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“I’LL THINK OF SOMETHING,” Betsy said.
The following evening, Joseph collected Betsy early, telling her his aunt had requested they join her for dinner that night. As they walked to her home, Joseph relayed the news he’d heard on the wharf that day regarding conditions in New York.
“The Battle of Long Island was a slaughter,” Joseph began. “Two of our generals were either captured, or killed. General Stirling and . . .”
“General Sullivan.”
“How did you know that?”
“I heard it from the Loyalist women yesterday. Miss Olsen said her fiancé was ordered to guard the general they’d captured. Do go on, please, Joseph.”
“Apparently General Washington reached the Heights just after the fighting commenced and from an elevated position above the battlefield, he watched the battle unfold before him through his telescope. One soldier heard him mutter, ‘Good God! What brave fellows I must lose today!’ ”
“Oh, dear,” Betsy murmured. “We must not tell Sarah such disturbing news.”
“Apparently, Washington actually saw the British army advancing from all three sides but was unable to get word to any of his commanding officers. It’s said the Hessians soldiers chased our troops through the trees and plunged bayonets through their chests even as the men paused to reload their muskets.”
“Oh-h,” Betsy moaned. Such distressing details of battle always sickened her.
“Four or five hours into the battle, a few commanders gave their troops leave to run for their lives. Our boys tried again and again to cut through British lines to reach safety but in the end, only ten men succeeded. A good many were shot down as they tried to slog through a muddy creek. Over fifteen hundred rebel troops were killed.” Joseph paused to draw breath. “The rest were taken prisoner. As things now stand, what’s left of our army is bottled up behind their own fortifications; trapped by British forces with no way to climb out. Our men may be putting on brave faces, Betsy, but bravado and empty muskets will not win this war.”
“All the same, you and I must put on a brave face for your Aunt Ashburn. I do not wish to unduly alarm her either.”
“At this juncture, not a one of us is unduly alarmed.”
* * *
EARLY THE FOLLOWING morning, Betsy walked to the High Street market. Browsing through the stalls, an empty basket slung over one arm, she deliberated over what to purchase with the few coins left in her pocket. Of a sudden, her concentration was shattered when a messenger clattered up on horseback, swung down from the saddle and began to shout that during the night General Washington and the entire Continental Army had escaped from beneath the very noses of the British! Amidst gasps of disbelief and a volley of questions, Philadelphians learned that in an astonishing move during a torrential rain storm last night the entire rebel army was ferried across the Hudson River and every last soldier was even now safely ashore in Manhattan. Left behind on Long Island, the breathless rider exclaimed, were only a few old cannon too deeply sunk in the mud to pull out.
Following the messenger’s proclamation cheers erupted in the marketplace and instead of frowning, everyone was smiling. Merchants especially welcomed the good news for suddenly folks began buying up all they could carry for special celebratory dinners. Betsy could hardly wait to finish her shopping and rush to Sarah’s side to tell her the good news. Once she’d put away her purchases, she did just that.
“They are safe? All our men are safe!” Sarah cried after her sister had delivered her news.
“Well,” Betsy modified, “those that were not killed in the fighting, or . . . taken prisoner.”
“Oh.” Sarah’s face fell. “Then it is too soon to rejoice. I must not get my hopes up lest they be dashed to the ground when I learn that William was struck down on the battlefield, or taken prisoner. Oh, Betsy, how shall I bear it?”
“God will give thee strength to bear every trial, Sarah; just as He did me. Would you like to come and stay with me? Your presence helped me through my time of trouble. Perhaps now I can help you.”
Sarah considered, but in the end, declared she mustn’t risk being away from home if William should return to Philadelphia wounded and need her there to care for him. Besides, she had . . . other considerations. “Rachel, for one,” she said. “Oh, Betsy, I know you do not wish it, but our Rachel is quite in love with her Frenchman.”
Betsy’s lips thinned. She had hoped the matter would not arise today. But, now that it had, she had no choice but to reveal the truth to Sarah about François. “I’m so sorry for Rachel,” she began, her mind casting about for how to proceed. She had never divulged to Sarah that she’d actually been spying on the Loyalist women, plus Sarah knew nothing about the Secret Committees of Correspondence.
“Sarah, please trust me when I say that Rachel must never see François again. That is all I can divulge at the moment. I truly do have Rachel’s best interests at heart.” Betsy shifted in her chair at Sarah’s kitchen table, both girls’ hands wrapped around warm cups of black tea.
“I do not understand your opposition to Rachel’s courtship, Betsy. I would expect you’d be happy our sister has found love.”
“Our sister has not found love, Sarah. To find love with François is not possible.”
“You are being unkind.”
“Sarah, there is a great deal that neither you nor Rachel know about François.” After a pause, she blurted out, “Joseph has uncovered undeniable proof that François is a spy!”
“That is absurd!” Sarah scoffed. “I do not believe it! François is all that is kind and charitable; he is . . .”
“Loyal to the British!” Betsy exclaimed. “François is selling secrets to our army that in the end will harm every last one of us, perhaps even result in William’s death.”
Sarah blanched. “I . . . I cannot believe it.”
“Nonetheless, it is true. Even Uncle Abel warned me against François.”
“What has Uncle Abel to say to this?”
“Apparently word is circulating that I am seeing François. Uncle Abel told me what he knows of the Frenchman in an effort to warn me against him. I am now trying to do the same for Rachel. And you.” She did not mention that her uncle was uncertain whether or not François was the double spy, but it didn’t matter. Betsy was certain that he was.
Sarah’s chin trembled. “You must own that your claims seem quite outrageous . . .”
“I am speaking the truth,” Betsy insisted. “Surely you can see that Rachel must not be allowed to see François again.” She waited, praying she had said enough. She did not wish to cause further pain by revealing what François truly through of Rachel, that she merely amused him; that he was trifling with her and that when not with her, he could barely dredge up a memory of who she was!
“W-what exactly did Uncle Abel say?”
“That François is a ruthless double spy, who is extremely cunning and dangerous.”
Sarah exhaled a weary sigh. “Oh, Betsy. It is all too much to take in. I am far too worried over William to think of anything else. Rachel is planning to see François this very evening. I fear I shan’t be able to persuade her otherwise.”
“Would you like me to try?” Betsy knew she was treading on thin ice. If Rachel found her here when she arrived at Sarah’s home this evening, the girl might bolt. So far as Betsy knew, Rachel still believed, as did their parents, that Betsy must be shunned. On the other hand, Rachel was clearly proving that she, too, had a rebellious streak and was unafraid of opposing their parent’s strict Quaker beliefs. “What time do you expect Rachel to arrive this evening?”
“She is typically here just after sundown.”
“Then, I shall arrive a bit before. Between us, we shall surely be able to convince Rachel of the truth.”
* * *
BY HALF-PAST SEVEN of the clock that evening, neither Rachel nor François had arrived at Sarah’s home for the proposed outing. Sarah told Betsy and Joseph, who had insisted upon accompanying Betsy, that either Rachel had changed her mind, or that the lovers had made alternate plans and failed to alert her.
“One other time,” Sarah said, “Rachel quite by accident ran into François on his way here to collect her and I knew nothing of it until much later. Perhaps that was the case tonight.”
“Did Rachel have plans to stay the night with you?” Betsy asked.
“She typically does when she steps out with François. I assume she meant to tonight.”
“So,” Betsy calculated, “if our parents are not expecting her to return home this evening, there is no point in asking them where she might be.”
“Unless her plans changed, our parents believe she is here with me.”
A worried gaze slid to Joseph. “What do you think we should do?” Betsy asked him.
He shrugged. “Thus far, the Frenchman hasn’t harmed your sister; perhaps he’ll not harm her tonight.” He addressed Sarah. “Do you know what their plans were for this evening? Were they to attend a public dance?”
Betsy answered the question. “Due to the war, entertainments of every sort are now in abeyance. All public dances have been suspended.”
“I don’t know what their plans were,” Sarah replied. “They often merely walk to North East Square, or they walk as far as South East Square. They sit on a bench and talk; then he escorts her back here.”
“What time do they usually return from their walk?” Joseph asked.
“The time varies. It is nearly eight of the clock now. Sometimes he brings her back by nine, sometimes as late as ten. I am certain she is safe, Betsy. Despite your ill feelings toward him, François has been all that is good and kind toward Rachel. I am certain he will not harm her.”
“Very well,” Betsy replied. “For the nonce, I suppose I’ve no choice but to leave matters as they are.” She rose, as did Joseph. “But I’ve not given up my resolve to alert Rachel to the man’s true character. Given what I’ve told you, Sarah, I would expect you’d be eager to break all ties with him also. His loyalty clearly lies with the British. That makes him our enemy.”
Sarah flinched. “It is difficult to think of him that way.”
Irritated, Betsy bit back a saucy retort. “Let us be off, Joseph.”
When they were alone, she exploded. “At times it is all I can do not to shake Sarah from her complacency! François’s duplicity could have already played a part in killing Sarah’s husband and yet, she seems unwilling to distance herself from him. I cannot fathom it, I cannot.”
“I take it you’ve not abandoned your resolve to expose his crime.”
“Indeed, I have not!” Betsy’s blue eyes snapped fire. “I have every intention of confronting him the very next time I see him. Perhaps I shall have him arrested. And hung,” she added.
“Promise me you will say nothing to him unless I am there to protect you. He is a dangerous man, love, and once he realizes you’re aware of his duplicity, there’s no saying what he will do.”
Betsy squared her shoulders. “Perhaps we should pay a call upon him together then. Would tomorrow evening suit?”
“Tomorrow evening it is,” Joseph agreed.