“We must celebrate,” Coralie said, raising her glass of cider. “Mrs. Hurst has made a splendid pudding.”
As their housekeeper brought in dessert, Mae heard the front door open and shut. James? She’d discarded any hope Rhys would be with him. As expected, Captain Sperry accompanied him instead. With wind-chapped, reddened faces, the men joined them at the table, offering congratulations at the happy news.
“You’ve come from Morristown?” Aaron asked.
“Aye.” James sat down in his usual place. “Tomorrow is the Sabbath, so we’ve no drill or other duties.”
Watching them, Mae sensed something amiss, though neither officer said another word. The men devoted their attention to their supper plates as talk turned to other matters.
“Pastor Heath is holding an outdoor service if the weather doesn’t worsen,” Aaron told them. “I hope you both can join us.”
“General Washington himself might attend,” Captain Sperry said between bites.
A hush fell over the dining room.
Mae grew more uneasy, wearying of the ongoing suspense.
“He’s greatly indebted to Chatham and the benevolence shown to his men while here,” James said as he poured more cider. “I sense he wants to express his thanks in person.”
Was the army preparing to march? Mae pushed down her melancholy. “Speaking of benevolence, we’ve another wagonload of goods to be delivered when there’s time.”
“Monday morning, then, if the weather holds,” James replied.
“We’ve been supplying a number of rheumatism remedies, which usually indicates a turn in the weather.” Aaron’s words weren’t entirely in jest. Old, aching bones often foretold conditions when nothing else did.
“Just when we began to hope for spring.” Hanna put a hand to her waist and made a face. “I’m afraid the babe is protesting my supper.”
“Perhaps you should lie down,” Aaron said in concern.
“I’ll brew some mint tea,” Mae offered, disappearing to the kitchen while Hanna and Aaron continued to the parlor.
As she steeped the fragrant tea, Mae counted the days till the ball—unless the Continental Army began to move again. Already she missed Rhys. How would it be once a greater distance separated them—perhaps once and for all?
By morning, Sabbath service was the furthest thing from their minds. A northeaster had swept in during the night, leaving an ice-edged blanket of snow, immobilizing all of Chatham and beyond, and surely sending spring back to wherever it came from. Leaning into the windowsill of her bedchamber, her warm breath fogging the icy pane, Mae wondered just how cold Lowantica Valley was.
As she dressed in the frigid dawn, she counted her immediate blessings. Quilted petticoats. Salt. Freshly milled flour. Firewood. From the kitchen below came the aroma of coffee and baking bread. Never mind that the eggs and milk would be frozen. They were snug, well-fed, and beneath a sturdy roof.
Mae let go of her disappointment at not seeing General Washington for the first time as the service was canceled. Any plans to decamp would also be delayed with the weather.
In the parlor where a robust fire was lit, she returned to sewing, which had become such a satisfying part of her days, and recalled Rhys’s pleasure at finding her initials sewn into the hem of his shirts with indigo thread. What would fill the absence when her efforts weren’t needed anymore?
As the Sabbath afternoon stretched long, Coralie played the spinet, the bright tones resonating to the rafters. After several cups of independence tea—though Mae didn’t dare call it that to Coralie—they both planned to write letters, but the ink had frozen in the inkwells.
“I suppose winters in the New York frontier are just as frigid as here, if not more so,” Coralie mused, cradling her cup in herhands. “Though Jon never complains when he does write from along the Hudson River.”
Again, Mae wondered just where Lieutenant Gibbs was in so vast a territory. “If you do marry and settle in New York, you might see Jon far more.”
“How odd to think there may even be another infant we’ve not met by now. I must say, Jon and Joanna seem as fertile as their fields.”
They laughed, and Mae felt some of the tension between them ebb. “I do wonder where we’ll all settle once the war ends.”
“Perhaps you’ll remain right here. Pastor Heath recently escorted you home. A fortuitous match, as Father hoped.”
Fortuitous and far-fetched. But Mae said nothing.
Coralie regarded her intently. “For a time I worried you might succumb to General Harlow’s attentions. I breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped billeting here.”
Mae nearly bit her tongue in two. “Why do you find him so disagreeable?”
