Embrace of the Enemy (Winds of Betrayal) (13 page)

Tom eyed them both intently, but turned to Hannah. “I think
it’s time for you to withdraw back to your grandmother.”

Hannah
bit her bottom lip. She bent over to her cousin and said lowly, but for Tom's ears, also, “Yes, Camilla, grasp hold of your happiness and don't let go. Above all else, run and don't look back.”

Tom walked Hannah back in silence to her grandmother's room. He took his post at the door. Hannah walked back over to the window, glancing over at her grandmother. She
 stared out the window until she saw Cora leave, bag in hand. Hannah watched carefully. Cora walked casually down the street. No one gave her a second glance. It was done.

Within the hour her grandmother passed away peacefully in her sleep.

Chapter Seven

Early the next morning, Hannah walked the garden with Captain Elliot a short distance away. Her hands lay in her pockets of her cloak. She thought better walking this way. She walked as fast as she could…away from him. He irritated her. She should have left the night before. A sinister gloom had enveloped the house. She sensed it well and tried to convey the message to Captain Elliot, but as was his habit, he did not listen to her. It wasn't within his
orders
.

“I can assure you, Hannah, as soon as I am given the order, we'll depart,” he stated in a manner to suggest that he too would have liked nothing better than to leave. He bided his time until he handed her back over to Marcus and was no longer within his care. “I would imagine after the funeral.”

She rolled her eyes.
Whose?
She would have to make her attempt tonight. Her mind raced with plans. Miss Trant couldn't be considered an option at the moment, too busy preparing for the funeral to help her out. No, she thought, but her grandmother still lay within her bedroom with the door to the garden within reach. Yes, she thought, that might just be done. She eyed the door and the garden path. The wall could pose a slight problem, but wasn't that tall that the bench couldn't be pushed against it to make her escape.

She glanced over her shoulder. Tom kept up with her step for step. She stepped back into the drawing room and removed her cloak. She slung it, aiming for the back of the couch.

“Watch it, my dear. One would think you were aiming at me.”

Hannah turned and stared at Joseph Gannon, who sat looking quite pleased with himself. He grabbed the cloak and looked at Hannah from her feet up to her eyes. She blushed. Entering behind her, Captain Elliott noticed the gesture and walked in-between the two.

“Oh, I quite forgot your guards. Who are they here for, protecting you from your grandfather or grandfather from you?” Gannon raised his eyebrows.

“I have to ask you, sir, to refrain from talking with Miss Corbett and leave,” Captain Elliot demanded. “I'll not ask you again.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn't,” Gannon said haughtily. He patted her cloak and laid it carefully on the back of the couch. “I came only to express my sympathies, I assure you. I brought you a newspaper from Philadelphia I thought might be of interest to you, although from what I understand your attention has long since been directed toward another. I wonder what your brother would think about his sister becoming a British soldier's, pray what would one call it, harlot?”

Captain Elliot reacted before the last word, but was too far away to prevent the last word. Captain Elliot landed a right hook, sending Gannon sprawling along the floor. Anger burst forth from Gannon. He jumped up to his feet, but Captain Elliot gave no ground. He pushed Gannon against the wall, holding him up against it with his collar.
 

“Leave now before I have you arrested. Don't,” Captain Elliot warned. “Give me a reason.”

Captain Elliot released him. Gannon stumbled back and regained his footing. He straightened his shirt. Hatred spewed from his being, he eyed Hannah. “Don't think you have won. Far from it, my dear. Wait. Not long hence, Catherine will be joining me. A pity don't you think, her coming to New York a young widow with a young child, fortunately an extremely rich one. Poor Lydia, that's her name, isn’t it? But she doesn't have much to live for anyway, does she?”

Hannah reacted instinctively, grabbing the poker from the fireplace. The Captain halted her progress and grabbed her arm.

“Try anything and I'll kill you myself. Do you understand?” she cried.

He laughed as he reached for the door. “Poor Hannah. Trapped from all sides. Nowhere to go and you can't do a damn thing about it, except wait for the news. News that travels ever so slowly.”

“Let me go,” she jerked her arm back from the Captain, but Gannon closed the door behind her. She could hear him laughing. She tried to go after him, but to no avail since Tom stood in her way. Thwarted by the Captain, she picked up the paper left for her benefit.

Matthew and Ruth Reynolds announced their only daughter’s Deborah, marriage to the distinguished Captain Gabriel Chelton of Williamsburg, Virginia, now serving proudly in the Continental Army.

The paper was well over three months old. Chills swept over her as his words echoed. “You can’t do a damn thing about it.”

* * * *

Night had fallen. Hannah lay quietly in her bed until she couldn't hear any movement within the halls. She estimated the time around midnight. She eased her covers back. Her riding habit would do well for her needs this night. She silently changed; listening for any noise…any creak. Ever so carefully, she reached to the bottom of the armoire. Placed within one of her mourning gowns she was never allowed to wear, she pulled out a flintlock pistol she had confiscated long ago. Loaded and ready to use. She grabbed her cloak from the back of her chair. She securely placed the pistol inside her pocket. She tiptoed over to her door. No noise.

She drew a deep breath and paused at her grandmother's door. Ever so gently she turned the handle. Darkness enveloped the room. Taking a moment, her eyes adjusted to the dark. Her grandmother's body had been removed. This would be her only chance. She would not get another opportunity.

Calmly as she could manage, she walked across the room to the French doors. Her heart pounded as she listened for any movement behind her. She didn't dare look back. 

The cool night air hit her as she left behind her grandfather's house. A sensation ran through her, a cool, frightening sensation as she closed in on her objective. She refused to think, only react. Glancing around for any movement, the beauty of the spring night lost upon her.

She scurried over to the bench and pulled with all her strength. The iron rod bench proved to be a challenge. She slung her cloak from around her, but her determination drove her until she had pulled it close enough to the wall. Then and only then did she glimpse back. 

She pushed all thoughts from her mind. The whole of her life had
 spun out of control. She should have left as she had promised Lydia. She paused only for a moment and returned to her mission.

From the top she dropped down, holding with her two hands stretched and released. She fell backwards onto the stone street. She held her breath. Only one obstacle down, if she had any chance of escaping, she needed a horse. She eyed her grandfather's stable. She walked cautiously around the back of the stables. She only needed a bridle; she would have no time to saddle. With the stable boys sleeping in the loft, the odds of her not waking anyone at this point were minimal at best.

As she feared, the horses spooked. She gently grabbed the one in the first stable. She recognized him as a fine mount. She hadn’t long. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would break through her body. Her hands trembled. She couldn't get the bridle buckled. She heard rumbling above in the loft.

Shouts resounded from the street. She had no time. She jumped up and rode into the street. Her eyes caught a flash of red emerging down the street, moving straight toward her.

She whipped the reins, pulling the horse's head in the opposite direction. Her heart raced in fear of hearing a shot emerge in the darkness, but none came from behind her. Not from behind, but in front.

A sinister man appeared from the alley. He stood in front of her and aimed a pistol directly at her. Hannah didn't slow, but urged the horse forward. As if reading her mind, the horse responded and jumped the man. The man fell motionless on the street when the horse’s back hoof knocked him in his head. The gun
 fell harmlessly from his hand. 

Hannah landed roughly and slid to the side. Her legs squeezed tightly; holding on for dear life. She regained her seat and then breathed deeply.

The street lay open in front of her…her escape. From behind, movement caught her eye. Turning ever so slightly, she could make out a band of men emerging from the alley with the British soldiers running straight into their sights with Captain Elliot leading the way. Her mind yelled run,
freedom lies before you, run.
Her conscience, the voice which had lain dormant, screamed within her.

From her vantage point she saw well the men aiming well at the British running after her. She glanced once more over at the open street. Then she turned back and withdrew her pistol. She could hear screaming at her to stop. She pointed to the alley if they could make out her movements. She took no more time as she fired upon the one who had his pistol aimed at Captain Elliott.

The man fell down. The others scrambled, but Hannah saw no more. The shot she fired had scared her mount. The horse reared back. The pistol fell from her hands as she tried desperately to stay upon the horse, but to no avail.

The next instant she lay along the street surrounded by soldiers as others dispersed to chase the assailants. Tom forcibly reached down and pulled her to her feet. At that moment a letter fell from her cloak pocket. Hannah at first didn't notice until a soldier bent down and retrieved it.

“Captain, you better see this.” The soldier handed the letter to Captain Elliott. He glanced over it quickly. His face hardened. He nodded to the soldier who laid hold of Hannah.

* * * *

Captain Elliot said nothing when he transported Hannah back to the residence of his Colonel, but the same guards lay stationed outside her door. Tom walked her to the door of the bedroom she had shared with Marcus. He opened it.

“I'm afraid you won't be allowed anywhere other than here at the moment. All will have to be sorted out.”

“The letter wasn't mine,” she said. “It doesn't help that I have no knowledge of it. Nothing matters at the moment, does it, as long as you follow 
orders
! Have you no feelings?”

“My feelings have nothing to do with it. It's a duty,” he said simply. “I don't understand you, Hannah. You had an open escape for whoever waited in the alley would have occupied our time. Freedom could have been yours if that is what you sought.”

“Maybe I'm tired of all around me dying,” she answered without looking up.

* * * *

Hannah paced the room. From her window, she had seen Captain Elliott return. Five days had passed and no one had said one word to her. She waited. Her heart sank. She hit her head against the wall as she leaned back against it. How stupid could she have been? Gannon had to have planted a letter in her cloak and she hadn't even a clue of what it could be. Her biggest mistake had been riding back. She had only herself to blame.

A light knock on the door brought her back to the present. Tom walked in. He took off his hat. He looked down at the floor. She realized in that moment the news wouldn't be good.

“I wanted to tell you myself, for I felt I owe you,” he said. “I know only that you're to be arrested.”

Her face fell. Panic gripped her soul. She turned to him and pleaded. “Tom, please. I was trapped. I have lived this charade.
 I know well we sit at opposite ends, but please help me. Let me go.”

He hesitated and slowly shook his head. She grabbed his hands.

“Don't, Hannah. I can't, even if I wanted to. Haven’t you noticed the guards downstairs? The Colonel has returned. He'll be here shortly. I have done all I can. I informed the General of your actions of returning. If not for you, I'm certain a few would have been lost that night, but Hannah I can't undo what was found.”

She stared at Tom. “This I'll tell you. I know nothing of what was found on me,” she said. “And if I was doing as I'm accused, I can assure you, you would have found nothing on me.”

“And why would that be?” a voice from behind her asked. She didn't turn for she knew well Marcus’ voice. “That will be enough, Tom.”

Marcus waited until Tom left the room and close the door. She didn’t make a move. He grabbed her arm and jerked her to face him. Without warning, he slapped her. She fell back onto the floor. Her face stung, but she didn't flinch. She refused to acknowledge him. He reached down and jerked her back up to her feet and leaned close to her ear.

“Whether you like it or not, you should have listened to me! You promised me. I have done everything within my power for you. This time I can do nothing,” he said within her ear. His grip loosened, but his eyes stayed directly upon her. She retreated a step. “You betrayed me, Hannah.”

She could feel wrath shoot forth from her eyes. “I don’t know what I've been accused of. Is this British justice? Or you mad because I tried to return home?”