Love’s Betrayal (7 page)

All the talk of liberty had soured his mind to those values deemed important by the British. Yet a haunting recollection and a poignant memory of his life in Ireland nibbled at his soul. Hungry brothers and sisters, mounting taxes, no hope for a future with the rule of landowners—all these things seared his heart. If Ireland had been in revolt, he would have picked up a hoe or a stick for his homeland.

I know how these rebels feel. But in understanding them, do I dare side with their cause?
If he confessed his true feelings, he admitted a kinship to them.

Shortly after Henry had succumbed to rest, he awoke to the low hum of voices. He recognized they belonged to Elijah, his wife, and Delight. Darkness prevailed except for the faint light of a candle, and he focused his attention on every word.

“Elijah, cannot someone else deliver this message?” Mistress Butler wept with her soft request.

“There is more fighting along the Hudson. Our troops need the information. I have no choice, my dear Elizabeth. My conscience gives me no rest.”

“But the danger,” his wife continued, “and you wish to take Delight?”

“No one will suspect a man and his daughter delivering goods. We shan't go far, and danger will be beyond us. Once I make the delivery, I will be home immediately.”

“Mama, please understand. I want to help Papa. God will be with us. He will be our shield and protector.” Delight's voice rang out true as always. If the young woman had any doubts about the dangers and risks of this rebellion, Henry had never heard them.

“What if soldiers arrive to question Henry? Most assuredly he has heard every word. What will become of us?” Mistress Butler reasoned.

Elijah drew in a heavy breath. “I believe he will honor our home. He is a God-fearing man, one who knows the way of the righteous. He wears a British uniform, but his heart strengthens to our cause.”

Silence echoed around them. “Very well,” Mistress Butler whispered. “Godspeed. I'll prepare a bundle of food while you hitch up the wagon and ready yourselves. How long will you be gone?”

Again no one spoke. Elijah must have motioned to his wife. “If all goes well,” he said, “we will be spending the evenings in various homes along the way.”

“Am I to suppose you have other duties along the way?”

Elijah's boots tromped across the floor. “Yes, my dear. Not a moment shall be wasted.”

All of Henry's earlier thoughts resurfaced. A bit of relief washed over him in not knowing their destination. He felt no ill will toward Elijah and his mission. Quite the contrary, he rather envied and admired their courage.
Oh Lord, I cannot fathom having such faith in one's convictions. I am greatly troubled. In my pledge to serve the king, I should turn Elijah in. Even while I pray, my heart is twisted and turned in searching for the truth. But he is right. I could never report his workings to the British.

In the dark of early morning with only the stars and a three-quarter moon lighting a white path, Delight rode with Papa in silence. They traveled along a solitary path toward the rendezvous point in New York with the rhythmic sound of the horses' hooves easing her mind like a lullaby. Tucked away in her left shoe was the precious information for General Gates. The warm evening and the lull of the wagon made for her half-awake, half-asleep state.

“Would you like to lie down in the wagon?” Papa's question broke the silence.

“I think not. I like riding here next to you.”

“As though you were a little girl again?”

Delight smiled and linked her arm in his. “You have always been tree height to me, Papa.”

“Someday, probably sooner than I desire, another man will inspire you to those sentiments.”

She laughed lightly. “He'd have to possess all of your fine attributes.”

“All?” he teased. “Shall the poor man also have my faults?”

“Oh Papa, you have so few.”

He roared, sending his mirth out into the night. “I believe you need to have this discussion with your mother. She might enlighten you.”

Delight leaned on his strong shoulder. “You are going to enlist, aren't you?” She whispered the words as though Mama rode with them.

“I am anxious to do my share.”

“Is that your second mission in New York?”

“Possibly.”

“But you are contributing to the cause now.”

He paused before continuing. “This is not the first time.”

Guilt crept through her about not telling Papa what she had done when the redcoats occupied Boston. “Is it not enough?”

“Not when it plagues a man's heart and mind to do nothing less for the freedom of his family.”

Tears stung her eyes. “You should be an orator.”

“A cooper suits me fine.”

“A man should always seek higher aspirations,” Delight insisted.

“I am, daughter. It is my fondest wish for my children and grandchildren to proudly state their father and grandfather fought in the war for independence.”

“But—”

“Not simply in the capacity of carrying information.”

Delight felt a yoke of sadness. “I understand, for as a woman I have wanted to do so much more.”

“Your mother and Aunt Anne are planning to melt down pewter next week and make musket cartridges.”

“And I will help.”

Papa hurried the pace on the horses. “Your soldier must not discover this.”

“Who? Certainly you don't mean Henry. I would never reveal patriot information.”

“Your sisters might speak unawares. That is why your time with Mama and Aunt Anne must be in secret.”

She nodded and closed her eyes, more weary than she'd originally believed.

“Henry is a good man,” Papa said. “Our plight for freedom is not unknown to him.”

Irritation clouded over her. “What do you mean?”

“Delight, remember how Henry told you he joined the British army for transportation here from Ireland? For a better way of life?”

“And he is a weaver of cloth by trade.”

“Do you not see? Henry is no different than my father coming to America to establish his cooper trade or the thousands of others who braved the dangers of ocean travel to better themselves and their families.”

Papa's words made sense. Although Delight distrusted Henry, he often displayed a likeable side. “I comprehend what you are saying, but how do you propose to convince him?”

“Through prayer and what he senses in our family. The longer he lives in our home, the more he sees our passion for liberty.”

She sighed. “One afternoon Mercy and Hope were playing with their dolls in the hall. When I listened to their chatter, they were imitating you and Mother discussing your enlistment.”

Elijah chuckled. “And what was the result?”

“With the girls, Mercy enlisted despite Hope's protests. Of course, Henry heard every word. At the time I merely found it all humorous, but his privy to the game is, as you say, an influence to our way of thinking.”

“And you, Delight, are the biggest influence in his life.”

“Papa, I'm afraid you are sadly mistaken. Neither of us is prone to pleasantries. We barely tolerate each other.”

“Do you know why?”

She righted herself from his shoulder. “I have no notion whatsoever other than I have tended to him while he recovers.”

“Ponder on this matter. You are a loyal patriot and a godly woman. Of late, I have noticed you are kinder to him, but you have not relinquished one bit from our cause.”

And I shall not deviate.
“You would like for me to be gentle, but firm?”

He turned and smiled broadly. “A wise and beautiful daughter I have.”

“For you, Papa, I can do what you ask. Sometimes he is not entirely intolerable.”

Elijah's laughter rang around them. “Delight, I do believe the two of you would make a fine pair—providing he forsook his redcoat ways.”

Delight bit back the remark she'd have eagerly passed to her sisters if they had mentioned such a ridiculous notion. “Papa, surely you don't mean such?”

“Indeed I do. I see the way the man looks at you and is thoroughly confused, and I see the way you are vexed with him.”

“That is not an indication of love.”

“Is it not? Perhaps this is another matter to discuss with your mother.”

Out of respect, Delight chose not to reply. Never in a hundred years would she consider Henry O'Neill a proper suitor—not even if he enlisted in the Continental army and became a general overnight.

M
uch to Henry's confusion, he sorely missed Delight. Her wit and clever mannerisms kept his mind occupied, although he could live without the sarcasm. She made him feel alive. By their battling of words over the war, he could once again imagine carrying his musket and exchanging conversation with his compatriots. Never, in all his days, did he think he would miss a lively discussion with an argumentative woman.

In moments like these, he recalled his time with Adam. His friend had said he'd been drafted into the British army along with many young men of poor means. Henry pushed Adam's memory aside. Neither unshed tears nor bitterness would bring back his friend. More so than ever, Henry felt guilt pricking him like a burr, for his sentiments leaned toward the rebels. He agreed with most of their complaints.

Eager to depart from this room he had come to regard as a prison, Henry inquired of Charity for a fallen limb. She and Faith secured one, and with a little effort, he trimmed and fashioned it into a crutch. His restless spirit yearned to be outside even if it meant more pain. The weather had grown slightly cooler, and he longed to linger on a grass blanket with Bear and enjoy the first whispers of autumn.

One aspect of his confinement embarrassed him. He earnestly desired the necessary room rather than have to endure one more day with the chamber pot. He cringed each time Delight lugged it from the room—and she was always quick to note her disgust. For that concession alone, he'd crawl from the Butler home. Once he secured his freedom, he would beg Mistress Butler for a set of Elijah's clothes while he mended the huge tear in his uniform breeches.

When Henry was ready to try out his crutch, Charity, Remember, Faith, and Patience offered aid, but he stubbornly refused their assistance and struggled to his feet.
Wish they would go about their business. This is difficult enough without women hovering over me.
Forcing his weight onto his hands, he leaned on his good leg and pulled himself up far enough so that he could grab the crutch. He sweated profusely but dared not give in to the pain. Once he steadied himself, he glanced into the sisters' anxious faces and grinned.

“Look here, lasses. I am ready for a race.” He moved about the hall until he mastered the technique, then set his sights on the kitchen. From there he'd venture into the blessed outdoors.

As he hobbled across the wooden floor, he could hear the birds and smell something pleasant, which was a sight better than himself. Bear walked alongside him, seemingly offering encouragement. Odd, the dog had become a constant companion after Delight declared the beast might eat him. He stopped to take a long look at the kitchen—the source of laughter, tantalizing fragrances, and more than one quarrel among the sisters. From this room came a world he had grown to admire and respect. During his initial entry into the home, his suffering had blinded him to almost everything. But now, spotless best described the Butler's kitchen, with rising bread—another pleasant smell—and the tart sweetness of a bowl of apples. He'd forgotten how wonderful life could be. Henry vowed to always treasure his two legs and the freedom to have them take him places.

Thank Thee, Lord.

Outside in the bright sunlight in the company of the young misses, he trudged toward a maple tree. Already he required a rest but felt too proud to confess his weakness. “I should like to sit in the shade of this glorious tree and enjoy a most beautiful day.”

Henry's gaze drank in the beauty of changing leaves in gold and scarlet. The air was cooler, too, and refreshing. How much he had missed in a few short weeks.

“Would you like something to read?” Remember folded her hands primly in front of her. At times he wanted to laugh at her pious habits, for most surely her sisters mocked her mercilessly. Yet Miss Remember beset him with her servant's heart. Aye, he should follow her example.

“A Bible would be fittin' and anything else ye might have.” He dropped the crutch and eased onto the soft ground, relishing every blade of grass beneath him. He tugged at one and held it up to the sunlight splaying through the tree branches, examining every strand. “I believe I've found heaven,” he announced to the young women surrounding him. Glancing about, he wondered where Mercy and Hope had gone. “The little lasses, are they not out and about?”

“They're with Aunt Anne,” Charity said. “She has a little boy their age, and the three play together famously.”