A Spy, page 16
“John, I worry for you. You can’t go, it’s too dangerous.”
John gave a small sigh. “I will be up the Hudson River for only a few days at most. I’ll return in time so I can see you off to England.”
“But I want to remain here.”
“With a war going on, do you think I have time to care for an unattached woman who is with child?”
Moving to his side, she touched his arm. “I do not mean to be a burden.”
He gave her a sad smile. “You are not a burden, Mattie. I was only…”
“John, I plead you to stay.”
Her brother fell still.
“This is a fruitless pursuit—chasing after a Continental general as if he could easily change loyalties at the flip of a coin,” Mary scoffed.
Holding up a large amount of money, John shook his head. “He most certainly is changing loyalties at the flip of a coin.”
Mary clutched his arm. “Then perhaps there is someone else you could send. Is it truly wise for you—a high ranking officer—to go risking your life in enemy territory? It would be more suitable to send a foot soldier, don’t you agree?”
“Mattie—” John stepped away, carrying his things into the front hallway.
“Please, John, listen to me,” Mary rushed after him, “you don’t have to go. Stay here, with me.”
“Mary,” John’s voice was firm, “I cannot send another man—the General has requested specifically that I was the one to meet with him.”
“It could be a trap!” Mary grasped for a foothold in the conversation.
“Mattie…” The clasp of his cloak secure, John placed his hands on Mary’s arms. “Why are you in such fear over my leaving?”
“I…”
Shaking his head, he picked up his bag.
“Think of Peggy—she wouldn’t want you to risk your life, John, not even for her sake.” Mary reached out for him. “You need to let her go. Please, stay—”
“Enough!”
Mary flinched.
Taking a slow breath, John hung his head. “I’m sorry.”
She trembled, fighting to hold back her tears. The fight was lost when her brother reached out to cup her cheek in his hand.
“I must go. And you must, too.”
Mary raised her eyes to his, tears spilling down her curved cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs. “John…”
“My sweet Mattie do not fret for me. I will return in time to see you off to England, I promise. And I’ll come visit you when my nephew is born.” He kissed her on the cheek, gave her a quick embrace, and turned to the door.
“You think it will be a boy?”
He gave her a long look. “I know it.” Then he hurried down the steps.
The door hung open, a chill breeze cutting through the warmth of the glowing sunlight outside.
A shiver raked its way down Mary’s spine, cutting deep to her heart. She wept silently, staring through the doorway.
An eerie silence lingered throughout the household for the following days. Mary’s restless anxieties descended into a numb dread as each day passed. Her eyes returned repeatedly to the doorway, waiting, expecting John to walk through and calm her nerves with his charming smile.
The morning of Mary’s departure for England arrived. Mary wondered if she should merely leave and make her way back to her husband, wherever he may be stationed. No word had reached her from Robert Townsend. But something halted her from following through on her desire to return to Benjamin.
She needed to know that her brother was alive. Needed to know that he was back in the safety of their home, despite her betrayal. And…secretly…she found herself longing for England. Something about the child growing inside of her made her relentlessly recollect her own childhood and the tender care of her mother. As the fears of delivering her first child mounted, so did her want for the womanly reassurance that only a mother could provide.
Perhaps a trip to England was best. She would find her way back to Benjamin, she was sure.
Mary was just packing the last of her items with Rebecca’s assistance, when a knock sounded on the door. The two women looked at one another, Rebecca reaching out to squeeze Mary’s hand.
“I can get it, Miss.”
“No.”
Rebecca stared at Mary.
“I’ll answer it.” She gave a brave smile to Rebecca and stepped into the hall. She opened the door, her heart tensing at the sight of Colonel Simcoe.
“Why, Colonel, what a surprise ’tis to see you,” she spoke coyly, giving him a smile.
But his expression was grim, distant. No longer did his gray eyes hold the intensity they once did.
“Miss André, I’m afraid I am not paying a social call…”
Mary tried to take a breath, but her lungs refused to budge.
“I am here to inform you that Major André has been captured behind enemy lines.” Colonel Simcoe lifted his eyes to Mary, a pitying sorrow held inside his gaze.
Shaking, Mary nodded her head. She gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Colonel.” She turned away to hide the tears in her eyes, but her body shuddered and she fell against the side table along the wall.
Rebecca rushed into the hall just as Colonel Simcoe hurried inside, wrapping his arms around Mary to lift her up.
She moaned, her breath shuddering in sobs so fiercely that her vision faded, and she fainted.
Mary came to shortly after, stretched out on the couch in the sitting room. Rebecca held a cool cloth to her forehead as Colonel Simcoe stood solemnly in the corner.
“Mary, the baby…” Rebecca whispered, “…have you felt any pains in your belly?”
Shaking her head, Mary sat up. “No, I have no pains.” She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of it all. It seemed as if she had dreamt that the very horror she feared was coming true. “John…is he…?”
Colonel Simcoe pulled a chair beside her and sat in it. “He is still alive.”
“Thank God,” Rebecca attempted at positivity.
Mary took a drink of water from the glass that Rebecca offered. “How did it all happen?”
“We have not received a full report, yet,” Colonel Simcoe cleared his throat, “but it appears that while he was meeting with…an asset…the ship that carried him to the point of meeting was fired upon and forced to retreat without him. He then moved through enemy territory on horseback but was discovered and detained.”
“There is hope, then?” Mary sat up.
Colonel Simcoe hesitated. “Perhaps.” He gazed at Mary. “Mary, if there is anything I may do for you in this trying time…”
Mary tensed as he clutched her hand. “There is. I wish to meet with General Clinton.”
“But—”
She smiled. “To be able to fight for my brother’s release is my only wish.”
Colonel Simcoe was true to his promise, arranging for Mary to meet with General Clinton just two days later. The trunks still sat in her entryway, the ship to England forgotten and already departed from the harbor of New York.
Mary dressed in one of her best gowns and arrived just on time, ushered into the mansion that served as his home by one of the soldiers guarding the door.
“Ah, Miss André, welcome.” General Clinton said crisply, giving her a brief bow.
She curtsied deeply. “Thank you for meeting with me, General. I—”
“This is General Arnold,” General Clinton continued, gesturing to the tall man that stood at the window. “I believe he mentioned the two of you have met.”
“That is right, sir.” General Arnold left the window, striding over to bow to Mary.
She froze, then belatedly curtsied.
So, it was true, General Arnold had escaped.
The cold sneer of failure burned like frostbite in her heart.
“My wife would have been thrilled to know that I am reunited with you.” General Arnold’s words were friendly, but his expression was flat.
Mary barely managed to force a small smile.
“Now, Miss André, Colonel Simcoe spoke of your request to meet with me…?” General Clinton motioned for them to be seated.
Perching on the edge of her chair, Mary nodded. “I was hoping there was some way we could argue for the release of my brother. Perhaps—”
“My dear woman, we have been negotiating with Washington, but he has already arranged for a trial.” General Clinton reached for a pipe and lit it, tossing the match into the fireplace beside where he sat.
“But—”
General Clinton stood, walking away to receive a package from a messenger. Glancing at Arnold, Mary rose and joined Clinton.
“Please, sir, there must be some price we can pay,” she pressed. “I would even be willing to pay for it myself. I realize I am only John’s sister, but I will fight for him just as our mother would, if she knew of this predicament.”
Sighing, Clinton turned to face her. “I admire your vivacity in pursuing a pardon for your brother, Miss André. But unfortunately, this is out of my hands. The price General Washington asks for is too great.”
Mary stared boldly at him, her feet planted and eyes a harsh amber. “What is the price?”
Clinton frowned, glancing at Arnold sitting quietly in the sitting room. “Washington demands the return of General Arnold,” he finally admitted, quietly. “Only then will he release André. He will accept nothing else.”
“Then give him what he asks.”
This brought a rare smile to Clinton’s face. “I commend your persistence, Miss André. However, I face certain realities of warfare that prevent me from returning General Arnold. Giving up a defector would only discourage others from returning to their rightful loyalty to the crown.”
Mary frowned. “Then you will not save my brother?”
“I’m afraid I am unable to do as we both desire.” Clinton turned back toward Arnold, who rose to join them.
Mary struggled to maintain her composure. “Then I have nothing more to say. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, General.” She curtsied to Clinton before holding Arnold’s eyes in a gaze of pure abhorrence, then exiting the room.
Mary met with Captain Montresor, Lord Rawdon, and as many other generals and officers she could think of, hoping to garner sympathy for her distress. Unfortunately, sympathy was all she gathered—none of the men were willing to act without General Clinton’s orders.
A letter slipped from her hand into Robert’s as they passed one another in the street. Mary said nothing, walking quickly away once her note was delivered. She couldn’t bear to see Robert’s sad, sympathetic gaze.
On the first day of the month of October, Colonel Simcoe was once more on her doorstep. Mary granted him entrance, quietly listening as he relayed the news to her.
“General Clinton conveyed to me,” he said, slowly, “that he received notification from the rebels that Major André has been sentenced to death.”
Mary nodded, emotionless.
“He also received permission for you to pass through enemy lines to bring Major André’s uniform to him—’tis in the current possession of General Arnold.”
Looking up, Mary frowned. “Why does he have my brother’s uniform?”
Colonel Simcoe shrugged. “Apparently your brother had exchanged it for a disguise of civilian clothing, which is why he is to be hanged as a spy.”
“Hanged?” Mary choked on the word.
He leaned closer. “Do not be distressed—think of this news as a blessing, an opportunity to see your brother one last time.”
Dipping her head, she sighed. “You are right. I will leave straightaway—might I acquire my brother’s uniform from…” She could not say his name.
“I believe he is on his way here, even now.” Colonel Simcoe smiled.
Mary’s brows drew together. She gazed blankly into the space of the room, her fingers distractedly rubbing the fabric of the couch she sat on. Her dismal thoughts were interrupted when Simcoe moved to sit close beside her.
“Mary, now that you will be without a protector, a companion, it has occurred to me that perhaps I can offer you one more assistance in this time that, I’ll own, would also bring me great advantage.” He reached out and grasped both her hands.
“Colonel Simcoe—”
He kissed her hand. “Marry me, and you’ll be in no fear of the future. Find your purpose as my wife, and I promise I will bring you every happiness this world has to offer. And you must admit, to marry the friend of your brother is a happy thing indeed.”
Mary bit the tip of her tongue to keep from vomiting. The tang of blood made her mouth bitter. Something told her that it wasn’t due to her condition.
“Say yes.”
She took a deep breath. “I—”
“I have tried to forget you, these years, truly, I have—I even pursued Sally Townsend in hopes of finding love elsewhere. But you have entirely captured my heart,” Colonel Simcoe leaned forward, grabbing her waist and pressing his mouth against hers. “Be my wife.”
Mary tried to writhe backwards to get out of his grip, but his body only followed hers as his mouth pressed harder.
“No!” Mary shoved him off, scrambling away from the couch. She kept her back to him, panting as she rested her hand protectively on her stomach.
A moment of silence sat between them.
Looking over her shoulder, she saw Colonel Simcoe lick his lips.
“Your lips have the taste of blood,” he murmured.
Mary paled.
They both jumped when a knock sounded at the door. Rebecca passed by on her way to answer it, then returned, followed by General Arnold.
“Miss André, Colonel Simcoe.” He bowed.
Mary stared at him.
“I have the uniform for you.” General Arnold held it out, meeting her gaze.
Nodding at Rebecca, Mary brushed past to move above stairs. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rebecca take the uniform into her gentle hands.
“Miss André, I ask that you convey my greetings to my wife.” General Arnold’s words interrupted Mary’s escape. “I believe she is still within the captivity of our enemy. I pray for the health of her and our child, as well as for a speedy reunion for our family.”
Mary slowly rotated to face him from where she stood upon the first few steps of the staircase. “I admire your newfound commitment to the British cause, even to the point of leaving your family behind. And you seem to assume that I would be willing to extend a favor to you, as a fellow citizen of the crown. However, it is my own family, my brother, who sacrifices his life in the brotherhood of arms so that you may stand before me today. I, too, desire a happy reunion with my family. But circumstances would not have it be so and that, I am afraid, places you in an unappeasable debt to me—not the other way around. Good day.”
Rebecca followed Mary as she stomped above stairs to her room.
“Miss, what are you doing?” she asked, as Mary gathered her bag, already packed for England, and her cloak.
“My letter to Benjamin went through—he managed to negotiate a pass for me to bring John his uniform. I am to leave right away.”
Rebecca rushed to assist her. “Well, let me come with you.”
Nodding, Mary took a deep breath. “I’d like that.”
Rebecca gave her a quick embrace. “Save your tears, Miss.” She hurried below stairs to pack her own belongings.
Within a quarter of an hour they sat in the body of a carriage with Colonel Simcoe as their escort, rolling down the street at the quickest pace possible. Silence was their fourth companion, its presence heavy and unsettling as it held everyone under its control the entirety of the more than two hour journey.
By early afternoon, they arrived at the final British checkpoint before enemy territory. The carriage halted, waiting for Mary and Rebecca.
“I’m afraid the two of you must carry on without my escort from here,” Colonel Simcoe said, pushing aside the silence that had occupied the space. “I will ensure the exchange is secure, of course.” He stepped out of the carriage.
Mary froze. “Rebecca—who is outside?”
Leaning toward the window, Rebecca gazed out. “Several British officers, with Colonel Simcoe…a man on a horse wearing loose leather clothes and a large hat, another man on a horse wearing a blue uniform, and three other Continental soldiers—two on horses and one on a wagon.”
Taking a deep breath, Mary nodded, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head, concealing her eyes and shadowing her features. “Let’s be off, then.”
Mary stepped out of the carriage, followed by Rebecca. The two made their way to where Ben and Simcoe stood speaking as one of the British soldiers held Mary and Rebecca’s luggage and a Continental soldier searched them. Once the precautious formality was finished, their bags were placed in the wagon.
“A wagon?” Simcoe scoffed. “The ruggedness of your hospitality does you a disservice.”
“Perhaps. But I do know that it allows the women to be less of a target for marauders.” Ben didn’t even flinch. “You will find such thorough forward thinking will be used in consideration of the entirety of Miss André’s stay with the Continental Army.”
Simcoe sneered as he opened his mouth, but Mary placed her hand on his arm. “Please, Colonel, my heart urges me to not delay.”
Holding Benjamin’s gaze, Colonel Simcoe took Mary’s hand and slowly brought it to his mouth, taking his time in kissing it. Out of the corner of her eye, Mary saw her husband’s jaw clench.
Benjamin offered his arm to Mary. She quietly took it, Rebecca following them as they approached the wagon and were lifted into the bed of the wagon. Cushions were set inside for their comfort, along with warm blankets and a small basket of food.
Mary held on to the side of the wagon as it moved away from the British soldiers watching their departure. She glanced at Caleb, riding alongside the wagon. He winked at her.
Early that evening, they arrived at the town of Tappan. A small crowd was gathered in anticipation of the arrival of a socially elite British lady, sister to the man who had been found guilty for spying in alliance with a traitor. Already the scandal was spreading throughout town, fueling the fires of gossip and intrigue.
