Chapter 19
nineteen
A chaplain on discipline in the Continental Army
Coralie, from all appearances, had completely forgotten her British lieutenant.
Nor did she seem to notice Mae’s absence amid so many attentive rebel officers.
The rest of the evening flew past, and then James escorted a yawning Coralie and Mae across the street to Aunt Verity’s well after midnight.
Once he’d left them at the door, Coralie wasted no words as they entered the house.
“I spied you dancing with the general more than once. What does that signify, I wonder?”
“Mind your own business.” Mae was half tempted to remain in Morristown since Coralie so vexed her. “You best hurry upstairs.”
“I’m quite worn out, but from the look of Auntie, we shan’t go straight to bed,” Coralie said with a hysterical little laugh. Clearly she’d drunk too much punch. “She’s been at watch by the parlor window since we left, I’m willing to wager.”
Their aunt called to them as soon as the front door closed. “I’m still quite put out that Coralie defied my order to stay home,” she said. “Who is this general mentioned?”
“Mae’s beau, General Harlow,” Coralie answered, already at the bottom step.
Stifling a yawn and her dismay, Mae dutifully entered the parlor as her sister snuck upstairs, knowing she’d get no sleep without elaborating.
“Is this true, my dear?”
Mae began removing her white kid gloves. “General Harlow is the finest man I’ve ever met. A rifleman from Virginia.”
“Is there an understanding between you?”
“If you mean, do we hope to wed once the war is won, yes,” Mae told her with far more joy than certainty.
“I only wish your dear parents were here to witness it, God rest them. Your general must be rather extraordinary to have captured your attention.”
Mae kissed her parchment-paper cheek. “I shall tell you more in the morning.”
The next morning, General Washington showed no sign of having danced half the night.
Rhys resisted a yawn as he stood in the commander’s office awaiting orders.
A number of other bloodshot-eyed officers filled the chamber, where maps covered tables along with troop rosters, military correspondence, and an abundance of paper, quill pens, and inkwells.
A cheerful fire burned in the hearth, occasionally sending a puff of smoke into the room when the spring wind gusted.
Rhys had spent what little remained of the night after the ball reliving the linen closet. What had been said. Proposed. Weighing the past with the present. Did Bronwyn regret her and Micah’s decision to postpone their wedding? He recalled they’d considered marrying before Micah enlisted.
What had Mae said? “Why not make the most of the hour given us?”
“. . . If any man in action shall presume to skulk, hide himself, or retreat from the enemy, without the orders of his commanding officer, he will be instantly shot down as an example of cowardice.”
Rhys yanked his thoughts back from Mae to the present. Washington was looking straight at him, his gaze ironclad, his legendary temper taut. Fortunately, his riflemen were not among the cowards Washington railed against.
“Harlow, if we hear of the enemy’s advance, you and your men will go out and continue scouting, flanking, and harassing their rear guards.”
Rhys nodded, knowing they must be able to march at a moment’s notice. Everything depended on the enemy’s movements and the intelligence arriving more than hourly of late. Spies were thick as gnats, and Washington placed great stock in intelligence. His own spy web was sticky and extensive.
Washington continued, “Keep the enemy’s fear of you alive even as you and your men continue to be fearless.
British officers taking ship for America are being warned to put their affairs in order lest they encounter American riflemen.
Your unerring ability to hit an object incites terror among the Hessians especially. ”
Yet many British called their methods dishonorable—this skirmishing with and targeting British officers and their Indian guides. Though the enemy had their own rifle corps, they lacked the rebel’s deadly accurate long rifles.
“I’m awaiting word of troop movements in Jersey as well as enemy activity in New York,” Washington said. “The latest dispatches will determine our next campaign.”
“I would propose, sir,” Colonel Finley said, “that if we’re to go north, the Rifle Corps would best serve by leading the advance.”
Washington looked about the room. “What say the rest of you?”
Rhys had grown used to Washington’s tactics during councils of war.
He was adept at presenting ideas and inviting argument and opinion among his foremost officers, thereby arriving on the best course of action.
He was decisive yet willing to consider all viewpoints till he issued an order.
He lived by the Scripture “Where no counsel is, the people fall: but in the multitude of counsellors there is safety.”
Rhys gave his own opinion about the matter as the clock ticked toward noon. At last the meeting ended with the arrival of the Frenchman de Rayneval. Leaving Arnold Tavern, Rhys set his sights on the silversmith down the street.
The sign of the crown and three pearls on Market Street was easily seen.
Once Rhys was inside, the jeweler’s shop made a muddle of a determined man.
Medals, buckles, buttons, thimbles, broaches, and chains shone about the shadowed interior.
Plenty of pinchbeck—faux jewelry—abounded but failed to impress.
Mourning rings beckoned, adding a melancholy note to an otherwise joyously decisive moment.
“What do you buy, sir?” the jeweler asked, spectacles perched on the end of his thin nose.
Rhys continued to peruse all the wares inside a glass case. “A wedding ring.”
“Ah. Over here by the watches.”
Along a far wall was an astonishing selection for so small a village. Smuggled goods? Rhys’s attention caught on a plain gold band with a small but glittering rose-cut diamond.
“You have a discerning eye, sir. This piece makes paupers of the rest.” The jeweler reached into the case and took out the ring.
“Imported in the last vessel from London before ports closed.” As Rhys examined it, he added, “I’m also taking bespoke orders if nothing in stock suits, but ’twill likely be contraband, understand. ”
“The rose-cut band will do.” Rhys didn’t flinch at the price. He could afford it but didn’t dare lose such a treasure.
Now, would Mae like it?
A warm April wind blew through Lowantica Valley’s woods. Rhys sat in a pool of sunlight, cleaning his rifle outside his cabin, the ring in his pocket.
Opposite him sat Sperry whittling a pipe, wood shavings at his feet. “Seems like we’ve been shut up here four score and ten years. I’m more than ready to march even if it means battle.”
“May, to my reckoning,” Rhys replied.
“A month from now?” Sperry held the knife aloft. “For certain?”
“A bold guess.”
“May means we’re nearly done with spring and the damp. I imagine the enemy is as ready as we are.”
“We’re awaiting word on Howe’s and Gates’s positions, the strength of their numbers, and the like. Then General Washington will have us decamp.”
“Speaking of the general . . .” Sperry left off, his gaze fixed on the valley floor below. “I’d know that fine mount anywhere.”
“Blueskin or Nelson?” Rhys said without looking up. The chestnut gelding and white half-Arabian were known by many, friend or foe.
“Nelson.”
They both stood, abandoning their tasks. Though it wasn’t uncommon for Washington to leave Morristown and ride to the valley, Rhys sensed this visit had significance. He started down the hill, Sperry on his heels.
“Sir.” Rhys raised his hand to his hat as the general came to a halt in front of the quartermasters.
Washington dismounted, a dozen of his Life Guards near, and gestured to a path that led to a makeshift chapel and graveyard. Rhys fell into step beside him.
Washington walked with head down and hands clasped behind his back. “Prepare to leave for Fort Montgomery within twenty-four hours of my order to march.”
New York, hazy till now, came sharply into focus. Rhys digested the news without comment as the general continued.
“You’re now in charge of a four-hundred-man corps of riflemen comprised of the Virginia and Pennsylvania lines, which will act as vanguard ahead of the main body of the army once it joins you for the next campaign.”
“You’ve changed your mind about reinforcing Ticonderoga, then.”
“For now the plan is to advance no further than the Hudson Highlands. If all goes as planned, you may be joining the northern army under General Gates as reinforcements against an expected British invasion from Canada. Once you reach Stony Point you’ll be augmented by three hundred light infantry under Major Dearborn. ”
A well-thought-out plan. “Burgoyne has left England for Canada, then.”
“Aye, the latest intelligence indicates he’s expected in Quebec soon. Once he arrives, he plans to march south from there toward Ticonderoga, then continue down the Hudson River. His eye is on Albany, where he’ll likely join forces with Howe and possibly St. Leger.”
“Who mean to dominate New York and cut the supply chain between our northern and southern forces.”
“Aye, by seizing waterways foremost. Their attempt last year failed, but they seem poised to try again. Their goal is to quell all rebellion in New England, which they hope will force the southern states into submission.”
Rhys well knew Virginia’s mood—every bit as volatile as Massachusetts’s. “The southern states will never submit even if the northern front is brought to heel.”
“My aim is to keep any separation from happening. To win this war we must make the conflict as costly to our enemies as possible and as long as possible, forcing any who want a hasty conclusion to retreat and thereby surrender.” Washington turned a corner, trading the sun for shade.
“That’s not uppermost in my mind at the moment but Colonel Bohannon’s request from the Hudson Highlands. ”
Rhys’s mind veered to Mae. He’d heard from Bohannon that his brother—Colonel Jon—had written Washington about his sisters accompanying the army if they moved north into New York.
Rhys was against it yet held his peace about the matter, which was in truth a family affair.
If Washington approved the request, he’d deal with it then.
Traveling with the army was a safer endeavor than if they ventured there in a small party.
“Two other ladies—both officers’ wives—will be traveling north with the army to the Hudson.
Colonel Bohannon’s kin will accompany them.
” Washington turned to look at him. “You’re acquainted with the Bohannon sisters, are you not?
I saw you dancing with one of them the other night.
In fact, I remember you billeted with them for a time. ”
Rhys nodded. “Aye.”
“There’s no better guard than your Rifle Corps. Given that, I would assign you to the Misses Bohannon once we decamp.”
Rhys’s resistance roared as his plan for Mae to remain in Jersey unraveled. Stoic, he kept walking, matching his long stride to the general’s as Washington concluded their conversation.
“I would have you and your men as defense, especially if matters turn deadly. You know as well as I that the territory to be crossed requires supreme vigilance.”