Nine #2
They both gave Lucy an appraising study, as though they had nothing better to do than stare at her.
Their scrutiny made her uncomfortable, but also glad she had taken time to change from her old chore gown into a robes à l’anglaise that always made her feel feminine and pretty.
The cream fabric featured a diamond pattern of delicate green vines with a nosegay of pink and blue flowers in the center of each diamond.
She had taken extra care with her hair before pulling on a crisp white linen cap.
The reason for her attention to her appearance was in hopes Branch might stop by.
It certainly wasn’t to impress two slack-bellied Loyalists with nothing better to do than wander about the city ogling young ladies.
“May I help you gentlemen?” Ward asked, stepping in front of Lucy.
She busied herself polishing the glass front of their display case while her father assisted the two men.
It seemed one of them was searching for a matched set of knee and shoe buckles.
The shop carried several options, so Lucy made sure to stay out of the way while her father assisted them.
She listened, though, as they openly discussed the Redcoats’ plans to attack General Washington and his troops on Long Island before the month was over.
Lucy nearly dropped the ornate gilded platter she had moved to clean beneath it.
Carefully setting it back on the display case with fingers that wanted to tremble, she forced herself to draw in a calming breath and feign disinterest in the men and their information.
She had no idea if what they said was true or not, but the message could be important to General Washington.
Quietly, Lucy dusted her way over to where her father wrapped the purchase of the buckles and then accepted the coins the man paid him as the two Loyalists continued discussing battle plans.
“Is there a reason you’re nearly dusting right over the top of me?” Ward asked with a twinkle in his eye when the men had left the shop.
“No, Papa. I apologize. Those men were …”
“Rude,” her father supplied. “I know you are a lovely young woman, but they ought not to stare at you like they are prone to sometimes do.” Her father set a hand on her shoulder. “Speaking of men who stare at you, is Branch stopping by today?”
Flustered, Lucy shrugged and twisted the dusting cloth in her hands. “I’m not certain, Papa. He failed to mention his plans when he left last evening.”
“Poor boy seems rather worn out. I didn’t realize being a merchant trader was such tiring work.”
Lucy knew Branch told people he was a merchant who traded goods because there were so many people doing that very thing in the city.
He did occasionally do the job, but it was easy enough for him to blend in without having an actual business.
She had seen him bartering for crates of supplies one day down at the wharf, but she assumed they would make their way to the Continental Army.
“He has been busy of late,” she said, then tried to think how she could excuse herself long enough to write a coded message and have someone send for a courier.
Two women, both Patriots whom Lucy knew from church, came in searching for a gift for Mrs. Lewyellen’s husband’s birthday.
Lucy greeted them politely and stepped aside as her father guided them to a display of items suitable for gifting to a man.
While her father was distracted assisting them, Lucy raced up to her room, wrote a message and rolled it up, stuffing it into a toothpick case she had just finished working on yesterday.
She had added a false compartment to the back of it where messages could be hidden.
A tiny latch inside the case would open it when pressed with the tip of a toothpick.
She hoped the design was clever enough to go undetected by anyone searching for messages on the couriers.
Assured it was ready, she tucked it into her pocket and made a trip out to the necessary, which gave her an opportunity to ask Theo to run to Doctor Gray’s with a request for a courier before she hastened back inside the shop.
Lucy was sure her mother suspected something was afoot because every time Lucy sent Theo on a spy-related errand, her mother turned a blind eye and often made an excuse when Ward asked questions regarding the boy’s whereabouts.
Her father glanced up from the workbench, where he was working on repairing a watch chain that had broken. Mr. Franklin had requested the repair, and her father was honored to make it.
“Is everything well, Lucy? You seem unlike yourself today.” Ward offered her a studying glance.
She smiled at her father and took her seat on the stool beside him. “All is well, Papa. At least as well as it can be on such a warm day. Do you think the heat will ever lessen?”
“It won’t be long before you’ll be sitting there complaining of the winter cold seeping in and freezing your toes.”
Lucy grinned. “Likely I will be. Perhaps we should line the front of the workbench with wool to help keep out the chill this winter.”
“I’ll think on it, Daughter.”
They worked in silence for a while until they heard approaching footsteps.
An attractive gentleman Lucy didn’t recognize stepped into the shop, swept off his hat, and smiled.
“Good afternoon. I was looking for a new set of shoe buckles. I’m not certain how it happened, but I seem to have lost one of mine betwixt breaking my morning fast and partaking of dinner at the City Tavern. Might you have any replacements?”
“Of course. Right this way,” her father said, leading the man over to the display of men’s shoe buckles.
Lucy kept working on the bracelet she was making, but she wondered if a lost buckle was the only reason the man had come to the shop.
Concluding she was allowing her thoughts of spying to color her view of everyone who set foot inside the door, she decided the man probably had, indeed, merely lost a shoe buckle.
“Thank you, good sir,” the man said when Ward offered to fetch a chair so he could put the new buckles he had purchased on his shoes. The moment her father retreated to the kitchen for the chair, the man hurried over to Lucy.
“Hello,” she said, offering a polite but not-quite-friendly smile.
“Do you happen to know where I can get a cup of sassafras tea? I’m quite parched,” the man whispered.
“I may know of a place,” Lucy said, setting aside the bracelet and her tools. Her fingers curled around the toothpick case in her pocket.
“Would this place also happen to carry a stock of lockets? I’m looking for one in particular and didn’t see it on display here.”
“Particular lockets are hard to find, aren’t they?” she asked, convinced the man was a courier. “Do you suppose the blacksmith might have one?”
“Not likely, but he recommended asking the fetching young miss at the goldsmith’s shop about sassafras tea.”
“I see,” Lucy said with a blush, and quickly took the toothpick case from her pocket, placing it in the man’s hand.
“The locket is … not here. A toothpick is required to open the case,” she whispered in a rush because she could hear her father’s footsteps in the storage room that separated the shop from the kitchen.
“Clever,” the man said, sliding the toothpick case into his waistcoat pocket. He moved back a few paces and turned to Ward when he stepped into view with a chair.
Relieved her message had been successfully transferred with her father none the wiser, Lucy returned to working on the bracelet with a feeling of relief. Once the man left the shop, Lucy relaxed and lost herself in her skill of the craft.
The afternoon was hot, and the only choices were to endure the flies that swarmed inside if they left the door open, or close it and suffer in the stifling heat. Ward opted for flies. Lucy fanned the door back and forth to create the hint of a breeze.
“Would you fetch me a cup of cider, Daughter? This heat is unbearable.”
“It is awful,” Lucy agreed. She had just moved away from the door when she heard her mother yelp, followed by the sound of a crash.
She raced into the kitchen with her father on her heels to find her mother standing over the shards of a broken plate that had held peach slices, and two men looming in the open doorway, their gazes downcast as they held each other up.
One wore a cloak that looked like it had been rolled in the muddy banks of the river.
The other was nearly as dirty. Both appeared to have over-indulged in something far stronger than cider.
“Be away with you both. You have no business here,” Ward said, taking a step toward them.
Theo thumped down the stairs and hopped off the last three to stand next to Lucy, evidently drawn from upstairs by the noise. His small hand latched on to hers in reassurance that they weren’t all about to be robbed or murdered.
“I know we have no business here, but we require and request the help just the same,” the man who wasn’t wrapped in the cloak spoke in a voice as familiar to Lucy as her own.
She released Theo’s hand and snatched the hat off the head of the man who had spoken. A gasp escaped her when Branch looked at her with pain evident in his green eyes.
“What has happened?” Ward asked, moving to the other side of the man Branch appeared to be holding upright.
When the fellow in the cloak lifted his head, Lucy realized he was the man who had purchased the buckles—the one to whom she had given the toothpick case.
“Two Redcoat spies shot at him before he could get out of town. Doctor Gray’s office is being watched, or I would have taken Thomas directly there,” Branch said, moving farther into the kitchen. He looked at Theo. “Be a good lad and go fetch a bucket of water, Theo. Please.”
Theo raced outside without question.
“What can we do?” Cleta asked, taking a step closer to Branch.