The Heavens Shall Fall (34 page)

Peace with Arnold’s betrayal would be harder to find. Jonathan had been at Saratoga. He had seen Arnold’s bravery, leading the Americans to one of their greatest victories. Now he had seen his treachery.

The betrayal cut him deep, but none felt the hurt more than Washington himself. Washington had placed his faith in Arnold, stood by him through his troubles…Yet through all the
upheaval, the light that shone was Washington.

As a beacon in the night, Washington stood strong and committed to their cause. Out of defeat, Washington
’s fervor pushed them to carry on with their mission. It was in Washington’s belief that Jonathan placed his trust.

Jonathan readied to depart West Point. He needed only to finalize his plans. Thankfully, Tallmadge held to their agreement. A request had been sent to withdraw Rebekah from Charles Town by any means necessary.

Unfortunately, the news from the South had not been encouraging. The Southern army had many more worries to contend with than a woman trapped in Charles Town. It left Jonathan little option but to go himself, despite the peril it would entail. There was little doubt what would be his fate if the British captured him again, but nothing came before Rebekah…nothing.

While Jonathan had been in British custody, Co
ngress had anointed General Horatio Gates as the new commander of the Southern forces. General Gates had been Benedict Arnold’s nemesis, having claimed credit for the victory at Saratoga. Controversy surrounded Gates at his every turn.

Congress had gone against General Washington
’s recommendation when they appointed Gates to command the South. Disaster stuck at Camden under Gates’ command. The army collapsed.

When faced with a superior trained army, the ill-trained militia had retreated…
ran 
from the British…Tarleton’s cavalry pursued them without mercy…for more than twenty miles. Humiliated, the Southern army was in shambles.

With the loss of Charles Town and the defeat at Camden, there was essentially no unified fighting force for the Americans in the South. Once more a commander was needed for a Southern force.

This time Congress granted Washington’s request, the man he wanted before Gates—General Nathaniel Greene…the man who sat across from Jonathan at the moment.

General Greene had presided over Andre
’s trial. Highly thought of by Washington, Jonathan knew Greene mostly by reputation, as a competent and gifted commander. Greene had served at Valley Forge, but Jonathan hadn’t many encounters with the general until now.

“
I understand your concern for your wife and comprehend the importance. The request stemmed from Tallmadge, and I know his work.”

Jonathan
’s nod acknowledged the truth. “I need help to get back to Charles Town and get Rebekah out. I want only to take my wife out of harm’s way. I have been informed the British are blocking her exit.”

“
That is what I have been told. From what I understand, it is not the first time the British have denied an American wife exit when it served to their purpose. Did they not keep McIntosh’s wife in Savannah when they first occupied the town?”

“
They used her when we lay siege to Savannah as a ploy to delay until they could get reinforcements. I do not want Rebekah to be put in that position.”

“
You have a plan?”

“
I know men I can trust to help me, if that is what you ask.”

“
I confess I do have an ulterior motive for our talk.” Greene smiled, a cordial smile. “You leave for the South soon?”

“
Yes, sir. As soon as all is arranged.”

“
Could I request a favor of you?” Greene asked. Not waiting for an answer, he continued. “We are in a precarious situation in the South. I have need of good, strong military men. I have written a letter to one. Daniel Morgan. I believe you have served with him.”

Jonathan almost laughed. Greene had maneuvered the situation to his advantage. It had been his intent from the start for Jonathan to deliver the letter to Morgan personally.

Greene hadn’t even been officially named the command, but he had already begun the task of rebuilding his army. If Morgan was high on Greene’s list, then the South was gaining a leader they so desperately needed.

Though, Jonathan realized that Greene had been given an impossible task to transform what was left of the Southern army into a semblance of fighting soldiers. But Greene seemed like a man who would not back away from this challenge.

Jonathan gave Greene the answer he wanted to hear. “I will visit Morgan on my journey south.”

“
Good. Convince him to return. Tell him he is needed,” Greene said, perfectly serious. “We have our work cut out for us, but I have faith that we will do so. I have hopes of working alongside of the Swamp Fox as well.”

“
We?”

“
But of course. You have a reputation, Dr. Corbett. I assumed after we see to your wife’s safety that you will be back with us. Is there an issue?”

“
You understand I was paroled. The British laid out—”

“
I’m fully aware of the limitations the British have placed upon you,” Greene acknowledged. He leaned his elbows on his desk with his hands intertwined. He eyed Jonathan intensely. “You are a God-fearing man, Dr. Corbett?”

Jonathan nodded.

“I believe our fate lies in God’s hands. Does it not make you wonder? You were there when Andre was apprehended. If you had not been, there is a good chance that Arnold’s betrayal would have been a success. Does it not make you ponder the possibilities?”

The thought brought back a remembrance of words Jonathan once heard
recited from a letter Thomas Jefferson received from another Virginian, John Page— 
We know the race is not to the swift nor the battle to the strong. Do you not think an Angel rides in the whirlwind and directs this storm?

Was there divine intervention guiding this fight? Jonathan could not answer, but also would not question.

“So you are saying that God will protect me?” Jonathan tried to make light of the turn the conversation had taken.

“
No, Dr. Corbett,” Greene replied. “I’m saying your fate lies in God’s hands. Your service lies in mine. As I said before, I need good men. I need you. Prepare to leave in the morning. I will have all the necessary paperwork drawn up.”

Jonathan was dismissed. He had been given his orders. He was going
back to the South once more, back to rescue his wife and…to win this damn war. He got the impression Greene would accept nothing less.

With the morning sun, Jonathan rode away from West Point in high spirits. Months had separated him from Rebekah. Their parting had made it difficult for him to live with himself, but she had never been far from his mind and never out of his heart.

He had no right to be forgiven for his harsh treatment of her when he believed she had betrayed him. In truth, he didn’t deserve her. God, though, he missed her and wanted only the opportunity to win her back.

Under no illusions, he realized the danger Rebekah
was living with, as long as she was within the boundary of Charles Town. She played with fire when she used Durham to save him. Clever enough to figure out what she had done or even suspect her of doing, Jonathan feared she would face Durham’s wrath, knowing well he would not be merciful.

His greatest concern, though, lay with his nemesis, Black Rory. He did not trust the man
, especially with Rebekah at her most vulnerable. He worried, but his worries eased over the last week.

Correspondence was almost impossible, but the heavens had sh
ined upon him. While held by the British, he had not been allowed any communication. Upon his release, he had sent a brief, stilted letter to Rebecca, informing her that he had survived his ordeal and inquired of her welfare.

In his arrogance, he had written to her that he had forgiven her. He told her he understood her reasoning, that in time he would trust her again…Then he had been humbled when he discovered all she had done—the least of which had been saving him.

There was so much he wanted to tell her. In the end, he sent her word.

My beloved wife, I abjectly beg your forgiveness. I am coming for you.

My love always. J

Jonathan had not expected to receive a reply before he departed, but it had come…

My beloved husband, Nothing would make me happier than to be in your arms once more. I will be counting the days and nights until I see you again. Be safe, my darling. Yours forever, R.

A hard road lay before him. He knew the South he would encounter
: the merciless enemy, the unforgiving weather, the rough terrain. But he made a promise and would not fail. He nudged his horse and set upon his course.

The Heavens opened wide and the rains fell…

February, 1781

New York

Shadows fell on her prison wall in the early hours of the afternoon. The small window high above her was the only telling sign of the passage of time. Susanna sat alone in her small room, her prison for the last few months.

She had been taken to the Sugar House after her arrest. There had been no more interrogations, not after her confession. She became resigned to her fate, knowing nothing could save her from the wrath of the British.

The reprieve given was no more. Her babe had been born no less than forty-eight hours earlier, a healthy child by the sound of his cries. It was of no surprise he had arrived a couple of weeks earlier than expected, not after what she had endured.

She had not been allowed to see him or hold him. It had pierced her heart. He had been taken immediately out of the room
. She was left alone with a gut-wrenching pain.

The babe had been her source of strength over the course of her imprisonment. While she had lived outside these walls
, she had never longed for a child, but she yearned for the one who had been unmercifully jerked from her body.

There had been no comfort within her confinement. Nothing had been promised her, only that her child…Andre
’s child…would not suffer for her crimes.

She discovered the depth of abhorrence the British held for her. She had been allowed no visitors, no letters, no communication of any kind. The comforts of her life before the imprisonment had become only a
distant memory.

Dirty
, matted hair, a threadbare gown: a sight she must look. And the stench…

She heard a door open and close. Over the months she had been held, she had become accustomed to the sounds. Footsteps passed along the passage
and stopped outside the door. A key turned and the door opened.

Her tormentor since her imprisonment, Lieutenant Bradford, entered. She hated the man before her arrest
; she detested him now. Under no illusion, she comprehended he visited her at intervals to ensure her misery.

In the past, she gave him no satisfaction, made no pleas, or cries for leniency. She simply ignored him, but this day the expression upon his face frightened her.

“It is time, Mrs. Millbury.”

“
Time?” Susanna questioned. Her heart leaped into her throat. “I’m being taken to the
Jersey
?”

She expected she was to be moved to the dreaded prison ship. After her confession, General Durham informed her
that it was her sentence. It was also her fear. She doubted she would survive the imprisonment on board. She had heard of the cruel atrocities on the ship, but it was the thought of never seeing her son that was like a knife in the heart.

Lieutenant Bradford gave her no answer. Instead, he said only,
“Follow me.”

She hesitated.
“Please, Lieutenant, before I’m taken to the
Jersey
, can I not have a glimpse of my son?”

Immediately, she recognized her mistake. She had shown a weakness.

A
malevolent smiled crossed his lips. “You will never see the child, but know he will be raised in a good, loyal household, one that abhors you. Your child will never know of you. He will never hear your name.”

“
What have you done?” Her voice rose sharply and betrayed the pain the news bore.

He laughed.
“Your former lover, Arnett, has taken the child to raise him as his own.”

“
Rupert…Rupert has taken my child…” She choked back her words.

“
What better revenge to take against you!”

Susanna
crumbled to the floor. Not able to contain her overwhelming emotions, she wept. Not for the reason the lieutenant thought…no, her son, her precious child was safe! Rupert could not save her, but had not forgotten her…

Lieutenant Bradford continued his seemingly torturous words
. “He took him as his son. He gave him his name, Rupert Arnett, Junior.”

She made no move to stand. She hadn
’t the strength. Feeling a hand upon her arm, she was thrust upward.

“
Enough of this.”

“
Do not touch me!” She jerked back her arm. She straightened out her ill-worn gown and composed herself, in an effort to regain a semblance of dignity.

He sneered and pushed her forward out the open door. To her surprise, she discovered an escort of four guards. Strange. Did they believe she was capable of trying to escape?

She was immediately surrounded by the sentries. She walked in the middle and was led out the passage. She remembered the walk when she entered her prison, but they took a turn down a dark hall.

A sentry stationed at the end of the corridor opened a door. She walked into a
huge, open chamber. She halted. Suddenly she was more afraid than she had ever been in her life. She stood in front of a set of gallows.

A crowd of soldiers had gathered…gathered for an execution. With a shiver, she realized it was hers. Before the night set in darkness, she would be dead.

How could this be happening? They had given her no notice to prepare. Then comprehension sank within her that it had always been their intent. She was an embarrassment to their beloved hero…to the mission that was supposed to have ended the war...General Clinton himself.

Their intent was to humiliate her, disgrace her in her death. But it was not what she felt. She didn
’t want to die. Every fiber of her being cried to live, but a sense of peace overwhelmed her.

With
her confession, she had attempted to shield the network, Rupert, and Hannah. With the knowledge Rupert had her son, comprehension sank deep within her she had been successful. The British plot had been foiled. The cause lived.

Susanna
had been lost after Walter. She existed, but had not lived. Odd that she found purpose in life with her death.

H
er heart stilled as she looked up at the scaffolds. She prayed to God to forgive her of her many sins. She prayed for strength and that she would lay her life down for a purpose, so her son could grow up in peace and prosperity that the freedom of this new country promised.

A hand pushed her from behind. She couldn
’t feel her legs, but she urged them forward. She wouldn’t falter. She refused to lament her fate in front of the enemy.

She walked
toward the stairs…so many steps. With each step, faces of her past appeared. A vengeful Grandfather. A loving Walter. A determined Hannah. An anxious Rupert. The ill-fated Andre. One last thought of the one she had never seen…her son.

She consciously willed herself not to collapse, but she couldn
’t contain the tears that flowed down her cheeks. Harsh hands grabbed her hands and tied them behind her back. She cried out in pain.

Lieutenant Bradford sneered,
“I’m certain you now regret your actions.”

“
I regret nothing,” Susanna said. “For I die an American.”

She said nothing more as the noose was placed around her neck.

* * * *

In the lingering afterglow of a winter
’s sun setting, Hannah sat on one of the large rocks along the shoreline. Her eyes fixed upon the ever flowing water. Back and forth, the tide trickled over the rocks and pebbles.

A harsh wind swirled around her. She clutched her cloak tighter about her in a vain effort to keep the chill from her body. Though, in truth, she didn
’t mind the cold.

A
current of disbelief ran through her mind. Susanna was gone. The British had…murdered her. She hadn’t even known Susanna was in New York. She had been told Susanna had moved to England with Clarissa and Aunt Leona.

Susanna
’s presence had been purposely withheld for a reason, a reason that had left Hannah in great distress. The network had replaced her with Susanna. Because of her, Susanna had turned into a spy and had paid the ultimate price.

Giles endeavored
they live their lives in a semblance of normalcy. She knew her husband well. He had never intended to tell her about Susanna. He hadn’t. Rupert had. Her eyes narrowed with pain as she remembered.

When she received a request to join the Arnetts for tea, she had assumed it had come from Rupert
’s mother, Sylvia Arnett. The Arnetts were one of the most respected families in Setauket, much like the Randolphs had been in Williamsburg.

Hannah had called upon Sylvia Arnett once before with
Alice Beckett. She found Mrs. Arnett to be a woman of refinement and a warm hostess. This time the invitation came only for her, but she thought nothing of it. She had seen Mrs. Arnett at church on the last Sunday and the lady had mentioned her intent to have Hannah over to visit.

The Arnetts
’ lovely home sat on the outskirts of town down a long lane lined with sycamore trees. The elegant two-story white house had an extended porch with four columns. Hannah remembered it held one of the most magnificent gardens, but she would not get to enjoy it this day, for it sat dormant in the winter’s cold.

T
he butler escorted Hannah into a large hall floored with an opal polished marble that stretched through the center of the house. To the left sat a burl walnut table with French barley twist legs; the right, a wide winding staircase.

To Hannah
’s surprise, she was shown not into the drawing room, but the library. She glanced around the somber, elegant room. Burgundy velvet curtains hung drawn over the windows. A cream rug covered in swirls of burgundy lay on the floor; a settee and two brocatelle upholstery chairs sat across from a mahogany desk.

Then she saw her host
, quite unprepared for the sight…the last person she expected to see— Rupert Arnett. Nor was she prepared for his introduction of his son.

Shocked
and stunned, Hannah listened to Rupert’s tale. No…no…no. Susanna could not be dead. How could this man allow Susanna to spy? Susanna was only supposed to deliver the papers Hannah had stolen from her grandfather to Rupert. What had happened that it was deemed necessary to place Susanna in such danger?

It was a foolish question. Hannah knew well
Susanna must have had access to the British officers. Rupert would not pass up an opportunity to undermine the British. It was his mission.

But it was not his mission to take
Susanna’s child as his own. Hannah saw guilt riddled the man; obviously he blamed himself. She had never seen a man so distressed and overcome with emotion, outpouring his soul to her as if he needed her forgiveness.

“
There was nothing I could have done. I told Susanna I could do nothing if she was caught. I could do nothing for anyone,” he said with such sadness. “But I tried. It was the reason for General Durham’s visit to you. I thought he would be more lenient if he saw his son. A desperate move, thinking the British would show mercy.

“
With Susanna’s confession, she gave to me the protection I could not her. She made me out to be her enemy. That repugnant Lieutenant Bradford thought I was one of them. He told to me their every move. I used it to manipulate obtaining the babe. Bradford thought I hated Susanna. How wrong he was…”

His words hung in the air. Hannah could find no voice. Her heart pierced.

Finally, Rupert spoke. “Susanna was kept in a cell at the Sugar House until the babe was born. Durham informed me that she would be taken to the
Jersey
afterwards. I thought…I thought…at least she would be alive. Clothes and food could be sent…but Durham was wrong.”

Suddenly, Hannah saw tears roll down Rupert
’s cheeks. His composure faltered.

“
It was officially recorded that she was sent to the
Jersey
…but…but that damn Bradford bragged to me what had occurred…in great detail…laughing…I do not doubt him.”

“
Oh, Rupert, if you had only told me, I would have pleaded with Marcus for her life.”

“
To what avail?” Rupert shook his head and shrugged. “In truth, Durham had to suspect that Susanna’s confession was false concerning you. If he began to question all she had said, then her sacrifice would have been for naught. She did so to protect the network. Surely if any understand her reasoning, it would be you.”

Soberly, she recalled her own actions. She understood only too well.

“Giles thought the news would only bring you sorrow, but I felt you have a right to know. Susanna needs to be remembered. I have sworn to raise her son as my own. He will know…he will know how brave and noble she was to have sacrificed for the good of all.”

The broken man covered his face and cried.

Hannah felt a chill move over her body. She stared out over the Sound. Her anger grew. Susanna did not deserve to die in such a manner. Once more it had been the British in their arrogance.