Time Enough for Drums (11 page)

She tucked the wisps of yellow hair under her neat cotten mobcap. “Yes, I am tired, Jem. But I must stay busy. It keeps me from worrying about Dan. And now David’s talking about joining the local militia.”

“He’s only fourteen!”

“He’ll be fifteen in a month, and he’s tall enough for seventeen. We won’t be able to keep him a merchant’s apprentice long, with the war coming.”

She would take this in stride too, as she took everything else—sending Dan off, sewing for the army, writing essays, teaching Lucy to read, running the house smoothly, making herbal concoctions for our medicine, and overseeing the cooking and the dye and soap making.

I hugged her. “I love you, Mama.” She felt so fragile in my arms.

“My, what brought this on?”

“I just do. May I wear the dress for lessons today?”

“I thought you didn’t care what John Reid thought of you. No, you may not. You come from lessons ink-stained. Wear your old petticoat and chemise and short gown. You may change later for supper.”

I was startled to find John Reid waiting for me in the study, for I thought I was early. He was leaning over Father’s desk, and I was halfway in the room before he saw me. He looked up, startled. His tanned face went ashen when he saw me. “Jemima, you’re early.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Mr. Reid.”

“I was engrossed in what I was doing.” Hastily he covered the papers on the desk.

“Your correspondence seems to take up almost as much time as my mother’s.”

“I have many business dealings to wind up concerning my estate.”

I had not curtsied and he had not noticed. “Will you be a very rich man when you are done?”

“Very rich indeed, Jemima, in spirit if not entirely in funds.”

I could not understand his meaning. Reverend Panton talked about being rich in spirit. It was clergyman’s talk, not the talk of a schoolmaster, and certainly not of a Tory! But what remained with me more than his remark was the ashen color of his face when I’d surprised him. Something was in those papers, I decided, that was far more important to him than the settling of an estate. I pretended innocence, however, and kept my voice cheerful. It was, after all, my birthday, and I teased him, sensing his discomfort at being surprised.

“I’m sixteen today, Mr. Reid. Now you have to treat me like a young lady.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for the last year to act like one, Jemima. You certainly look the part. If you think I haven’t noticed, you’re wrong. I’d be most happy to treat you that way if you would act accordingly.”

In the middle of French Mother knocked on the open door. “John, I hate so to interrupt, but Cornelius is busy in the barn and Lucy is out to market, and I need help with the fire.”

“Certainly, Sarah.” He instructed me to read the next few pages of French and left. I listened to their footsteps receding down the hall. Then I dashed over to the desk, reached across it, and turned his papers around. One paper was lying on top of another one and had peculiar openings cut into it. I had never seen anything like it. There was nothing written on it. But the second paper underneath was a letter. I read it quickly, and it was only an ordinary letter from one of his Tory friends in Boston. Then I went back to the paper with the peculiar openings and couldn’t resist placing it over the letter, for when it had lain on the desk, a few words had been visible through those openings.

I gasped at the result. What had first been just a letter was now a message! Only certain words showed through the holes in the top paper and my head reeled as I read them.

I heard the sharp intake of my own breath as I read and reread the letter as it appeared through the openings of the paper on top of it.

My head reeled. What was to be made of it? What could be made of it except the truth? John Reid was a spy!

An American spy? But how could he be? He was an avowed Tory!

He didn’t try to hide it, and the fact was known all through town. Several of Father’s Patriot friends had already commented on the fact that my tutor was a Tory, but Father continued to defend him as the son of his best friend. I was so lost in thought that I did not hear Reid approach. My back was to the door, for I had reached across Father’s desk to look at the papers. I cried out in terror as an ironlike hand gripped my wrist.

“Oh!” Fear surged through me as he whirled me around to face him. “So you’re into my papers, are you? You deceiving little minx. I should have known better than to leave you alone in the room with them. Drop it.”

But I refused. He tried to retrieve his paper with his free hand, but he didn’t want to rip it. “Drop it!” he ordered savagely, and when I again refused he pulled me over to the door and kicked it shut with his foot.

It was Mama’s rule that the door remain open always when he was tutoring me. It was only proper. Where was she now? In the kitchen, no doubt, preparing my birthday supper.

“Let me go!”

He brought his hand down on mine several times, slapping it sharply until I cried out in pain and released the paper, which fell to the floor. I stood nursing my poor hand as tears flowed down my face. Hastily he picked up his paper. Then, perceiving that I was about to flee, he grabbed me again. This time he pulled me by my wrist across the room and sat me down hard in a chair.

“What have you seen?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you expect me to believe you? You lie!”

“No, I never read them. I mean I didn’t understand—”

He took me by the shoulders and shook me. “You little fool! This is far more than a prank! My life is at stake here. If you read the letter, you know that by now! Did you read it? I want the truth. And if I think you’re lying, I won’t be easy on you, Jemima, I mean it. Try me if you will, but you’ll be sorry if you do.”

I believed him. His face was livid with anger and his eyes were blazing. He still gripped my shoulders. He would know if I lied, he always did. He was so angry, I believed him capable of anything.

“Yes,” I said shakily.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir, I read it.”

“And did you understand what you read?”

I nodded my head yes. My heart was hammering inside me.

He released me and stepped back to survey me, standing with his hands on the hips of his breeches, the letter half crumpled in one hand. He was coatless, and I could see the rise and fall of his chest that was heaving in anger.

“Do you know how despicable a sneak is?”

A spy. He was a spy for the Americans! My head whirled in dizzy understanding as I looked up at him, standing in front of me, tall and lanky and broad shouldered, still tanned from his trip, his dark good looks spoiled by his anger.

“Answer me!” he snapped.

“Yes, sir.”

“What have I taught you in these last two years about decency and honor? Nothing?”

“I thought—”

“You thought what?”

“I thought you were a Tory.”

“And would that be reason to go into my private papers?”

“No. But you aren’t a Tory. You’re a Patriot, after all. You deceived me.”

“I had to. It’s part of my job. My life depends on it, can you understand that?”

“You mean—”

“I mean that I’ll hang from the highest tree or the nearest gallows if the British find out. Would that please you? I know you hate me, so perhaps it would.”

“Oh no, Mr. Reid …” I started to get up.

“Sit there!” he snapped. “You’ll not leave that chair until I settle this and decide what’s to be done about you.” He started to pace the floor, once, twice, three times, in front of me. I watched him, seeing him as for the first time.

“Is that why you stayed in Boston last summer after Mama and Daniel came back?”

He cast me a dark glance and continued pacing.

“Daniel said that only spies and some travelers could get through.”

Still he continued pacing.

“Mama won’t like it if the door is shut.”

“That door stays shut until I deal with you.”

He was ever the schoolmaster.

“Is that why you went to Boston in February? You have no property in Boston, do you? You spied for Washington before he fortified Dorchester Heights!”

“Be quiet!”

“Did you meet Washington?”

He stopped pacing and glared at me. Then he pulled me to my feet, gripping my shoulders again. “In heaven’s name, Jemima, do you know what it is that you say? This town
is full of Tories! Must I live in fear that every time you step outside this house I am in danger of being reported to the British authorities?”

“I wouldn’t report you, Mr. Reid. Please let me go. You’re hurting me.”

He realized that he was and released me. “You had no right to go into my papers. I’ve a mind to tell your father to birch you.”

“Do my parents know?”

He looked at me. “Why do you think they’ve been so understanding of my so-called Tory philosophies?”

“And Daniel, too. That’s why you two always had your heads together. Who else?”

“That’s it. Except for you. And now my life isn’t worth the King’s shilling.”

“Mr. Reid, I would never tell a soul. Why do think so little of me?”

“Because I know how little you think of me. Let’s at least be honest. Honesty is one of your better qualities—at least it was until today.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Reid.”

He turned to gaze at me, taking all of me in, down to my very soul, and it made me shudder. “I believe you are, Jemima. This time. But that doesn’t help me or lull me into thinking that you wouldn’t use this as an opportunity to either blackmail me into making life easier for you or to give me away.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“You’ve been looking for the chance to get back at me for my strictness. Admit it.”

I said nothing.

“Now you have your chance,” he said bitterly.

“I don’t feel that way anymore, Mr. Reid.”

“Ha! Do you expect me to believe that?”

“Yes. Mostly I hated you because you were a Tory.”

“Mostly you hated me because you plain hated me, Jemima. A few weeks ago, when you were ill, I attempted to make amends with you, and you would have none of it.”

“I … I was ill,” I stammered, “and I was caught off guard by your kindness and didn’t know how to act. I cherish the book of poetry you gave me. I read it every day.”

“You cherish the book I gave you, yet I can’t trust you alone in the room with my papers.” He smiled sardonically. “Come, now, Jemima, you dislike me intensely because of the way I’ve kept you under my thumb. It’s become a challenge for you to constantly provoke me. Admit it.”

“All right, but—”

“Exactly. So if I had a brain in my head, I’d save my skin by going directly to your father and advising him to ship you off to Philadelphia.”

“I’d die in Philadelphia! And besides, Mama wouldn’t let me go. She worries over Dan and told me today that David is wanting to join the militia. She wouldn’t part with me.”

“Let me tell you something, miss. Your parents would pack you off today if they thought I stood in danger of being hanged because of something you let slip, in innocence or not.”

He was right. “So now it’s up to me again. What shall I do with you this time?” He began pacing again. Despite his predicament, he seemed to be enjoying himself a little, watching me suffer.

“Philadelphia gets terribly hot in the summer,” I said, “and there is always disease in the cities in summer. I would certainly die.”

“You might well die from studying here with me the rest of the spring. I’ll add science to your studies. It’s not a
pastime that females are generally fond of, but I must keep you busy. After I tell your father about this, I shall ask him to let you help him mornings in the shop. You know your sums, and his work with the Committee of Safety is increasing. That way I’d always know where you were and what you were up to. And you wouldn’t have time to tell people what your hateful tutor is doing in his spare hours.”

“I don’t hate you. I think what you’re doing is most wonderful.”

“Spying is not wonderful, Jemima. My work is all secrecy. I’m on my own. If I’m caught, no one steps forward to help. Everyone despises what spies do. And I won’t have you thinking it’s wonderful. Or gossiping a word about it to anyone. Not David or Lucy, not even your parents. They never speak of it to me. And when you and I leave this room today, the discussion is closed forever between us. If you violate that trust, I’ll be finished with you completely.”