But One Life Page 7

  “Is it helpful?” Simeon asked, hovering over his shoulder.

  Ethan slowly shook his head. “No. It’s Miss Ginny’s.”

  Reuben poked at it. “That’s funny. I don’t ‘member Ginny wearing this.”

  Ethan held it up, watching the winter sunlight glint palely off the silver. “She was wearing it the first couple times I met her, but I haven’t seen her wear it since she ra…”

  “I gave Isaac my locket—it’s what Mother-in-law demanded as proof.” Ginny’s hand strayed to her neck, brushing slightly against the skin there. “I wish I still had it, though… Now I don’t have anything left of Mama and Papa.” She shrugged slightly and attempted to smile, but it was a smile full of lonely pain.

  Hope surged back to its proper place. “Have any of you seen her wear this?”

  One by one, the boys shook their heads, though the little ones’ headshakes were hardly dependable.

  He put the locket in his coat pocket, a grim smile gathering. “When she ran away, she gave it as proof of her ‘death’ to a friend of hers—she told me so.”

  Ephraim tipped his head to one side. “So… one of her friends took her? That doesn’t make any sense, Captain Ethan, sir.”

  Ethan shook his head. “No. The necklace was given to someone else.”

  “Who?” Ben asked, his eyes narrowed. Ethan suspected he had already guessed.

  Ethan stared at the picture of the beautiful lady with the kind face, then snapped it closed.

  “Miss Ginny’s mother-in-law. That’s who took her.”

  “You mean the mean and nasty lady?” Asher asked.

  The Captain nodded solemnly. Asher frowned. “Is she going to be mean to Ginny again?”

  “Probably,” Ethan said.

  Crossing his arms across his chest, Ephraim scowled. “Well, what are we gonna do about it?”

  Ethan grinned sharply, his eyes narrowed and determined. “We’re going to get her back.”

  Ben gave him a measuring look, then nodded slowly. “How can we help?”

  The older man reached out and clasped his shoulder, grinning. “First of all, I need you to do a little spying for me.”

  Ginny sat alone in the room, the meager breakfast on the floor untouched. Outside her room she could hear the sympathetic whispers of the staff, but no one dared to actually open the door. They were all far too afraid of Mistress Martha’s wrath. Ginny didn’t blame them—there was little they could do for her, and she didn’t want them endangering themselves for her sake. It was her decision, and therefore the consequences should fall on her and her alone.

  Captain something or other had come that morning and had looked at her disdainfully, while Mother-in-Law had made a show of sorrowfully presenting the evidence that her stepdaughter had betrayed the Crown. Since Mother-in-Law had no such proof besides her testimony, she had forged some evidence—notes to rebels and things of that sort.

  Ginny had said nothing, but when they were gone, she had stood up, unwrapping the bitten-through ribbons from around her wrists, and paced back and forth. The door was locked, and the room she was tied in was on the second story, and there was nothing to break her fall. She saw very little point in jumping from the window and attempting to flee across the orchard with a broken leg.

  As she sat there, she heard a slight tap on the window. She spun, surprised. A second later, there came the sound of another tap, swiftly followed by a third.

  She quickly rushed to the window and flung it open, only to be struck on the forehead by a pebble. Ginny let out a gasp and stepped back in shock, flinging up a hand to cover her mouth and keep her from giving a yelp of pain.

  There was a little silence, and then something else flew through the window and thumped to the floor. It was a small bundle, wrapped in an old white handkerchief. Ginny sank to her knees besides the bundle, opened it, and smiled.

  Several things tumbled out onto the floor—a small wheel of cheese, a piece of leftover fruitcake from Christmas (her favorite treat from when she was a little girl), and several scones, still warm from the oven.

  Her lip trembled, and she lifted up a hand and pressed it to her mouth. “God bless you, Cook.”

  It was evening when Ethan rode up, and Ben was waiting. Simeon grabbed the bridle and Ethan jumped down, wincing slightly as he landed heavily on his bad leg. He ignored it and clapped Ben’s shoulder.

  “What did you find out?”

  “Missus Phillips does have her, up at Ginny’s old house.” Ethan let out a sigh of relief.

  “It doesn’t end there,” Ben warned. “I heard the servants talking. British officers came over this morning, and there’s talk of... talk of…” His voice stumbled, his head drooping.

  Ethan’s heart seized in sudden panic, but his voice was calm and level. “Talk of what, Ben?”

  Ben looked up, his eyes afraid, and whispered: “A hanging, sir. At dawn tomorrow.”

  Ethan closed his eyes. All around him the boys stood stock still, the little ones confused, the older ones terrified. He breathed out slowly, opening his eyes.

  “I didn’t expect much less. It’ll make things more complicated, certainly, but not impossible. And I’ll need as much help as I can get.”

  “What kind of help?” Ben said.

  Ethan grinned. “Which one of you is the sneakiest?”

  Ginny soon came to the realization that there were two things she could do with her remaining time—she could spend it brooding on her imminent, painful death, or try to think of some way to escape.

  When her evening meal came, she was ready.

  The door cracked open, and she brought down her hairbrush with a vengeance. The servant fell with a thump, and Ginny winced gingerly as she recognized one of the housemaids.

  “Sorry,” she whispered as she slipped out, creeping down the stairs quietly. Her lungs burned from holding her breath, but she was afraid to breathe in case she gave herself away.

  She reached the bottom of the stairs and sneaked towards the door.

  “Hey there! Stop!”

  Ginny risked a panicked glance over her shoulder and saw what she most feared—three soldiers in scarlet coats seating in the parlor.

  She flung open the door and fled. She stumbled in her shoes, so she kicked them off as she ran. She fled over the snow in her worn, darned stockings and felt the cold seep into her feet, lending speed to her legs in her flight.

  Shouts rang out behind her, and her heart beat painfully like the drums of her mother’s people. She kept on running, her breath coming in panicked, painful gasps of freezing air.

  Ahead in the deepening dusk she spotted a log, and she leapt.

  There was the sharp crack of gunfire, and a moment later a searing pain burst to life in her leg, and when she landed it buckled beneath her. Her mouth opened to scream but filled up with snow. She struggled to push herself up, but her arms seemed to be drained of strength.

  “Ginny!” a voice whispered.

  She lifted her head out of the snow, saw Asher, and panicked.

  “What are you doing? Get away, it’s not safe!” she hissed.

  He shook his head and held out a hand. “Come on, let’s go! We have to run before they get here!”

  Burning trails traced down her frozen cheeks as she shook her head. “No, Asher, I can’t. I can’t run.”

  His face went so white it mirrored the snow she lay in. “Ginny?”

  “I’ll be fine, now go!” she said gently. He shook his head numbly. Behind her the shouts of the redcoats were coming closer. “Asher, you know what I say to Ephraim and Reuben about listening to your elders and betters? Do as I say, and don’t worry. All will be well, I promise.” The tears were coming fast now, proving Ginny a liar. She blinked hard in a futile attempt to see, and her voice wavered when she spoke. “Tell everyone I’ll miss them, and tell Ethan…” Her voice trailed off. No, perhaps I had better leave that unsaid. “Never mind that. But, for the love of Providence, go!”

  He star
ted to turn but hesitated, reaching into a pocket. “Here, it’s from Captain Ethan. He says not to worry, he’s coming.” He knelt and pushed something into her cold fingers. She grasped it reflexively and nodded.

  Asher stood up and slipped back into the trees. A minute later, Ginny heard the sharp crunch of snow and fallen sticks beneath redcoat boots. Quickly she drew her hand close and slipped Ethan’s gift into her bodice. A moment later rough hands grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet, and she gasped in pain.

  She was suddenly slung over a shoulder, and she closed her eyes, too weary to protest. For now, it was enough that Asher was safe, and that she had a knife and written instructions from Ethan. Hope wasn’t all gone yet.

  Ethan stopped his pacing suddenly when Asher crept slowly out of the trees, his face white from cold. Ethan smiled at him. “How did your mission go?”

  The boy’s face was stiff and frozen. “I got the knife to Ginny, Captain Ethan, sir.”

  The captain stepped forward and slipped out of his coat, slinging it gently around Asher’s shoulders. The boy’s slim body shuddered slightly in appreciation. “How did you manage that?”

  Asher looked down at the ground. “ ‘Twasn’t that hard. She was out in the orchard.”

  Ethan’s eyes widened. “She was? Did she make it? Is she well?”

  The boy’s eyes suddenly filled up with tears. “No, sir. They shot her in the leg. She couldn’t run any farther.”

  Little sparks of anger lit in Ethan’s chest, but he stomped them out ruthlessly. He didn’t have time for anger, he needed to be calm and focused. “What happened then?”

  Asher rubbed roughly at his cheeks with the sleeve of Ethan’s coat and muttered, “I gave her the knife, and then she told me to run and tell the boys she’d miss them. Then I ran and hid and watched the redcoats come and take her away back towards the house. She was awful limp, Captain Ethan, sir.”

  Ethan nodded slowly. “This may complicate things, but we shall have to see. Did you hear where the hanging is going to take place?”

  Asher nodded, sniffling slightly. “In a clearing in the orchard, right next to the forest.”

  A feral grin slipped onto the Captain’s face. “Wonderful. I couldn’t have picked a better place myself.”

  It was still dark when Ginny’s shoulder was roughly shaken. Her first thought was that her Mama was trying to wake her up. But no, Mama was dead and buried a long time past. It must be Papa trying to get her to rise and be ready in time for Sunday services—but she remembered with a sudden pang that he was dead too, and buried near Monmouth Battlefield far away.

  Therefore, she thought as she continued to resist the shake’s influence, it must be one of the boys, but usually she was up and awake long before they stirred (save perhaps Benjamin). Was she unwell? There certainly seemed to be something wrong with her leg.

  “Get up, girl. No sense in wasting what little time you have left in slothfulness.”

  She knew those scornful tones, and she shuddered slightly. Opening her eyes, all her memory came flying back.

  Ginny sat up slowly and shrugged off her Mother-in-law’s hand, glaring. Martha sniffed haughtily and turned to go. “One of the maids will be by to bring you breakfast—I suggest you don’t try to hit them with a hairbrush this time. Precautions have been made against such feeble attempts.”

  Ginny couldn’t resist the grin that spread across her face. “I almost got away, so I don’t quite see what was so ‘feeble’ about it.”

  Martha’s hand connected to her cheek with a stinging slap, and the force was enough to snap Ginny’s head to the side. She reached up and touched her burning cheek gingerly as her Mother-in-law seethed.

  “Arrogant and disrespectful to the end. Thankfully, soon the world will no longer have to deal with you.” Then she swept out in a regal swish of skirts, leaving Ginny alone.

  She smiled despite the pain and removed the knife from her bodice. She would need it to follow Ethan’s instructions, but where exactly was she supposed to secret it? Her sleeves didn’t go down far enough, and with her hands bound behind her, her bodice would be completely impractical. An idea struck her, and she grinned at her old mending basket, tucked beneath her vanity. If it worked… she hobbled to her feet, leaning heavily on the bedpost, and smoothed her skirts in as business-like a manner as she could manage. There wasn’t much time left before dawn.

  Chapter The Ninth

  Friday, January 15th, 1779

  Ethan surveyed the men gathered to rescue Guinevere, and felt a stirring of hope.

  These are good men. Maybe, just maybe, we have a chance if we arrive in time.

  “Captain Ethan?” Ethan turned to see Benjamin wearing a tattered tricorn and overlarge overcoat with an old Pennsylvania rifle dangling from his shoulder.

  “What is it, Ben?” he asked solemnly.

  Ben lifted his chin. “I’m fifteen, and I can shoot a gun. You’ll need every man you can get.”

  Ethan looked him over. “…I suppose you could come with me.”

  Ben’s eyes shone with gratitude. “Thank you, sir.”

  Ethan felt the corner of his mouth quirking up in a grin. “If I said no, would you have come anyway?”

  The boy’s cheeks grew ruddier than could be justified by the cold, and Ethan burst out laughing. “You’re a brave lad, and all help is welcome. But what about the others?”

  “Well….” Ben shuffled his feet. “They want to follow us.”

  While Ethan opened his mouth to say something to the effect of “out of the question”, Ben rushed on. “They’ll stay far back, where it’s safe. Simeon and Asher’ll keep them in line, but they want to be there when Ginny is rescued. Please, sir?

  Ethan still wanted to say no, but he looked at the huddled cluster of staring, hopeful boys (so like his own passel of little brothers) and his resistance surrendered. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he muttered, then threw his hands into the air. “Fine. They can come, but they must stay far back, so far that you can barely hear the shouting of the fight. Ginny’ll stab me with my own bayonet if she finds out I let anything happen to you lot, so you’ll stay back where it’s safe, understand?”

  They all nodded. “Yes, Captain Ethan, sir!”

  Ethan let out a long breath, then gestured to Benjamin. “Right, you walk with them until they are well hidden, then join me. Men! Move out!”

  The hemp ropes weren’t tied particularly tightly, for despite her little escapade last night, they didn’t see Ginny as much of a threat. This probably had something to do with her wounded leg and considerable limp.

  Stepping out into a little clearing, Ginny almost laughed. It was the exact spot she had fled from death months ago at the end of summer.

  And here she came again in winter to die.

  Dangling from the familiar old apple tree in the clearing’s center was a hemp noose, lying limp and dead in the early sun’s pale light, the breeze seemingly unable to stir it.

  The cold knot in her stomach intensified, but she lifted her chin and tried to hide her limp.

  If Ethan’s plan failed, at least it was a lovely day to die.

  Ethan carefully shinnied up a pine tree as his men melted away to their assigned positions. He was joined a few minutes later by a silent Benjamin.

  Into view came the scarlet coats of the British Regulars, flintlocks propped on their shoulders and marching solemnly. Ethan clenched his hand around his Pennsylvania rifle and tried not to look at the rope hanging lifelessly from the old apple tree.

  Next came a lady with tangled hair and a torn dress, her face chalk white, her usually red lips pale and bloodless, the skin beneath her eyes tinged violet and lilac. Her head was held high and her face was expressionless, though those close enough could see her hands trembled. Though she valiantly disguised it, she was limping heavily.

  Ethan remember Asher’s report, and he gritted his teeth. He needed his head to be cool and focused, but hot embers stubbornly burned in
his stomach.

  After Ginny came four more Regulars, Captain Garrett, and Mistress Phillips, who looked at the noose with a malicious gleam in her eyes. They were followed by more soldiers who spread out around the clearing; twenty all told. Luckily, they were facing inward, towards the lone apple tree. Two soldiers kicked snow out of the way and proceeded to build a fire, which Garret and Mistress Phillips gratefully gathered around.

  Ginny was shivering violently, her hands bound behind her back and each arm held in a soldier’s bruising grip. A regular stepped forward, placing a wooden crate beneath the noose. Ginny’s breath shuddered, and she decided she’d do what she could to make this as difficult as possible. They tugged on her arm, but she planted her feet firmly and shook her head. The soldiers tugged again, but she tugged back just as fiercely. In return for her defiance, she was violently shoved from behind and she landed in the snow with a cry.

  The soldiers remorselessly hauled her to her feet and dragged her towards the old tree. Ben looked over at Ethan, his eyes pleading, but the Captain shook his head.

  Ginny attempted to shake off the soldiers’ hands, determined that she’d not be manhandled to her doom. She would mount the box with what dignity remained to her. The soldiers, of course, were not willing, so she shouted, “Let go! I’ll climb up myself!”

  Garrett nodded, and both soldiers let go immediately, but hovered threateningly. Ginny took a deep breath and lifted one leg high, hoping she’d manage it without also stepping on her hem and falling off again. She did manage it, somehow, and stood there, turning to face the clearing. One soldier stepped forward, settling the noose around her neck before backing away. Garrett met her look with a hint of contempt, but her mother-in-law shone with vicious victory.

  “Guinevere Phillips of New York, you have been charged with the act of spying against his Majesty in the service of the rebel army. How do you plead?”

  Ginny took a deep breath. The clearing was silent.

  “Guilty.”

  The leaden word settled in a cold lump in her stomach. She lifted her bound hands and slipped her fingers beneath her dress’s jacket, where she had sewn the ribbons into a holster for Ethan’s knife. She inched it free and opened it, sawing at her ropes as quickly as she could.