Savage Deception (Liberty's Ladies) Read online

  Still, it very nearly explained why Briarhaven and not Sinclair House, which was a more strategic location because of its nearness to the Atlantic, had been singled out as a headquarters. And Rawdon’s letter about Anne — well, that was more than mind-boggling. Fear clutched at Diana to think that her sister had to be so desperately ill that perhaps David couldn’t care for Anne and their three children. But even so, would Rawdon send for her out of the goodness of his heart, simply to please a known rebel like David Richmond?

  None of it made any sense. Especially not Farnsworth’s remarks that she and everyone at Briarhaven not be molested. Who would have dared to give such absurd orders? Before now the British had never cared who they hurt or what houses they looted and burned. Farnsworth must be mistaken, she decided, yet she welcomed such a mistake.

  However, she couldn’t stand here all day mulling over all of this, not when Anne needed her. She had to pack, but first she must tell Harlan of her plans and then wait until after midnight. Then the house would be quiet and the officers asleep. She’d be able to sneak into the underground tunnel and tell her informant about the supply wagon that was due to come through on the morrow. She smiled to realize how glad the Swamp Fox would be of such news.

  ~

  “All clear, Miss Diana. I don’t see a soul.” Hattie turned from the doorway and grasped Diana’s hand. “You be careful, child.”

  “I will,” Diana promised and smiled encouragingly at Hattie as she’d done on many previous occasions. She left her room, clad in a black shirt and breeches that had belonged to Kingsley, Hattie having cut down the garments to fit Diana’s petite frame. To protect herself from the bitter chill, Diana had thrown on an ebony colored cloak and hidden her dark tresses beneath the hood.

  Nearing Farnsworth’s room, Diana stopped and listened, but hearing only the man’s snores she made her way to the back stairway. She took a lighted candle from the wall sconce and continued down the stairs, but it seemed that each of her booted footfalls on the wooden steps matched the beating of her heart. Every familiar creak sounded a thousand times louder to her own ears, and at any minute she expected Farnsworth or one of his men to appear behind her and drag her back. But no hands reached out to clutch her. It was only when she’d tugged open the door that led to the wine cellar and had firmly closed it behind her that she allowed herself the satisfaction of drawing breath again.

  Without dallying, Diana hurried past the wooden shelves that had once held bottles of fine wines and liquors. She halted when she reached the last shelf. A gray stone wall, decorated with a grapelike motif, blocked her way, but not for long. Pressing her palm into the center of one of the clusters, she watched as a section of the wall gave way and opened for her. Diana squeezed into the opening, and once on the opposite side, she pulled the panel into place.

  The candle flickered and sputtered as Diana rushed through the dark, damp tunnel. The tunnel had been built over one hundred years earlier by a Sheridan ancestor who had been a pirate. Harlan, who had shown her the tunnel shortly after she had married Kingsley, had told her that his great uncle had been quite a notorious character, marrying well and pretending to be quite proper in all respects. But love for the sea and zeal for plunder were in his blood, and he’d built the tunnel as a means of transporting his booty into the house. Harlan had laughed when he recounted how, at a lavish ball given by this same uncle at Briarhaven, the scoundrel had plied British authorities who were eager to prove he was a pirate with drink and food, all the while delighting in the fact that beneath the floor boards upon which they danced was the contraband that would have proven their case.

  At the moment Diana understood the heady sense of elation that Sheridan ancestor must have felt. She’d been frightened when Clay Sinclair, a neighbor and good friend, had stealthily approached her about spying on Farnsworth. Now, however, the lurking sense of danger stained her usually pale cheeks with a becoming rosy flush, and she realized that she truly enjoyed these nights when she slipped into the tunnel, more than eager for the adventure. Who would believe that the prim and proper widow Sheridan, a woman who pretended to be a Tory, was in reality a spy for the American cause? Diana barely believed it herself.

  She reached the end of the tunnel. Setting the candle in a holder on the wall, she turned a large handle on the stone door in front of her. The creaking sound seemed quite loud in the quiet night, but Diana didn’t worry. She knew none of the soldiers would be so far from the house on such a cold night as this, and especially that no one would venture onto this part of the property.

  Leaving ajar the stone door on the largest tomb in the Sheridan family cemetery and stepping outside, Diana took a deep breath, only to have it hang like a specter in the clear, frosty night air. Above her, a full moon illumined the white granite headstones. The ornate sepulcher stood on a marble slab, but it wasn’t a tomb at all, having always been the entranceway into the tunnel. Since Kingsley was gone, no one save Harlan, Hattie, and herself knew that it didn’t house the remains of deceased Sheridans.

  The smell of pine from the nearby swamp wafted on the air, mingling with other wildwood fragrances, as Diana rushed about five hundred feet into the swamp. She felt grateful that the moon was full and lighted her way, confident that the soldiers weren’t nearby. Only seconds after she’d stopped beneath a large pine tree Clay Sinclair appeared like a sudden mist.

  “I’ve been watching for you,” he whispered, a shy grin on his face. “I didn’t know if you’d have anything to tell me, what with Christmas only a few days away.”

  “There’s a supply wagon coming through tomorrow,” Diana related and told him what had happened since she’d last seen him. “I won’t be able to come for a while, Clay,” she managed to apologize, feeling like a traitor. “Anne is ill. Captain Farnsworth is escorting me to Charlestown in the morning.”

  Clay nodded his understanding, a shaggy strand of blond hair hung across his forehead. “I’ll tell Colonel Marion to give orders not to interfere with the escort party. He’ll be glad to learn about the supply wagon. We’re running pretty low on things now.”

  Diana knew it must be quite hard for Marion and his men as they fought and lived in the wilderness. On such nights as this when the cold winds blew in from the Atlantic, she slept in a bed with a roof over her head while Clay and other patriots were lucky to have a warm blanket for protection from the elements. She felt guilty and it must have shown, for Clay grinned again at her.

  “My mother and sisters loved the gowns you gave them after our house burned. They’re real grateful.”

  “I bet if they knew the clothes were mine, Clay, they’d burn them rather than wear anything a loyalist owned.”

  “Now, don’t be so touchy. I couldn’t tell them where the gowns came from. I know you’re a patriot and so does Colonel Marion. After this war is won, everyone else will know it, too. Sometimes people just have to do things they don’t like to get the job done. Just be grateful that Briarhaven is still intact.”

  Diana was grateful, more than grateful, and that was the trouble. Whereas her neighbors, the Sinclairs, were without a home now, she still had hers. She couldn’t help but feel doubly guilty when she recalled Farnsworth telling her that the Sinclair house had been chosen to be his headquarters but that Rawdon had insisted he use Briarhaven instead. If things had been different, the Sinclair ladies might have been forced to give her their hand-me-downs.

  “Are your mother and sisters well?” she asked Clay.

  Clay nodded. “Colonel Marion found a safe place for them to live. They’re doing fine.”

  She started to tell Clay farewell when he startled her by pulling her against his broad chest and kissing her full on the lips. The kiss was brief, and when Diana’s initial shock lessened she saw that Clay was blushing like a schoolboy, which was exactly what Diana had considered him to be until now. But she suddenly realized that Clay was eighteen and no longer resembled the scrawny lad she remembered, having grown into a muscular and
rugged looking young man from his time in the swamps. It was apparent from the way he looked at her that he didn’t consider himself anything but a man.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time, Diana. I’m sorry if I’ve startled you, but I’m not sorry I kissed you. I love you and want to marry you when the war’s over. I know I’m a little younger than you, but I’d make you a good husband, better than that bastard Kingsley. I swear I would.”

  Such an honest admission touched her. Clay Sinclair was a gentle and decent person, and she genuinely liked him and didn’t want to hurt him. Yet she couldn’t help reddening at the realization that somehow Clay had learned about Kingsley’s abuse of her. Evidently one of the servants at Briarhaven had spread the word. She wondered how many other people had known. She felt suddenly stripped of her pride.

  “I can’t marry you,” she said more harshly than she intended.

  Clay’s face seemed to fall, and she realized how she must sound to him, how she hurt him.

  “It isn’t that I don’t care for you,” she amended gently, holding his fingers, stiff with cold. “I’m very fond of you, but I won’t marry — ever again. I appreciate that you care about me, but please find someone more deserving of your affection.”

  She thought he was about to deny what she said, but he placed her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “If you ever need me for anything, Diana, all you have to do is ask.”

  “That means a great deal to me.”

  He flashed her a smile and turned away. She watched for a few seconds, and then Clay vanished into the misty swamp.

  5

  When Diana reached Charlestown nearly three days later, she found that the beautiful city she remembered from her childhood had changed during the British occupation. Many of the grand and gracious homes stood empty and in need of repair from the American and British shellings; homeless people, mostly loyalists who’d come to Charlestown for protection, lived in squalor outside the city limits in a section called Rawdontown. The marketplace, which Diana recalled as picturesque and filled with fragrant smelling fruits and fresh meats, was now inhabited by ravenous buzzards who perched on the rooftops. With a sense of sick dismay, she watched as the creatures flopped beneath the hooves of passing horses to fight other buzzards and stray mongrels, even a person or two, when the market man appeared and threw scraps of meat and fish into the street.

  “This is appalling,” she spoke aloud and looked at Samuel Farnsworth who rode alongside her. “Is everyone starving? General Lord Rawdon should do something about this.”

  Farnsworth clucked his tongue in disgust, apparently stung by her less-than-kind comment about his superior, a comment that also heaped blame upon himself. “Heavens, Diana, riffraff isn’t Rawdon’s concern, and certainly not mine,” he made a point of reminding her. “Our people are well fed and clothed, no one who is one of us goes hungry. We have a large number of soldiers to feed to win this war. Certainly Rawdon is sorry, I’m sorry about many things, but as in all wars, some people must do without.”

  He sounded so callous to Diana’s ears, but she couldn’t deny the truth of what Farnsworth said. She just hoped that Anne and the children hadn’t come to such a fate.

  When she arrived at Anne’s house on Orange Street a smile broke over Diana’s face. As Farnsworth helped her dismount he held her against him for a moment longer than Diana thought was necessary. “Should I go inside with you?” he asked in a husky, suggestive voice that caused her to cringe. He’d been such a solicitous companion during their journey, never mentioning anything about what had transpired between them in the kitchen, not giving a hint that he felt anything more than friendship for her. Why did he have to go and spoil all of it now by making her feel uncomfortable?

  “Thank you, but I’d like to be alone with my sister. I have no idea what might be wrong with her, and she could be contagious, you know.” That should cool his lust, she decided.

  It did.

  Captain Farnsworth cleared his throat and released her, waiting until after she’d knocked on Anne’s door and was admitted into the house by Ruthie, an old family servant, before departing.

  “Whatever are you doing here, Diana?” Anne inquired minutes later when Diana entered the darkened bedroom.

  Diana found Anne huddled in the large bed, a blanket wrapped around her. She looked at Diana like she’d materialized in thin air. The drapes were pulled shut and the room was unbearably cold. No fire roared cheerily in the fireplace, either here or in the parlor where Diana had greeted the children when she came inside.

  “I thought you’d be more pleased to see me than that.” Diana kissed Anne on the forehead and would have removed her own cloak but for the chill in the room. “It’s no wonder that you’re ill, Anne. The house is freezing and the children’s’ noses are running. I’ve gotten here just in time. Wait until I see David. I’ll take him to task for not bringing in firewood. Where is he anyway?”

  Anne stared at her dazedly. “David’s in prison. He … he … was arrested for trying to join his regiment.”

  “What! When did this happen, why did he do that? He knew the conditions of his pardon. Oh, Anne, how awful!”

  Diana sat on the bed beside her sister, who started to cry. ‘‘I told him … not to … go,” Anne choked on her tears, “but David has a stubborn streak. He assured us he’d be all right, but … but,” Anne gulped convulsively, “he might be hanged.”

  Holding her sister against her as she wept, Diana felt numb with the cold and her own utter disbelief. David Richmond, a man who was kind and gentle but also determined, was going to hang. Diana shivered with the sickening dread that clutched at her stomach. She doubted that Anne and the children would be able to survive without David.

  “Perhaps there’s something we can do. Have you talked to Lord Rawdon?” Diana became calm, realizing that if she gave way to her own hysteria, Anne’s dilemma would be worse.

  Anne wiped her eyes with the back of her fists. “I can’t even get into see the bloody swine.”

  Anne never used strong language, but in this instance Diana agreed with her and mentally cursed the British general in even stronger terms.

  “Your showing up now is a kindness, a miracle from God, Diana. I need help with the children since I’m unable to care for them now. All I seem able to do is weep.”

  “You’re ill and under a great strain.”

  “Why ever would you think I’m ill?”

  “Because of the letter from Lo…”

  Diana broke off, seeing Anne’s baffled look. She was baffled herself. Now that she’d seen Anne she could tell that Anne wasn’t sick at all, sick at heart, maybe, but certainly not sick physically. But the letter from Rawdon had said Anne was ill and needed her, yet Anne stated she’d never been able to see Rawdon.

  “Have you contacted Lord Rawdon by message?” Diana asked.

  “Humph! If only I could. Nothing and no one gets past his people except for the chosen few.” Diana saw that Anne’s face was flushed, her spirit seeming to return because of Diana’s presence.

  So Anne hadn’t written or seen Rawdon. Then who sent the note to Briarhaven?

  Diana opened the drapes to allow the mid-morning sunshine into the room and told Anne to rest, that she’d have Ruthie send up some warm tea so they could talk. Anne smiled gratefully, but the second Diana left the room Diana heard her start to cry again. Downstairs, she spoke with her nephew, who was named after his father and resembled him, and the two younger girls, Jane and Prudence. They were more than happy to see her, and as they ate some cold mutton and drank their tea with her, Diana listened and laughed with them, but she couldn’t forget that Rawdon, or someone who forged the general’s name, had commanded her to come to Charlestown. A sense of alarm swept over her as she wondered who it might be.

  ~

  “Ain’t got no more firewood except for the little in the stove,” Ruthie told her later. “Ain’t got no money either now that Mr. Richmond is in prison. Miss A
nne is brave, but she can’t make it without the mister. I don’t know what will happen to her and the children.”

  Ruthie’s voice quivered and Diana hugged her. Ruthie had been with the family since before the Montaigne sisters were born and considered herself to be more than a servant, almost like their mother. “You shall all come to Briarhaven if David … if the unspeakable happens.” Diana couldn’t even say the word hang. How did Anne manage to live with the horror of not knowing how David was, of wondering if he’d soon be executed? For all of Anne’s tears, Diana admired her sister for not falling completely apart as she feared she herself might do in a similar situation. “I have some money,” Diana assured Ruthie. “We’ll get some firewood and food. In fact, I’ll do that this afternoon.”

  Checking upon Anne and finding her asleep an hour later, Diana decided that now would be the perfect time to run her errands. She’d told Ruthie that she had money, which was true, but she hadn’t told her how little money there was. Diana doubted she’d be able to afford much in the way of food. She might even have to resort to fighting off the vultures at the market for the pickings, and as far as firewood, she hoped she could talk Anne into burning some of the furniture if she couldn’t afford the wood. The children needed the extra warmth.

  A blustery wind whipped the tendrils of Diana’s hair about her face. The sun’s rays slanted downward but barely warmed Diana as she pulled her black cloak closer against her body and stepped out of the front door. A handsomely rigged ebony carriage halted before her, pulled by two chestnut mares who snorted in the frosty air and seemed oblivious to the small, bespectacled driver who glanced down at Diana.

  The man, who wore a dark walking cape and a tricorn hat, jumped from his seat and bowed low to her, startling her when he spoke to her. “I have a message for you, Mrs. Sheridan.”

  He handed her a folded piece of parchment and waited patiently while she read it.