The Heavens Shall Fall (23 page)

Marcus had read some of the letters Arnold had sent, unquestioned that the man was disillusioned with the
Revolution.

“
I have made every sacrifice for this cause. My fortune and blood. I have become a cripple in service to this country. I have been treated only with ingratitude. It is not only I but the army that has been treated shoddily. I have come to the conclusion that my country is worse off now than before the Revolution.”

Andre was a master at manipulation. In this, he manipulated also. Slowly the wheels turned
, until Andre now had Arnold prepared not only to turn to the British side, but deliver one of the most relevant American fortresses, West Point.

In negotiations, Andre had brilliantly stroke
d Arnold’s wounded ego with promises of riches and powerful promotions within the new America that would be established. Yet within the room, all three men understood readily enough that despite Andre’s flowery words, Arnold would turn for one reason—greed.

General Benedict Arnold
’s betrayal came not with conviction but a price.

“
I will remain steadfast, Andre. Twenty thousand pounds for West Point, but only if we are successful. I will not budge.”

“
As well you shouldn’t,” Andre agreed. “I am confident West Point will be delivered, General.”

Marcus nodded in agreement.
“The information he has already supplied has been extremely helpful: the details of the French Fleet aiding the Americans, Washington’s movements, and the defenses surrounding West Point. I believe that with Arnold’s information, it will be ours for the taking. The offer can be made and then solidified.”

“
We will use Stansbury?” Clinton looked at Andre.

“
Yes, sir. I believe it will be best. He has been our most reliable courier,” Andre answered readily. “We will have the agreement by the end of the month.”

Clinton seemed well satisfied with the answer.
“It will be my hope.”

The distinguished general in his royal red gestured for Marcus to stay. He lifted up a paper off his littered desk.

In the dead of night, candles lent the only light to the room, but Marcus didn’t need a brilliant light to know what he held. He recognized it; he wrote it.

“
I received your petition.”

“
I believe my situation needed to be addressed officially, General Clinton. It is why I came to you first—”

Clinton cut him off with a gesture.
“If it is acceptable with you, General Durham, we will dispense with the formalities. I do not believe it is necessary between the three of us.”

Marcus exchanged looks with Andre. There were no secrets between the three
about his situation.

“
I do not believe it is unreasonable to ask for the return of my son. I know that there was an agreement put in place because of Hannah’s questionable activities, but I feel that the agreement is null and void. I was told she lost my child. I agreed only because—”

“
I’m sorry, Durham. I do not mean to interrupt you, but I know you agreed to the situation to protect your honor and the honor of your position. I have been privy to the information, but I’m afraid withholding of the information about your son was done on both sides.”

The sudden silence strained the air. Marcus stiffened
. He controlled his temper, but his voice carried frustration. “I did not agree. I would never have agreed to let my son…my son grow up…in…in a tavern!”

“
Hold, Marcus!” Andre rose. “It does not mean we don’t have another avenue. Your son will not grow up in a tavern. Do you not believe that I have not kept an eye upon him? Ask your man Elliot. He had been assigned the task at the beginning.”

“
Andre is correct, General Durham. Be patient. I am fully aware of the whole arrangement. Andre and I have gone over the facts thoroughly. It galls me that the Americans kept the woman from you in the manner they did, much less your son. It will be dealt with in the best possible manner.”

Marcus
’ manner eased. “I want my son raised on British soil.”

“
So he shall, General,” Clinton stated. He held up his petition. “But I am going to hold back on this petition. Instead, I will send a formal complaint that the child left British soil. We need only for the child to return and under our control. Then we can expedite that the agreement was broken. Then you can have your son.”

“
If he doesn’t return, it may take only a little more time. We are about to strike the core of the Americans,” Andre said with confidence. “With a little luck, the war will come to a victorious end. Then the agreement will mean little. At the moment, it matters only that you know he is well.”

“
There will be an issue with the husband of the woman,” Clinton intervened. “He is a loyal servant to the Crown.”

“
I will see that he is compensated,” Marcus said. His mood lifted.

Marcus
excused himself and left Clinton and Andre to continue with the Arnold issue. For the first time in years, he found himself optimistic about the war, about his son…about seeing Hannah once more.

The Bixby house, a stone two-story Georgian home, played host to a lively group of British officers, Loyalists, and their ladies. The small party gathered in the ballroom to listen to the concert arranged by Arthur Bixby. The first strains of the violins and pianoforte resonated throughout the crowded room.

Susanna held no doubt that the whole of the night was an attempt to please the British, especially the
Chosen One,
as she had anointed her lover. Major John Andre had a favored status that was given few in the eyes of General Henry Clinton.

Over the last few months, m
ost of New York had become aware of the importance of the rising officer, hence the need to appease the newly appointed Adjutant-General. Given his romantic nature, Andre greatly enjoyed activities such as the concert.

Andre talked often of his love for the arts
: poetry, music, theater. She supposed it was a remembrance of his youth or the land that lay across the Atlantic.

She had taken refuge in the far corner of the event. It gave her an advantageous view of the gathering. Since Andre
’s return, her life had become a string of attending these lavish affairs, but not on his arm. He had been careful not to flaunt her. In the midst of the revelry, he acknowledged her presence as an acquaintance, polite but formal.

In his leisure, he would come to her, never giving her notice. He assumed she would be prepared for him, whether
he appeared in her bedchamber in the wee hours of the morning or if he sent for her.

Andre made no excuses, nor did she ask for any. She understood the arrangement and certainly didn
’t want to know of his other ladies because in some manner the thought bothered her beyond her reason…beyond her steely, stoic mask.

Despite herself, she had formed a bond of some sort with the man. Perhaps it was a common thread they shared, the ability to hide behind a mask: his ambition with his charm; her emotions with her passive persona.

It did little to thwart her mission, no matter the feelings he evoked within her. It was not love. She did not believe in love, not anymore…not for her.

When Rupert told her to gather information in any way possible, she had known he had meant pillow talk with Andre. How foolish of Rupert to suppose that Andre would whisper his plans to her in the heat of passion. A man such as Andre! Never! As Rupert would never.

What she had was opportunity, opportunity to use her position to her full advantage. She had discovered the secret correspondence, but she could not be privy to all of what was written. Though, it took only one intercepted letter to ascertain that the British had set in motion a plan that was ongoing.

The British were about to make a strategic maneuver set to destroy the American cause. That she was certain. Moreover, from what she gathered, the threat was imminent
, time of the utmost concern.

Rupert pressed harder for more information. He had not eased on her
, even after what she had given him on the French Fleet. That in itself had been a grave concern. The letter Susanna read had given details of the upcoming aid from the French to the Americans, when and where they planned to land, troops…all information that would have been known only to a few American officers. Information made readily available to the British by some traitor.

The letters she had seen herself were riddles. Some talked of merchandise; others in a code of numbers. What was even more bothersome—Andre
’s spirits rose with each correspondence.

Of Andre
’s cleverness, she did not question, but if names were not easily deciphered perhaps the messenger could supply a clue to the identity of whom Andre communicated with. Rupert scoffed at her.

“
It would be a military matter. Here in New York, Andre would communicate only within the confines of his headquarters. It would be secure.”

It also had eyes on the coming and goings of all those
who entered. Any visitor to headquarters would immediately call attention to themselves. This…whatever it was…had been done in the utmost secrecy.

Had she not obtained the letters she had seen from the coat of Andre after a social event? He would not have brought documents to the event. Which gave to only one conclusion—someone had given him the correspondence during the
dinner.

Susanna
had watched the visitors coming in and out of New York. To her, there seemed to be an overabundance of passes given to ladies from Philadelphia to cross through American lines to British-held New York. Those ladies seemed to come and go as they pleased.

Not to mention, Joseph Stansbury. If ever there was a spy in the midst of the Americans, it was he. Rupert had thought little of her observation on the matter
, which told her that the Americans were aware of his actions and already had eyes on the man.

Stansbury had always been an outspoken Loyalist. Yet, he had been allowed to travel back
and forth from Philadelphia and New York with ease. Rupert said he was now in New York to arrange a prisoner exchange with the British. The man made no secret where his loyalty lay. The company he kept gave no other impression, being a constant visitor to Jonathan Odell, a notorious Loyalist with strong conviction for British rule.

“
I would have thought you would be dancing the night away.”

Susanna
turned to find a short man of stocky build stood beside her. A gentleman by his dress, he had light brown hair tied back in a queue and the bluest of eyes. His speech told he had once bore from Ireland. Although she had never been introduced, she recognized him from the other affairs she had attended, one William Heron.

She had seen him in talks with Andre recently. Where did they say he lived now? Connecticut. A member of the Assembly? What was he doing here? She eyed him suspiciously.

“I feel unsettled.” Susanna unconsciously held her stomach. “I do not mind sitting out for the night. I enjoy watching everyone.”

“
So I have noticed.”

She snapped her head around to face him. The way he said it…
 
Did he suspect her a traitor? He couldn’t… no…

“
I’m afraid you are confusing me. You have been watching me?” She tried to maintain her calm, but her eyes surveyed the room for Andre. Had he sent him over?

“
Aye! I have. Who could blame me? A fine-looking woman such as yourself. I have heard about ye. I have.”

“
What have you heard?” The question burned from her lips. She hissed, “Who are you?”

“
A friend who knows more than he seems and less than he tells.” His jovial manner dissipated. A solemn expression crossed his face. “I am who I need to be when I need to be it.”

“
I do not have time for such games.” She dismissed him.

“
No.” He shook his head. “I don’t suppose you would, but if it’s information you seek, I might be able to help you. Should I say? Help ourselves.”

“
I’m going to call Major Andre over…”

“
Do. And tell him what? I don’t think you want me to talk to your 
friend
, Mrs. Millbury. Now, calm yourself. I wish you no harm. I, too, observe and listen. Do not fear. It is whispers in a different camp. An excitement has arisen once more since the British returned from the South of the intelligent sort.”

Good Gawd! The man talked in riddles. He was going to get them both killed.
“Pray, excuse me. I need…”

“
Listen carefully to my words, Mrs. Millbury, for I will say them quickly and only once. I doubt you trust any, and I don’t believe it will be me, but just say to pacify me for tonight,” he glanced over his shoulder and smiled as if in polite conversation, “there is one here who holds letters that we need to relieve him of before he does his duty and hands them off to your
friend
.”

“
How do I know I can trust you?”

Again he smiled
. “I read the
Loyalist
daily.”

The words sent a shiver up her spine—the code that Rupert had set up to tell of a friend. She breathed in deeply. He didn
’t have the look of a friend.

“
If I did not need your help, I would not ask, but it’s important.” He nodded his head as if to withdraw. “He holds them in his breast coat pocket. The poor man has celebrated too hard tonight and will find it difficult to stand. I will help him, as will you. I will relieve him of his correspondence and slip them to you.

“
We will give a polite response and blush so prettily. I will help my friend and you…and you will see to our pickings. I assume you can get it to where it needs to go.”

He gave her no time to respond, but withdrew. Her heart pounded rapidly. Never had she considered doing something so bold. Never had she
thrown caution to the wind, but never had the stakes been so high.

She didn
’t have time to fully contemplate her situation. She had only time to react. She saw Stansbury stand and wobble. Immediately, Heron was by his side.

“
Dear friend, let me help you. Lean on me.”

Ever so slyly, Heron caught Stansbury with his two hands before he slipped his agile fingers into the man
’s coat pocket. Susanna rushed up to help, and saw Heron withdraw the letters without the man being aware of what occurred. Then he pressed them surreptitiously into her hand.

Stansbury would have none of
Heron helping him. He flung himself at Susanna and gripped tight to her. “Now you are a lovely one.” He hiccupped and embraced her tightly. The nauseating man smelled of liquor, which seemed to have loosened his tongue. “Now, Arnold can reprimand me for drinking, but not a pretty lady. No, not even Arnold would deny me that.”

Heron
interceded and stepped between the two. “Thank you, dear lady, but I have my friend now. He will not be a bother to you anymore.”

Heron nodded to
Susanna, who gripped the letters tight against the folds of her gown.

“
Did I not tell you, Stansbury, that Miller’s whiskey will put down a good man? Now look at you,” Heron bellowed.

Susanna
took her cue and took a step back away from the crowd Heron had created. She eased ever so quietly out of the room and into the hall. She quickly hid the letters in her bodice.

She leaned
back against the wall and waited for her heart to go back to a normal pace. She felt lightheaded; she couldn’t breathe properly. Queasiness stirred in her stomach.
Oh, Good Lord, what have I done?

She had to leave…she had to think. How could she have trusted a complete stranger! It had to have been a setup and she fell for it.
Oh, how stupid!
Rupert would be furious that she had been tricked, but he had known the code...

She reprimanded
herself: it was no time to fall to pieces. She could ill afford it. She would simply leave in her normal fashion. That was all. Leave.

With each step, she felt the letters against her skin
move ever so slightly. Nervous they would fall to the floor, she fought the urge to clutch her chest. She collected her shawl and asked for her carriage to be called.

She stood before the open fire in the drawing room. She shivered. From the coolness of the night or from fright, she wasn
’t certain. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and managed to shift the letters to a more comfortable position.
Oh, to get into the carriage!

“
Susanna.”

She did not turn around at first. Her heart leaped into her throat.

“Susanna,” he repeated. “You are leaving? It is early yet.”

She turned and took an involuntary step backward
s as Andre approached. There was an undercurrent in his tone, a sullen expression on his face.

“
It is not that early and I am tired. Moreover, I did not know you even noticed I was here.”

“
My dear, I did not realize you wanted the attention.” Andre raked his eyes over her. “I would like for you to stay.”

“
I am not one of your soldiers to be ordered about,” she said with a great effort of will. “I do not feel well and I need to leave.”

“
It is not a request, my dear,” he said firmly. His face hardened. “Come back with me.”

He reached out his hand for her. She shook her head
and refused it. “No, Andre. I can’t. I told you I don’t feel well. Why would you need me to return?”

A smile emerged on his face, this time with his usual charm.
“Someone has misplaced his belongings. I have asked everyone to stay until we discover where he lost his possessions. I’m afraid that would include you as well.”

She covered her mouth with her hand. She felt
as if she were going to throw up. “I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m going to be sick.”