
interior of her room like a caged animal, mind in turmoil. Rage, as well as terror, swelled with every step. Her hands pulled at her dress, her hair, the pockets of her apron, as if she could disappear from this place, this agony.

Was there
be
no end to this misery? Had she not suffered enough, sacrificed enough? Her beloved Jack gone?

How could death have come to her invincible warrior? Yet, Armistead, savage that he was, had presented her with the horror lying on the parlor table. And with that fact so cruelly presented, he expected her to marry him!

He was mad, dangerously so. But she was caught, a rat in a trap, in this room, with no way out except through him. The man who had delivered her husband’s scalp...

Like a talisman against evil, Angelica gathered up the quilt top and crushed it close to her bosom. Then, wildly, she flung it, casting it wide across the bed. She saw the first pieces that were the beginning of everything, the quilt, her love for Jack, and all the patches that melded together to bring her to this point.

“All for nothing!” she shrieked at the cold emptiness of the room. “All for nothing! I will not give myself over to that murdering jackal. This is my life! It belongs to me. I will do what I will!”

I am not chattel! I will not bow to him. I will not cower before him! Leaping up, she began to pace the room.

“I will kill myself before that wretched vulture lays one filthy finger on what will always be Jack’s!” She yanked the quilt top from the bed and began to tear at it.

“Never! Never! Never!”

The first of the stitches broke. A linen corner patch separated from the muslin backing with a loud rip.

Stunned, Angelica froze. What have I done?

Dropping to her knees, she relaxed her tensed arms and lowered the quilt upon her lap. Slowly, carefully, as if the entire spinning insanity which had been so real a moment before had simply evaporated, she searched the edges of the muslin backing until she found the tear.

I will not allow him to take this from me, she vowed silently. This is my life, and George Armistead shall not have even one patch.

Slowly, she leaned back until she rested against the single heavy wing chair. Candlelight fell from the table, illuminating the quilt in her lap, all the colors and shapes dazzling like jewels.

As she sat there, drained, a strange feeling fluttered, deep in her belly. She’d felt it for the first time only a few days ago. The sensation was as if a butterfly had been released, its wings tapping the walls of some secret cave.

I must talk to Harriet, or Mary McGregor. One or the other, they can tell me. In spite of what has happened to my dear mate, the egg may be in the nest. And, if that is so, what I suspect, then I must survive. Survive any way I can!