A Spy, page 24
“He’s so tiny,” she breathed, leaning down to kiss her baby’s button nose.
“And healthy.” Mrs. Townsend smiled at her.
Mary looked up at her in concern. “Even though he was early?”
She nodded. “Little one came when he was ready. I’m sure he knew now was the right time, with his mama and papa together.”
She left the room with the bowls of water and dirty towels. Sally followed her, closing the door quietly.
“Look at him…” Benjamin breathed, his arm wrapped around Mary. “I can hardly believe it.”
Mary gazed at him as he smiled at his son, his finger tracing the tiny fingers of the now sleeping baby. “’Tis just as I dreamed,” she murmured. Her breath felt shallow and rattled in her aching lungs.
Benjamin drew his blue eyes to meet hers. “What is?”
“This moment.” She leaned over to kiss him.
They lay together for a while, dozing blissfully as Mary held their child and Benjamin held Mary. The joy and peace of heaven hovered around them as they slumbered.
Sometime in the night the baby cried, but Mary heard it as if far away. Mrs. Townsend spoke to her, but she couldn’t discern what the woman was saying. They helped her hold her son to her chest and after several attempts he latched, but he soon pulled away, crying.
“What’s wrong?” Benjamin asked.
Mrs. Townsend frowned. “’Twill take a few days for her milk to fully flow, but the babe must keep suckling.”
Mary collapsed back against the pillows. Her arms seemed as weights, making it difficult to embrace her child. The pain in her lower belly that had come and gone while nursing surged once more, causing her stomach to turn violently.
A few hours passed in which Mary attempted to sleep and failed sorely. Her skin felt cold, yet she couldn’t stop sweating. They tried nursing again, but once more she failed to satisfy her child.
In the darkest hour of the morning, Mary felt Benjamin stir abruptly beside her. His hands patted the bedding around her. The warmth of his form beside her disappeared as he bolted from the bed.
“I tell you, this is no natural quantity of blood!” Benjamin’s footsteps thundered into the room even as Mrs. Townsend feet padded after him.
The bedcover was thrown back and Mrs. Townsend gasped, “God have mercy. Quick, massage here, in her low belly, to slow the bleeding. I’ll fetch our physician.”
Mary had felt the red liquid of life leaving her body but couldn’t say anything about it. It took all her strength just to focus on her short breaths jumping in and out of her lungs, even with the agony of Mrs. Townsend demonstrating the task to Benjamin and his strong, warm hands taking over. Neither could she respond as he sobbed in desperation to their Father in Heaven, his normally strong timbre cracking with fear. Her heart wrenched within her chest and she longed to clasp his hand, to speak reassurances to him.
But all she could do was lie in surrender as the bedcovers further soaked through.
Her skin was hot.
But no, she was shivering. Shaking.
Her hands and feet were cold and her head throbbed like icicles had sliced their way through her brain.
A doctor arrived, or perhaps Mary dreamed it. She was dizzy, her vision blurred. The physician took notes on her condition, then spoke grimly with Benjamin and the Townsends.
“Malnourished…too weak, even before the birth…not long for this world…”
Mary’s confusion cleared, chased away by her rapid heartbeat.
She knew it even before the doctor said the words.
She knew as soon as her labor had started.
So, she fought. Not against death, for that was fruitless. Instead, she fought for life. The life of her child. Every breath of hers became a prayer advocating for his life, as if she breathed what was left of her own life into his little body.
She heard him cry. “My baby,” she asked, forcing her eyes open and holding her arms out. It felt as if it took all her willpower just to lift her shaking arms.
Benjamin surrendered the whimpering child to her arms, his eyes avoiding her gaze.
As Mary felt the weight of her child in her arms, the warmth of his soft little body against her chest, she encountered a sudden jolt of fear. Her eyes fluttered shut as she clung to the experience of embracing her baby, so close and so alive as he wiggled and squeaked.
“I’m not ready to go,” Mary whispered, tears squeezing through her eyelids. “I still want to live…”
Someone cleared their throat, and Mary opened her eyes to see Benjamin struggling to compose himself. Taking a deep breath, she smiled. “Where is Caleb?”
“Here, Little Mary.” He sniffed, giving her a big grin as he pulled up a chair beside the bed.
Benjamin settled on the bed beside her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her head. The Townsends and the doctor left the room, but Robert lingered, hanging in the doorway like a sorrowful shadow.
Mary nodded to him, beckoning him closer.
“Meet Robert Benjamin Tallmadge,” she said, smiling through her tears as she showed him her child. “Named after his father…and after the one who not only bought his life and freedom, but that of his mother as well.”
Robert reached out to touch her son, his hand drifting to squeeze her arm. He looked away, shaking his head. “You honor me. I cannot—”
His voice broke as Caleb cleared his throat. “Eh, now, what about Uncle Caleb, here?”
Mary gave a weak laugh. “You need to find yourself a proper wife when the war is done. Someone who can be just as good an aunt to my child as you will be an uncle.”
She broke into a fit of coughing and wheezing, accompanied by a feverish sweat. Her consciousness faded, but she could feel them around her. Caleb. Robert. Her son. Her Benjamin.
Mary felt her baby squirm, waking her from slumber. Benjamin gently took him from her, rocking the babe tenderly in his arm.
She sighed, peacefully.
“Mary,” Benjamin groaned. His blue eyes darkened as he struggled against the fearful grief awaiting him.
“I’m here,” she whispered in loving comfort, settled in the warmth of his embrace.
“Don’t leave me,” he begged. He kissed her hair, then leaned over to kiss her cheeks, and her mouth.
She savored his taste upon her mouth but found she didn’t have the strength to kiss him back. “I love you, Benjamin.” His name came out in a gasp.
“I love you, too.”
He kissed her cheek, reaching to place her hand on her son as tears streamed down his face. Her pain faded, leaving her body feeling light and soft.
The clock struck one o’clock in the morning, the sound echoing far away compared to the nearness of her child’s little huffs and squeaks and the warm caress of her husband’s hand upon her brow and temple.
Mary smiled at the warm glow filling the room and pushing back the night. She breathed out her joy, “The sun is rising…”
“New York.” Benjamin shook his head in disbelief and admiration as he walked through the bustling streets of the city that now had its long-awaited return into the arms of the Americans. As his boots clomped on snow-dusted cobblestones of the crowded streets, his eyes lifted to view the same buildings that had once watched her pass by…as he now did. He pulled his cloak tighter against the cold December wind even as fading memories blew past him.
Hurrying on, he arrived at the Underhill’s boarding house, opening the door to find his friends waiting within.
Caleb Brewster gave him a hearty embrace before pulling back to allow Abraham Woodhull to greet him. Benjamin kissed Mrs. Anna Strong on the cheek and shook her husband’s hand. A long look was shared between Benjamin and Robert Townsend as they shook hands, then were interrupted by the laughs of Mrs. Anne Brewster and Mrs. Mary Woodhull as little Robert burst between their skirts and ran up to him.
Grinning, Benjamin crouched and scooped up his nearly two-year-old son, enthusiastically kissing the child’s cheek.
“Ah, little tyke, I missed you.”
Little Robert gave him a wide smile, his warm brown eyes striking against golden silk hair. “Unca’ Ben, what you hide?” He tilted his head, trying to see over Benjamin’s shoulder to the hand held behind his back.
“He is in good care, with my brother and sister-in-law,” Robert said. “And though he carries the name of Townsend now, he will always be a Tallmadge.”
Benjamin nodded, finding it a challenge to speak past the lump in his throat. “I am sure you’re right.” He drew a toy horse from behind his back, the carefully carved wood painted a dappled grey. Straddling the horse was a blue-coated dragoon, his sword raised gallantly. Real horsehair adorned the horse’s mane and tail and the dragoon’s helmet.
Young Robert’s eyes widened and he squealed, clutching the horse and rider in his small chubby hands, delight rendering him speechless.
“You know, I had a dappled horse once.” Benjamin grinned as Robert’s eyes lit up even more than he imagined possible.
“It’s you!” Robert threw his arms around Benjamin’s neck before squirming to be let down.
Putting his son down, Benjamin watched fondly as Robert toddled off to play with his new toy on the lap of his Uncle Caleb, tugging on his beard for attention.
“How are you doing? It’s been nearly two years,” Abraham asked as he leaned against the wall next to Benjamin.
Benjamin drew in a slow breath. “I will never stop missing her. It’s impossible to forget such love…but the Lord heals.”
Abraham gave Benjamin’s shoulder a squeeze.
“And I’ve heard from her family. Her sister Louisa is the only one who corresponds with me. Their family removed from society shortly after John’s death and live quietly in Bath, in Somerset.”
“How did they take the news of Mary? Did they ask for Robert?”
Benjamin snorted. “No, they refused to acknowledge he was her child. Louisa told me that her mother fears being swindled by someone pretending to be a relation and asking for monetary support. They had a hard enough time accepting that Mary was…had passed. Louisa speaks of some sort of arrangement to ensure the upholding of their reputation as a respectable English family, which started with the destruction of all her letters. She bitterly commented that they were filled with lies, which I imagine they were, regretfully.”
Abraham raised his eyebrows. “Sounds like a complicated family. Still, God knows all. We are your true family, and that is what matters. Will you visit her grave soon?”
“Tomorrow. I will be joining Robert on his return to his family home in Oyster Bay.”
Caleb extricated himself from little Robert and joined Benjamin and Abraham, grinning. “Tell me, Bennie, when are you going to tell little Robert?”
“Tell him what, exactly?”
Abraham cleared his throat uncomfortably and stared at Benjamin.
“Well, who his true parents are.”
Benjamin met the two gazes that looked expectantly and apprehensively upon him. “I cannot. I swore to protect our secrets, all of them. And I will take those secrets to the grave with me, as will we all. If I told Robert I was his father…then I’d have to burden him with all the rest. I cannot do that.”
Abraham nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.
But Caleb frowned. “Very well. I trust you, Tallmadge. But, well…” he grunted and left their side to return to his wife.
Benjamin sighed.
“It gets better, Benjamin,” Abraham said, “with time and an awareness of God’s new mercies and promises. We’ve all lost many of our loved ones, but they sacrificed so as to build this new country for people like little Robert. We cannot allow regret to tie us to the past. It’ll get better, Benjamin, but you must allow it to.”
Benjamin stared long into his old friend’s eyes, then clapped him on the shoulder. The bustle in the room increased as the Underhills came in, setting warm food on the table. Everyone moved to find their seat at the steaming spread of meat puddings, raisin nut bread, turnips with onions, and cranberry pudding.
“Will you not join us, Colonel Tallmadge?” Mrs. Underhill asked.
He looked to where Mary Woodhull snuggled his son on her lap, as Anne Brewster tickled giggles out of him.
Smiling, Benjamin shook his head. “I’m afraid I have a previous commitment to General Washington.”
“Still following orders, eh?” Caleb winked at Abraham, who laughed. “Come on, Bennie Boy, the war’s over, have a little celebration with us!”
“I’m afraid that is precisely what I am called to—a celebration this evening hosted by Philip Schulyer.” Benjamin kissed his son’s cheek, savoring the soft scent of his golden hair. As the silken locks stirred bittersweet memories within him, he found himself on the verge of telling his son all about the bravery of his mother, evident in her sacrifices that not only saved the lives of many but also of her own son.
He wished he could be honest with his son. Benjamin sighed, then bowed to the company of his friends.
Their fond goodbyes still echoing in his ears, he took a hired coach to the Schuyler mansion alongside the Hudson River, entering among the throngs of other guests.
Handing his cloak to one of the servants, he straightened his blue uniform jacket—not yet prepared to part with it and take up civilian clothing—and spoke briefly to his host and hostess.
“Benjamin.” General Washington approached, reaching out to shake his hand, looking worn by the seven years of war, yet relieved to see its end draw near.
“Your Excellency.” Benjamin dipped his head in respect as their hands clasped warmly.
“I have someone you should meet. She volunteered at Valley Forge for some time, my wife reminds me. I was astonished to not recognize her. But I believe you may be familiar with her, as I recall you dancing with her at a ball we attended in Philadelphia, though she seems much changed in those five years. And yet she swears she does not know you.” General Washington chuckled as he walked into the ballroom, Benjamin following dutifully.
A beautiful young woman with light brown hair adorned with roses and feathers smiled, the fabric of her blue gown swishing as she turned to greet Benjamin with rich brown eyes. Benjamin’s breath left him for a moment, for this woman—though a stranger—appeared to him an almost perfect likeness of the one he once loved....as if a master painting had been copied by a student, carrying the same image with unique touches of personal style.
General Washington left to dance with an admiring guest, leaving Benjamin alone with the young woman.
“Colonel Tallmadge.” She curtsied gracefully.
He gave a curious hum. “You have me at a disadvantage, Miss. You know my name, yet I do not know yours.”
“I am disappointed, Colonel, I thought you were the Head of Intelligence.” She gave a gentle laugh, eyes sparkling with a teasing light.
He shook his head. “I am afraid it was my duty to handle the spies, rather than act as one.”
“I shall give you a hint, then.” She took a step closer and whispered in his ear, “My father signed the Declaration of Independence.”
Benjamin laughed. “You would make me go through the whole list of fifty-six names?”
She echoed his laugh. “You make a fair argument. How about this—you will ask me to dance, and then I will tell you my name.”
“Agreed.” Benjamin took her hand and led her to the dance floor. They followed through a few movements, her smile encouraging his, his eyes locked on hers. Rich brown eyes, with bits of amber flecked throughout. Just like…
“Well, we are dancing,” Benjamin leaned close to murmur to the young woman.
She dipped her head. “Very well. Since you held up your part of the deal, I will hold up mine.”
They finished the dance, bowing and curtsying to one another. As they joined hands again and Benjamin led her to a private alcove of the room, she ended his suspense.
“My father is William Floyd, and my name is Mary. His Excellency mentioned that you were familiar with my name,” her eyes sparkled up at him with charming fascination.
Benjamin’s heart stopped. He took a breath as he squeezed her hand that was still placed in his. “Indeed. ’Tis a name I have never forgotten, and never will forget.” He lifted her hand and kissed it. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Mary Floyd.”
She smiled.
Benjamin reflected that the second most significant moment of Mary Hannah André’s life was when she made the seemingly inconsequential choice to claim the alias of Mary Floyd, fating him to find his second wife who coincidentally had the same name. Yet it was that first thoughtless choice of hers that had truly changed his life and the lives of many others—the choice to spy.
Abatis—an obstacle formed out of trees and branches laid out in a row with the sharpened branches facing toward the enemy. Acts as a barrier on the battlefield or as a road block.
Banns—a notice read out loud in a parish church three Sundays in a row to announce a couple’s intent to marry and allow the opportunity for objection.
Banyan Robe—a men’s or women’s robe, usually of embroidered cloth, worn over a shift or shirt before and after sleeping.
Betimes—early.
Bowels—belly, insides.
Chirping-merry—Colonial era slang meaning to be in a good mood from alcohol.
Continental Army—the official army of the patriot cause, endorsed by Congress.
Cowboys—highwaymen who often stole cattle and committed other such crimes of robbery. They were neutral members of the war, a chaotic evil.
Créme de la créme—a French phrase translated to “cream of the cream,” meaning that someone or something is the best of the best.
Dead Drops—a neutral location where secret information can be delivered and picked up without putting persons at risk by having them meet face to face.
Dinner—the midday meal, or “lunch.” Often the biggest meal of the day, and sometimes taken at 3pm.
