Seaswept Abandon Read online

  Ashley had no cure for Rae's troubled friendships with men, but she had an idea that would ease Rahab's frustration at not being able to help Salem.

  "Rae, I have a favor to ask," she said, hoping Rahab would only hear the earnestness and not the prevarication.

  Startled, Rae spun to face Ashley. She had not known she was not alone. Her brows lifted in question.

  "I just got Courtney to sleep. She was a little cranky. I think she is coming down with a cold. No. Don't say anything. It is hardly your fault. We took shocking advantage last week of the break in the weather and now we're paying the piper. It wouldn't trouble me at all, but I received a missive from Salem earlier today. I have to deliver it this evening and I was wondering... well, would you mind delivering it for me? I hate to leave Courtney when she's not feeling the thing and..."

  Rahab's dark lashes swept over her eyes to conceal the light of relief and happiness that sprang there. Not for anything did she want Ashley to know how sorry she had been feeling for herself. She nodded and mouthed her willingness to pass on her brother's message.

  Ashley expelled a quiet sigh and seated herself on the edge of the divan. She waited for Rae to be seated before she tendered her explanation. "Let me see if I can answer all the questions you cannot voice," she said, a playful smile touching her lips. "The note from Salem arrived before breakfast. He was with Nathanael Greene in Georgia when he wrote it, but he says that by the time I read it he will be on his way home to us. He and the general have quite skunked the British again, picking off the outposts in both the Carolinas."

  Rae smiled at the pride in Ashley's voice, hardly believing there was a time when the McClellans had doubted her loyalty to their cause. There was no doubt now; Ashley had proven herself beyond anything that had been asked of her. "The Lydia?"

  Ashley pursed her lips together in disapproval. "Shh! The Lydia met with no damage. Your brother is of no mind to lose a second ship under his command. It will be none the worse for wear when he brings it back to New York. Certainly it will be fit to join the McClellan fleet when this war is over and trading begins again."

  Ashley knew how important it was to the McClellans that the war end soon. Everything Rae's parents had worked for was in danger of being lost because of the hard times. There was virtually no market for their tobacco crop, and the stud farm had been raided twice by the British, each time taking a terrible toll on the thoroughbred stock. The McClellans were not among those who would profit monetarily from the rebellion. Salem had little interest in privateering, which was where the fortune could be won. When he secretly captained the Lydia it was to bombard the British outposts as he had done in the Carolinas. More often he was simply Washington's spy in New York where a large British force still resided. The pay was no more than a soldier's meager wage, and the few prizes the Lydia took in secret were sold back to the British to support Salem's guise as a merchant tradesman.

  "Salem writes that Lord Cornwallis seems to be weary of our troops chewing at his heels. He is moving his force to Virginia." Seeing Rae's concern, she hastily explained. "Your brother says there is no cause for alarm at this time. The British are only in Portsmouth. Possibly they will go to Yorktown, but Salem does not think they will head up the James toward the landing. Cornwallis would not want to cut himself off from his naval support. That would be the end."

  Rae nodded. She knew the area where Cornwallis's troops were camping very well. The McClellan acres were only slightly farther north along the bank of the James River. The British needed to stay precisely where they were or they could lose the support of General Clinton's forces still in New York, or that of the troops to the south.

  "You understand, of course, if the French would ever arrive with their promise of naval guns this entire war would be ended right and tight."

  Rae smiled at the asperity in Ashley's tone. Ashley still had a good Britisher's wariness of the French.

  "No doubt it does not suit them at this time. Oh, well... Washington will manage the thing well enough without their help. And this is what Salem writes about in the first place. His dispatch to the general must be taken to Wolfe's Tavern near Bowling Green. I alone can translate the code of his message, and since I've already done so it is vital that it not fall into enemy hands. Can you do this thing?"

  Rae's slim shoulders straightened. She nodded firmly.

  "Good. And your cold? You do not think it is too much?"

  "I don't need a voice to be a courier," Rae croaked.

  "How fortunate for us there is no catch phrase needed to assure your identity. You are hardly capable of giving one over." She patted Rae's forearm in a gesture that made light of her concern. "Poor Rahab. So much to say, and no way to get it all out."

  Rae's bright smile said she was not offended by Ashley's teasing, but the glint in her eyes clearly warned of retribution.

  Ashley released Rae's arm and began clicking off her fingers as she covered the major points of the assignment to Rae. "First, you will go to Wolfe's this evening around eight o'clock. The tavern is patroned by a number of British regulars, Tory sympathizers, and women of a certain repute." She cleared her throat and caught Rae's eye to make certain she understood. "These women are not obvious in their profession, but they are indiscriminate in that they offer themselves to the redcoats. There will be no need to paint yourself scarlet to fit among them, but you will have to spurn any number of advances." Rae's expression was skeptical. "Don't look at me so, Rahab. Those freckles you despise are nothing more than a tease for that streak of fire in your hair. They will make you a target for every skirt pincher lifting an ale. Oh. Mayhap this is not a good idea. I should go myself. The patrons at Wolfe's know better than to bother with me."

  Rae shook her head violently. "Please. I want to do this," she said with effort.

  Ashley squashed her last doubts, taken with the animation on Rae's face. Rahab had no idea of how lovely she looked at that moment, how completely happy. "Very well. Second, you will look for Paul Kroger. He is a portly man, slightly balding, of Germanic descent, and usually can be found eating sauerbrauten at the corner table near the bar. He comes to the tavern three days each week without fail, always at the same time, to wait for a courier in the event there is a dispatch. He will wait until nine. If you are late, he will be gone. He will not be expecting you, but if you wear my plaid shawl he will know you have come on my errand. Paul is a gentleman of the first water, so do not be afraid when he invites you to take a room abovestairs. Once in the room, hand over Salem's letter, which I will baste into the hem of your skirt, and you can leave by the window. Don't worry. It leads to the sloping roof of the back porch, and from there it is the smallest of drops to the ground."

  Rae's eyes widened. It was difficult to imagine her brother permitting Ashley to engage in such intrigue. Salem was nothing if not protective of his wife.

  "Salem had a great deal to say about it all in the beginning," Ashley said frankly. "But there was a need for a courier, and I convinced him the danger was minimal. Which it is. And, of course, Salem trusts Herr Kroger. Such a genial man. He's actually quite embarrassed at having to invite me to his room. His shiny pate turns bright red.

  "The entire exchange won't take more than a few minutes. Herr Kroger will wait in his room until a suitable period of time has passed; then he will be on his way to Washington's camp. The affair is neatly executed under the nose of Clinton's men, and no one is the wiser. Couriers have been using Wolfe's for the passing of dispatches for nearly three years and there has never been even a suspicion of trouble."

  It sounded to Rae as if the plan was almost without risk. She quelled a niggling feeling of disappointment. She had hoped for a riskier assignment, a method of proving herself for the cause. It seemed that unless she wrenched her ankle dropping from the upper story there was no way for her to fail.

  "You'll do this for me, then?" Ashley asked, giving Rae a final opportunity to back out, though she would have been shocked if Rahab had ta
ken it.

  Rae nodded happily, and unable to keep her good spirits silent, she rushed on before Ashley could stop her. "You know I will. I cannot think of anything I would rather do for you. Please, let me sew Salem's note in my skirt. I want to do this from the beginning."

  Ashley's finely drawn brows raised, assessing Rae critically. Here indeed was the proof that Rahab wanted to help. Rae hated any sort of stitchery and completed her embroidery pieces only because it was expected of her. She had always been a dutiful daughter, fulfilling expectations of those things a proper young lady should list as her accomplishments. However, it was no secret among the McClellans that she would rather spend her time hunting or riding. Even the rigors of the classroom came before plying her needle.

  "Of course, you may hide the note. But there is a condition. And that is that I don't hear another word from you this evening. I think you should treat your voice with more care. You never know when you will have need of it."

  "I'll do anything," Rae's eyes seemed to say, pleasing Ashley greatly.

  "Good. Now let us see about your manner of dress for this evening."

  It was out of the question that any of Ashley's wardrobe would fit Rae. Her long and tapered limbs were not suited to the curved lushness of Ashley's figure. She loved Ashley all the better for not even suggesting rummaging through her closets. Nothing could have been more calculated to make Rahab feel ungainly and out of step with the current mode.

  After much discussion and several false starts, Rae and Ashley settled on a simple shag skirt of the deepest indigo blue and a white saque that served as an overblouse. Combined with the dark watch plaid of Ashley's shawl, the outfit set off the streak of fiery copper in Rae's hair. Rae pirouetted in front of the cheval glass in her room, glancing over her shoulder as she spun, greatly pleased with the image she presented.

  Ashley chuckled softly. "Do not play the harlot too well, dear sister. I would not want to explain any untoward behavior to Salem."

  Rae stopped spinning, blushing at Ashley's words. In truth she did feel different, if only because of the knowledge of the kind of woman she was to portray. When her eyes returned to the glass, studying her reflection, she realized there was nothing untoward about her appearance. She looked much as she always looked. Oh, her eyes were brighter than was perhaps seemly for a young woman about to embark on something of such questionable taste. Perhaps her hair appeared a shade redder, but surely that was the influence of the clothes. And if her complexion glowed with an exceptional rosiness, it could no doubt be attributed to the latent effects of the sun. She admitted to herself that she looked nothing at all like a fallen woman, and her smile faded.

  She turned on Ashley and made some quick motions about her face with her hands. Ashley had no difficulty determining what it was that Rae wanted.

  "Certainly not," she said briskly. "You shan't paint your face. That is taking things a bit too far. It would not be safe for you to leave the house if you departed in such a guise. You would be accosted long before you reached the tavern. Once you are at Wolfe's you will see that I am right. All the patrons know the women for what they are. There is no need for paint or posturing attitudes. I have no doubt you will find the affair as sad as I do." Ashley sighed, shaking her head. "But there is no reason for me to refine on it so. I did not know I could be such a scold. I'll get Salem's correspondence for you to sew into the skirt."

  When Ashley returned Rae was seated cross-legged on the middle of her large bed, clad only in her drawers and a thin chemise. Her bright head was bent over the skirt on her lap, and there was a slight frown of concentration on her brow as her fingers struggled with threads of the hem. Rae's sewing basket rested at her side, much of the contents strewn about the brightly patterned quilt that covered the four poster. Ashley could only admire the way Rae approached every task in her life with such single-minded determination. Once she was set upon a course of action, there was little that could be done to dissuade her from it. Ashley knew a sense of pleasure that she had been able to provide Rahab with some purpose for the time being.

  Without a word, she left Salem's letter on the edge of the bed and slipped out of the room. Rae would find it when she had need of it.

  Rae was just repacking her sewing basket, feeling quite proud that she had managed to secure her brother's missive without Ashley's assistance, when she heard a mewling cry from the direction of the nursery. Knowing Ashley was probably taking a much needed rest, Rae shrugged into a thin robe and went to the children.

  She was astonished by the sight that greeted her. Courtney was hugging Trenton to her tiny bare chest, encouraging the babe to take her flat pink nipple in his puckered mouth. Trenton was making a vigorous protest. Without thinking of the consequences, Rae used her voice sharply. "Courtney Ann Rochelle! What in heaven's name are you doing?"

  Startled by the breaking tones of her aunt's speech, Courtney nearly dropped the precarious hold she had on her young brother. Her struggling burden was almost too much for her dimpled arms. She knew she was doing something wrong because it was rare that anyone used all three of her names. "Oh, Auntie Rae," she said in a rush. "Mama's sleeping and Trenton is so hungry. You will feed him, won't you? I don't think I have any milk."

  Rahab could only smile at Courtney's wide-eyed solemness. She took Trenton from his sister's arms and checked his padded bottom. He was wet as well as hungry. "I don't have any milk either, minx," she rasped as she began to change her nephew.

  Courtney examined the small curves of Rae's breasts with curious eyes. "Have you tea, then?"

  Rae's laughter showered the room with husky sound. Trenton gurgled, delighted with the noise. "No, impudent miss, I do not have tea. Or coffee, if that is the bent of your next question. Only mamas of young babes have milk for their little ones. Does that satisfy you?"

  Courtney supposed that it did. She struggled with her nightdress until Rahab helped her pull the material over her shoulders, then over her head.

  "Go on. Get dressed. I shall help you with the—" She had fully intended to say buttons, but the word was merely a thread of sound. She tried again with no success. Her lips shaped the word, but no voice attended the action.

  "Can you not speak now?" Courtney asked, distressed.

  Rae shook her head and was nearly knocked to the floor as Courtney hugged her knees. "I'm so sorry. Auntie Rae."

  "What are you sorry for?" Ashley asked from the doorway. She bit down a smile at the sight of her daughter, buck naked, hugging Rahab, who was only clad in a sheer robe and her underwear, while Trenton tried to scoot his powdered behind across the changing table.

  "Mama!" Courtney cried, running to her mother's side and pulling Ashley into the room. Released, Rae lunged for Trenton to keep him from meeting the floor with his head. "Auntie Rae cannot speak, and it is your fault because you were sleeping."

  Ashley blinked in surprise and bent to meet her daughter's flushed face. "How quickly you changed your tune. When I came in I thought it was your apology I heard."

  Courtney's bright eyes shifted. "Auntie Rae cannot speak because she scolded me."

  Ashley's eyes lifted over Courtney's head to where Rae was shaking her head and making dismissing motions with her hand. "Why did Rahab scold you?"

  Courtney explained her dilemma the best way she could. Ashley had a hard time keeping an expressionless mien while Rae's silent laughter shook her slender body. When Courtney's story drew to a breathless halt, Ashley could do naught but hug her. Courtney had tried nothing that she had not seen her mother do hundreds of times.

  "Go. Do as your auntie says and get dressed." Ashley raised her laughing eyes to Rae. "I don't know what I should do without you, Rae. I never intended when I invited you here for you to help with Courtney, and now Trenton, but I cannot imagine how I would manage without you. They are a handful."

  Rae's smile said she enjoyed her place in the children's life. Fondly she handed Trenton into his mother's waiting arms and Ashley settled into the
cherrywood rocker. In a few moments he was sucking greedily at his mother's breast. Rae's heart lurched at the sight, the Madonna-like contentment on Ashley's face. Ashley glanced at Rae and caught the unmistakable yearning there. Slightly embarrassed to have seen something of Rahab's deepest secrets in her dark eyes, Ashley quickly turned her attention back to her noisy son.

  "My children are such piglets," she said. "I can't think where they learned their manners."

  Rae merely smiled, securing the sash of her robe.

  "You really can't speak at all, can you?"

  Rae shook her head regretfully.

  "Oh, Rae. I can't let you go tonight. How will you manage?"

  Rae's face fell, her cheeks ashen. Her eyes pleaded eloquently with Ashley.

  "What am I to do with you? You beg your case as soulfully as Courtney, and everyone knows I am hardly proof against her wishes." Ashley sighed. "Very well, you may go to Wolfe's, and I pray neither of us shall regret this. But you must promise that you will drink your fill of honeyed tea between now and then. And I can't help but think a touch of spirits would soothe your throat."

  Rahab agreed eagerly. She would have submitted to a mustard pack and drinking straight shots of corn liquor if it meant she could go to the tavern this evening. She did not wait for Ashley to think better of her decision, but left the nursery quickly.

  She dressed in the skirt and saque, let her hair fall loosely about her shoulders, and found a pair of dark stockings and practical shoes. Carrying the shawl on one arm, she took the back stairs to the kitchen and stepped lightly around the cook and helpers, preparing her hot tea and honey.

  "You gonna put a little somethin' in that tea, ain't you?" Esther wanted to know. The cook's capable hands rested militantly on her ample hips. Smudges of flour contrasted sharply against her coffee-colored skin.