Free The Rebel's Return by Susan Foy Page A

so much time. I do hope this letter finds you and your family in good health. I happened to meet your brother Nicholas here in town one day, and he told me he had left you all well. It was good to hear of you again after so long.
    My brother George is serving with Washington’s army, and we are all greatly concerned by the news of the most recent battles. We received a letter from him after Brooklyn Heights, but nothing in nearly a month, and my mother in particular is quite anxious. I am certain your family must feel the same anxiety and I hope your brother has come through the fighting safely.
    There! she thought, rereading the two paragraphs. That strikes the right note, just politely concerned.  The worst that could happen is Lavinia could mention the letter to Nicholas, and that might give him mischievous thoughts . For a second she almost crumpled the note until she realized that Lavinia might not see her brother for months. With a war going on, they would surely have more important matters to discuss.
    Am I doing a foolish thing, Lord? she prayed silently. I was foolish before, and I don’t want to be so again. Perhaps I should mention the letter to my mother, and if she approves, I will send it.
    She finished the letter with trivial news. She folded it and carried it into the kitchen, where her mother was churning butter and Alice was mixing ingredients for baking bread.
    “I’ve just written to Lavinia Teasdale,” she mentioned casually, fetching a cloth to wipe the table where Alice was working. “Do you have any letters to mail?”
    “How lovely!” her mother exclaimed. “You two used to be such friends. Be sure to send my greetings to her mother.”
    Phoebe obediently opened the paper to add a postscript, rereading the first two paragraphs again.
    “They are so rich now, they probably have more important friends,” Alice remarked. “They might not care to hear from us.”
    “Nonsense, Alice, Nicholas wasn’t so proud when he visited last summer. He was very friendly and obliging.”
    Aye , Phoebe thought. Friendly and obliging indeed.
    “True.” Alice carefully measured the milk into her bowl. “But for marriage, they would certainly look higher than us.”
    “Perhaps so.” Her mother lifted the bread dough from the bowl and began to knead it. “But no one is thinking of marriage here. Phoebe is Lavinia’s old friend, and I think it is very fine that she has written to her.”
    Alice raised her eyebrows, glancing at her sister, and Phoebe felt the color rise in her cheeks. For a moment she nearly tossed the letter into the fire. But it was already written and her mother approved, so she would send it and then try to put it out of her mind.
     
    *     *     *
     
    Nicholas cantered up to the house where George Washington was lodged and swung down from his mare, Syllabub. At the door he was met by the general’s aide and handed him the letter.
    “Message from Lord Stirling for General Washington,” Nicholas told him. “I was told to wait for a response.”
    The aide vanished within and Nicholas turned to stroll through the front garden. Heavy clouds were rolling across the sky as a damp wind picked up strength. The hills surrounding White Plains displayed their autumn splendor, crimson and gold and burnt orange, but he knew that soon the colors would fade to brown and vanish in the driving wind. And what would come of the army then? Only October, and already the enlisted men were half-starved and poorly clad and sleeping on the cold damp ground at night. Winter would only intensify their miseries—if, indeed, the army had not disintegrated by winter time.
    A fresh-faced, rosy young private who worked in the stables came forward from around the house to see who was calling on the general. Walton was twenty-one and looked younger, barely old enough to shave, Nicholas reflected with amusement, but just two months ago he had obtained leave and married his sixteen-year-old sweetheart.