Daughter of Freedom - Chapter 2

Edits made 19 Jan 2011



Chapter 2

By ten o’clock the next morning Elizabeth stood on a small fitting stool in her sister’s millinery shop.  Arms extended she held her breath as her sister pinned the final fitting of a brilliant blue gown.

“Mary you have done such exquisite work, but you really should not have wasted your considerable talents on me. To where will I wear such a fine gown, the cows have not the ability to appreciate such fine workmanship.”

Even with a dozen pins between her lips, her sister managed a giggle. Elizabeth smiled, it was good to hear her sister laugh, though she could hardly fault the woman for her persistant melancholy air.

Mary placed the last pin and stepped aside to allow Elizabeth the benefit of the long mirror and the full length and cut of the dress. Elizabeth turned slightly and watched as the fabric seemed to change from blue to green as she moved.

“Remarkable,” she said, bending forward to examine the cool silk closer. “It looks like the ocean in the summer sun. How ever is it accomplished?”

“It is a new technique,” Mary replied as she reached up and snipped a single thread that had escaped her previous inspection. “The silk is woven with two different colored threads.”

Elizabeth nodded and then sighed, “It is a pity that I should have nowhere to wear it. You really should not have bothered.”

“What else could a seamstress give a dear sister for her birthday? And do not be so certain you shall have nowhere to wear it. The summer season will soon be upon us. You have more than surpassed your time of mourning. I shall not be the ridicule of the island and have a spinster sister when I know she is quite capable of finding herself another husband. Especially since her house is practically filled to the brim with eligible suitors.”

Elizabeth’s jaw fell open in shock. Mary winked and gave her sister a quick smile as she disappeared into the back room carrying the various baskets of threads and notions that were no longer necessary.

“Mary, for all that is good, you should not joke about such things. Papa is practically itching to throw them all out. I should hate to think what he might do if he thought I had any feelings of that sort for any of them. Besides, it would be horribly inappropriate do you not think? What scandal!”

“Scandal?” she echoed as she returned to the room. “Is there still such a thing in all of New York?” Her eyes roamed the side seams of the dress, then she looked up at her sister. “Papa has never been a woman alone trying to hold her own,” Mary took a step back to admire her work. “I’ve never seen you look more lovely Ellie. I knew this was the perfect shade for you when I saw it, and now I am proved just in thinking so.”

Elizabeth shook her head at her sister’s compliment but looked again at her reflection in the glass.

“You should not be so hard on Papa. He worries for us a great deal you know. He came to see me yesterday. He is in fact, quite worried about you.”

Mary gave her sister a skeptical look, “Papa only cares that I do nothing to upset his current social standing. I am certain he is convinced the entire town thinks he has a turncoat daughter. And you,” she said as she stepped behind Elizabeth and began unlacing the ribbons that held the dress tightly fitted to her sister’s figure, “entering into a contract with the America commissary! Call out the armed guards, my own sister shall now be providing provisions to the rebels. I can only imagine the look on his face!” Mary loosened the final ribbon, careful not to prick her sister with the pins that still remained embedded in the fabric.“He was probably even more worked up then that time he found out Mama had traded an entire month’s worth of tobacco for the beads to decorate my dress for the first summer social. Do you remember?”

“I do,” Elizabeth replied with a smile, “but as I recall when she was done he was forced to admit it had been worth it.”

As much as he had irritated her in by interfering in her affairs, Elizabeth was forced to concede to herself that her father was, underneath it all, a man who loved his family.  She sighed, resigned to continue the discussion she had promised her father she would have.

“I cannot argue with you, I do not ever recall Papa being so particularly involved in the daily happenings of colonial politics, but still…” Elizabeth stepped down off the stool and pulled her arms from the delicate sleeves. “He is worried about your safety, as am I,” her eyes locked with her sister’s as she expressed her own concern. “The marshal Cunningham has returned from Philadelphia and they say he is more vicious and cruel than ever.”

“I am not afraid of that man Ellie. Despite anyone’s concerns, I will continue to do as I have done every day since John has been imprisoned.” Elizabeth could sense her sister’s anger begin to spark.

“I beg you to not misunderstand me Mary. I more than anyone hold you in the highest esteem for your endeavors. I explained as much to Papa, but I still worry for you…and for John.”

At the mention of her husband Mary took a long, deep breath, her anger faded, the glint of tears appeared in her eyes. Her eyes closed and fought to maintain her composure. She sat on one of the cushioned stools that lined the back wall of the room.

“He is ill you know. His fever has returned and it seems no matter how much food or medicine I take him, he grows weaker by the day.”

Elizabeth sat beside her and put an arm around her sister’s shoulders. She pulled her close in a sisterly embrace.

“Do not give up hope Mary. There is always the possibility of exchange or parole. In fact I have a new officer in residence, Major Jacoby from the Provost office. Perhaps I should ask him, he might give us advice on how we might sooner secure John’s release.”

Her sister sat up in surprise, “Did you say Major Jacoby? Major Marcus Jacoby?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth replied her eyes reflecting equal surprise. “Do you know him?”

Mary began to shake her head, then shrugged her shoulders and nodded. “I have met him once or twice while visiting John. He has always been kind to me, or at least seemingly less severe than some of the other officers there.”

“I will have to take your word on that, I have never seen the man so much as smile. On every visit to the house to take accountability of the officers there he is always so austerely composed. But then I suppose I have also never seen him be anything short of a gentleman.”

Elizabeth hugged her sister once more and together they finished removing the silk gown and replaced it with the more practical flaxen work dress she had arrived in.

“Speaking of the major, I am afraid I shall have to cut my visit short for now.  Papa graciously offered my assistance in the bringing of his things across to the island.” Elizabeth purposely did not mention the fact that she had agreed to give the man her bed. Her sister would undoubtedly use that knowledge to tease her, even though Elizabeth did not find the subject at all amusing. It had taken her most of the previous afternoon to prepare her room for the man’s arrival.

As they said their last goodbyes, Elizabeth embraced her sister, a more serious look returned to her face. “If not for Papa, then for me dear sister, please be careful.”

Mary set her jaw, but then let out a long slow breath and nodded. She kissed her sister’s cheek then waved as Elizabeth climbed up onto the front platform of the wagon she had come in.

With a final look of concern cast in her sister’s direction, Elizabeth urged the horses gently down Broadway towards the Provost office.Along the way she passed the large, five-story, warehouse that had once kept stores of the town’s growing demand for tropical sugar. It was here that Mary’s husband, a captured soldier of Washington’s army, having not the wealth or rank of a commission, had been confined for the past eight months. She glanced up at the windows. Around the thick iron bars gathered the gaunt faces of men, half starved, and dying. She felt a sickening shudder in her gut. She made up her mind to speak with the Major at the first possible occasion as to John’s condition and release.

Ten minutes later she approached the building. It had once served as the town courthouse.  Its upper levels now housed the Marshal Cunningham’s office and the basement was rumored to be used to hold any prisoner accused of being a spy.

Elizabeth scanned the street for any sign of the newest addition to her household. She spotted him across the way, engaged in conversation with a gentleman she did not recognize. The same familiar look of somber sternness furrowed the major’s brow.

Unlike many of the officers who had done little over the previous winter months save eat and drink in gluttonous abandon, the major’s profile reflected a fine figure. As much as she hated to admit it, even with his dour expression he was not unpleasing to look at. It was only when he had begun to cross the street in her direction did she realized she had been staring at the man. He approached the wagon and bowed, then offered her his hand to help her climb down from her seat. Elizabeth felt the warmth of crimson creep up her neck.

The major waved to the man with whom he had been speaking, and the lanky, fair haired man crossed the street to join them. Major Jacoby stood almost a full head taller than the other man, but they both carried the air of men who had come from a background of means.

“Allow me to introduce, Robert Townsend. Townsend, this is Mrs. Burgen.”

“Mr. Townsend,” Elizabeth replied as she gave a short curtsy and kind smile.

“Townsend is a long-time friend. I have taken the liberty of ordering a healthy supply of various staples from him to be delivered to your home in the next several days.”

“Sir, I assure you there is no need...” Elizabeth began, but the major continued.

“Such deliveries will continue for as long as my post lies under your roof. My hope is to inconvenience you as little as possible during my stay.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in puzzled surprise. His tone was not exceedingly short, but neither did she sense an ounce of warmth or kindness in the words he spoke, only cold efficiency. The tingle of a refusal sat on her tongue.

“Tell me Mr. Townsend, is the major always this generous?” she said instead and smiled once again at the shorter man.

Unlike his friend, Robert Townsend had a pleasant demeanor. “I dare say he is, but he will never admit it. But do not be so quick to assume him generous madam, he is not the easiest man to live with and I suspect this is all designed to distract you from that fact.”

The shadow of a smile played at the corner of Jacoby’s lips, but a full expression of amusement never materialized.  The door of the Provost office opened and two young soldiers with a heavy wooden trunk between them, made their way out onto the street.

Jacoby nodded towards the wagon. The trunk was soon loaded and the two men returned inside only to reemerge moments later, again burdened with more of the majors possessions.

“Townsend, you have done your duty in the obligatory friendly humiliation of me in front of Mrs. Burgen, but for now I must bid you adieu. I must see that the lady is returned home, and I along with her.”

Robert extended a hand to his friend and patted Jacoby’s shoulder as they shook hands.

“I’ll see to it your order makes it to you by the end of the week,” he said before bowing to Elizabeth.

“And you dear lady, should you ever been in need of anything I can supply, please do not hesitate to send word. Would be nothing but my utmost pleasure to send it and charge Jacoby’s account.”

Elizabeth nodded and grinned, the watched as he made his way back across the street before turning her attentions to the major. She had never imagined the man capable of friends, but was relieved to know that beneath his hard exterior shell was a spark of gentility after all.

It took only a few more loads for wagon to be fully loaded. Once the major announced they were ready to depart, she turned to climb back into her seat. Elizabeth had become so accustomed to doing things for herself, she almost ignored the hand he offered to assist her.

“You are most kind sir,” she said, her eyes lingered on his face. Handsome, yes, indeed his was.

From a hitching post near the edge of the building, the major took the reins of a chestnut mare fitted with a fine polished leather saddle that shone brightly in the early afternoon sun. Once mounted, he led the way back in the direction she had come. Two blocks before her sister’s shop they turned west towards the ferry docks.

As it was still early in the afternoon there were few other passengers on the deck of the ferry. Once the wagon and horses had been secured on the flat open deck, she found herself standing at the rail, the major beside her. He stood perfectly erect, there very epitome of a professional soldier as the small barge pulled out into the deep water that separated the two islands.

They stood in awkward silence until Elizabeth could no longer resist the urge to speak.

“How long have you been in the America’s sir?” she asked, holding a hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun as she looked up at him.

“Quite a while madam. I was born here.”

“Really Major? I had no idea.” Elizabeth replied in genuine surprise. “And from whence do you hail?”

“Virginia,” he replied simply as he spread his hands out along the rail and looked out across the water, “Near Yorktown.”

“And I suppose you have family there then? A wife waiting anxiously for your return?” Elizabeth immediately chided herself for asking such a question. What business was it of hers and what did she care if the man was married? It was all Mary’s fault. The insinuation that she had to find another husband was ridiculous.

“No,” he replied softly, still looking out across the channel. “My wife died several years ago, we had no children. There is only my mother left in Yorktown now.”

“I am so very sorry to hear of your loss sir. I myself lost both my mother and husband only two years past. I understand full well the sorrow that it is to lose those you love.”

They returned to a somber silence. Elizabeth turned and faced the water as the Major did, her mind raced with thoughts of a husband who had loved and provided for her and her children. She closed her eyes, and inhaled as the gentle ocean breeze skimmed over her face. There would be no more of this silliness. No more girlish ideas about another husband. She had proved to herself and her father she was entirely capable of managing her own life. Truth be told, she enjoyed the freedom of making her own decisions despite the hard work and worry that came with it.

As the ferry approached the opposite shore it came within several hundred yards of one of constant reminders that they lived amidst a raging war. The HMS Whitby stood anchored in the East River, her sails drawn and guns removed. The putrid scent of death and disease caught flight on the wind and Elizabeth put a hand to her nose. Any conditions suffered in town at the sugar house was nothing compared to the atrocities being committed in the floating prison that now sat just off the ferry bow.

Elizabeth turned away as a faint scream of a man in agony leaked out from the prison deck. She glanced at the major. He looked down at her, an unquestionable look of compassion and empathy on his face.  She held his gaze, though she could not hide her surprise in his reaction. He looked away, back towards the Whitby, his jaw set, his hands tight around the railing.

Why should she have been so blatantly surprised by his reaction? Was it not the same as her own? Despite the man’s politics, would it be so unexpected that he would be affected by the sound and sight of human suffering? She rationalized that most of the soldiers she had come into contact with were themselves prisoners and obviously affected, or men of lower rank within the king’s army. They were the kind of coarser men who would revel in the suffering of others if only to present an outward appearance of intolerance of the rebels and their cause.

It occurred to Elizabeth she was not entirely certain how her father would react. There was a time when she was certain he would have stood up in defense of any man thus treated. But now, she was not so sure.

Several minutes passed, the sounds and smells of the ship faded as the ferry moved further across the river, but its massive hulk remained visible even as the ferry docked on the northern shore of Long Island. The silence between them and the Elizabeth’s need to say apologize continued until they were back on solid ground and several miles from the ferry docks. She wondered if he would be receptive to an apology. Instead she slowed the pace of her horses and called out to him, “Major, may I ask your advice on a matter of great personal importance?”

Once again she was met a sympathetic look, but this time she did not insult the man with an expression of surprise. He nodded.

“My sister Mary owns a millenary shop in town.” Her hands tightened around the reigns. If he had the same political convictions as her father, there was some risk in continuing. But she had seen the look on his face, and the risk was worth the reward if it prevented the loss of her sister’s husband.

Elizabeth focused her attention on the horses in front of her and continued. “She is married to a soldier currently imprisoned in the sugar house. We have been trying for months to secure his exchange or parole to no avail.” She dared a look at the man riding beside her. “Perhaps you have some advice, some insight on how we might expedite his release.”

Jacoby said nothing at first, but he returned her unwavering gaze. He pulled his horse to a halt. Elizabeth pulled up on her own reigns, the wheels of the wagon came to a stop a short distance ahead of the Major. He urged his horse a few additional steps until his horse stood beside her.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “May I ask you a question Mrs. Burgen?” he said as he patted the neck of his horse.

“Of course sir,” she replied, a slow fear crept up her throat.

“It is a simple question of your politics madam, do you pledge your allegiance to his majesty the king?” he asked.

“My politics?” Elizabeth’s breath caught in her chest. She had crossed the line and asked for advice and favor in a way that had caused the major to become suspicious. Her mind flashed with concerns of her father and the resolve of her sister. She stared down at her hands for a moment then answered him.

“It is not such a simple question but I can give you a simple answer sir. I choose to refrain from aligning myself with either side.”

He said nothing but his brow furrowed in obvious confusion.

She spoke again, “In many ways I am my father’s daughter sir, a sound mind for business and a heart fierce for the protection of my family. I am the first to insist that I should not be denied the right to provide for myself despite having been born a woman. But in answer to your question major, I cling tightly to feminine ignorance and tell you politics are none of my concern.”

She tried to read his face, but he simply looked at her with the same stern expression she was familiar with.

“You realize your failure to align yourself with your king could be interpreted as a sign of your willingness to tolerate the seditious doctrines of the rebels. I could arrest you now.”

His tone echoed the same she had heard from her father and any fear she felt was instantly replaced by anger.

“Then arrest me sir. If the crime of sisterly affection, if compassion for a man dying of starvation and disease is a crime in his majesty’s eyes then I submit myself to you. Take me to prison and give me over to the same such suffering.” She took new hold of her reins. The major reached out and grabbed her reins just a few inches below her grip.

She glared at him, but he did release his hold. “I seek only to understand your motives in asking for assistance madam, though I am stunned by your unwillingness to declare your position. I have yet to meet another unwilling to sing their loyalty the king or outright damn his very existance.” He released his hold on her horses.

Elizabeth took a breath and willed herself to calm her voice before she responded. Her voice firm but soft.

“I choose to be what I have always been sir. I am a resident of this island, a mother, daughter, and friend. If I staunchly declare my allegiance to the king and the atrocities being committed here in his name, then I create a rift between me and dear sister. And if I openly declare myself a patriot I risk losing all I have, enraging my father, and becoming an enemy to England.” She knew her response was reckless. She could have proclaimed ignorance or the inability to understand it all. She stared at the man who sat so firmly rooted in his saddle, the brass buttons of his uniform reflected the spring sun.

He bowed to her as he sat in the saddle, an apparent acceptance of her answer. “His name, Mrs. Burgen?”

“I beg your pardon sir,” she replied, confused.

“Your sister’s husband?”

“John” she stammered, “John Hayes.”

“I will look into his case. If there is any more to be done I will see that you are made aware.”

A full breath filled her lungs as his words sank in.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. “My sister spoke of your kindness. I am eternally grateful.”

His face flickered with an emotion she did not immediately recognize. She had seen the same from her sister earlier that morning when they discussed the major.

Major Jacoby pulled on his reins. “My horse is in great need of a run. Might I have your permission to go ahead? I will meet your at your home once my horse has sufficiently stretched her legs.”

Elizabeth nodded. He bowed again from the seat of his horse and gently kicked his mount into a trot. She watched as he galloped away,  he soon disappeared behind the rolling landscape.

She struggled to make sense of the conversation and the man who would soon take up residence in her home as she urged her own horses in the same direction towards home.