To cash paid for saddlery, a letter case, maps, glasses, etc etc etc. for the use of my Command: pound symbol here 29, 13 shillings and sixpence. ... To Mrs Washington’s travelling expenses in coming to and returning from my winter quarters, the money to defray that taken from my private purse: pound symbol 1064, one shilling.
George Washington’s expense claims to Congress
On the next Sabbath in Morristown, Rhys attended church. First Presbyterian’s white spire, seen for miles, impaled a cloudless spring sky. General Washington entered first surrounded by his Life Guards, the pews filling fast. Rhys followed with Bohannon, his gaze immediately landing on Mae. She sat with her sister and an elderly woman. Her aunt?
“Careful lest Aunt Verity invite you to Sunday dinner,” Bohannon murmured as they took the pew behind them.
“Our last civilized meal,” Rhys replied. “I’m tempted.”
But the only temptation for now was Mae, and if he had to weather Aunt Verity he’d be glad to do it. He’d been so entrenched in preparations to decamp he’d not had a moment to spare her. When she turned her head to acknowledge him, she smiled, easing his mind somewhat.
Bohannon had brought both sisters and their baggage and horses to Morristown day before yesterday. Tomorrow they would march. There was now no doubt they were leaving, nor any use praying they’d stay behind. Though Mae had no finer guard than the Rifle Corps, he still had grave concerns about her going, and that included her sister. Coralie was as fractious as Mae was amiable. He wanted no trouble on the trail. The enemy without was concerning enough, but an enemy within...
The service began, and the pastor’s sermon about Abraham going into the wilderness was not far from the mark. Washington appeared thoughtful, his attention unswerving despite two hours passing. A special prayer was said for the safety and protection of the Rifle Corps, given their destination. When the final hymn was sung, all filed outside into the April sun, where Bohannon’s prediction materialized as Aunt Verity descended like a hawk, fixing Rhys with a canny eye.
“General Harlow, I presume? You must join us for Sabbath dinner.”
“Gladly,” Rhys replied, replacing his hat as Mae came to stand beside him.
“My housekeeper has prepared ample dishes—a sort of farewell celebration. ’Tis not every day we have two fine officers joining us.” She smiled up at her nephew, who dutifully leaned over and kissed her wrinkled cheek before offering her his arm, Coralie on his other side.
Mae lay a gloved hand on Rhys’s extended forearm as they made their way down the congested street and slowed her steps so they were well behind her family. “Is all in order to leave on the morrow?”
“We depart at dawn.” One look at her entreating expression and he remembered Bohannon’s words.Details.Women wanted details. “You’ll ride at the center of the column, such as it is. My men don’t march in formation as do regulars and militia. There’ll be the customary baggage train to slow us, but with fair weather,no breakdowns, and no enemy activity, we should arrive in a week or so.”
The longest week or so of his life. She’d be closely guarded, and he’d not rest till she was safely in Colonel Bohannon’s hands.
“A few days’ march through the wilderness is doable if difficult,” she said serenely. “As I’ve already mentioned, I’d rather be with you than without you, come what may.”
Sabbath dinner proved a formidable feast. Rhys navigated Mae’s aunt’s probing questions with as much tact as he could muster while consuming large amounts of roast beef and all the early vegetables her garden could provide, as well as a great deal of wheaten bread and gravy.
“So, my dear nephew, promise you’ll send word that my nieces have arrived safely? I want to hear all about Jon and his family too.”
“I promise,” Bohannon said, forking another bite of beef. “I’d feel bad about leaving you if Aaron and Hanna weren’t near at hand. They asked me to relay their hope you’ll visit them soon.”
“If the village isn’t rubble and ashes, you mean.” She smirked. “Otherwise a visit to Chatham might suit, though neither village shall be the same once the entire army is gone. I won’t know quite what to do with myself.”
Thankfully the talk turned to crops, a local fair, the Sabbath sermon, and the birth of Morristown’s triplets before circling back around to New York.
“Well, I must say, I’m confident that Maebel is in good hands, General Harlow.” Aunt Verity’s smile faded as she looked to Coralie with noticeable concern. “I wish I could say the same for my youngest niece and Lieutenant Gibbs.”
A hush fell over the room. Rhys sensed Mae’s unease even as Coralie looked abashed. What was afoot? At the opposite end of the table, Bohannon cleared his throat and set down his knife and fork.
“Lieutenant Eben Gibbs?” he asked, attention on Coralie. “I’mnot sure what happened to him since he left Chatham, though I sense you do.”
“We exchange letters on occasion,” Coralie said, eyes down as she dabbed at her lips with her napkin. “Though his last letter was rather ... lacking.”
“Like the man himself,” Bohannon muttered.
“James!” Coralie stared at him in reproach. “I’ll not have you talk that way about an officer—”
“In the British army?”
Rhys sensed he’d stepped into a wasps’ nest. Mae looked as distressed as Coralie.
“What are his intentions?” Bohannon persisted.
When Coralie failed to answer, Aunt Verity said, “Last I heard, he considers the war all but won. She hasn’t shared more than that.”
