“To the winter at Valley Forge!”
Neither of them was quite aware yet of what those words would mean.
XVIII
Amanda had known that things were going badly. She knew that General Washington had gone to Valley Forge from his defeat at Germantown, and Damien had warned her that the men were in bad shape.
But once Damien had identified himself and they entered into the compound—she, Damien, Geneva, and Jacques Bisset—Amanda was still stunned by the appearance of the men and the encampment.
Snow rose everywhere, piled high, part of the biting cold of the winter. The soldiers’ homes were crude log buildings that they had constructed themselves. Smoke billowed from makeshift chimneys, windows were covered with canvas or paper. There didn’t seem to be a leaf or a straggling bush left alive anywhere; about the emcampment there were only the barren and naked branches of tall trees, skeletal, deathlike.
Yet the camp was not so appalling as the men. As Damien flicked the reins and the horse dragged the cart onward, they passed hundreds of men. Lined up along the trail, some waved, some saluted, and some just stared. They huddled in frayed blankets, shivering, staying close to one another. Amanda’s eyes fell toward the ground and she gasped, despairing to see that many had no shoes, but stood in the snow with their feet bound in rags.
“My God!” she breathed, and tears stung her eyes. “Dear God, but perhaps surrender would be better than this!”
No retreat, no surrender. The words rose in her heart. They had always been there, between her and Eric. And now they seemed appropriate for the ragtag army. They had come this far. Surely they were weighed down heavily with despair.
Damien exhaled behind her. “Washington endures this place day after day while there are those in Congress trying to tear him down. I’ve never seen a man so willing to suffer with his subordinates, so touched by all that he sees.” He flicked the reins again. “There, up ahead, are the command quarters. I see your husband’s ensignia. There lies your home, Amanda.”
“And what of mine?” Geneva asked sweetly from the rear.
Amanda swung around to grin at her old friend. Geneva had been eager to come. She had sworn that she could cure many a man of whatever ailed him. But looking about the complex, she did not seem so assured.
“My dear lady, I shall see that you have the finest accommodations in the place!” Damien assured her.
“See that you do,” Geneva replied sweetly. Amanda could feel the sparks flying between them. She glanced at Jacques and grinned, then lowered her head, still smiling. They were both so strong-willed and determined upon their own way. Perhaps they deserved one another.
Damien pulled in on the reins. As he did so, Amanda saw Eric appear in the doorway of one of the huts. He was striking as he stood there, very tall in the shadows. But even his uniform seemed ragged, his boots were shined but worn, the brass upon his frock coat was heavily tarnished. His face was lean and hard, perhaps more arresting than ever, taut with character, his eyes very blue against the bronze of his features. But they were not welcoming eyes. They did not touch her with warmth, but with reserve.
She had thought to run to him, to find herself swept off her feet. Suddenly she could not run. Her heart was caught in her throat. Eric remained still, and Jacques helped her down from the wagon.
“Lady Cameron!”
Thankfully, Washington had stepped out from around her husband, a petite, rounded woman in a mob cap coming behind him. “Lady Cameron, as your husband seems tongue-tied, I must welcome you to Valley Forge. Martha, have you ever met Eric’s wife? I hadn’t thought so, well, you must do so now. Lady Cameron—”
“Amanda,” she breathed quickly.
Many had speculated that George had married the widow Martha Custis for her money alone—there had been many more attractive and younger women available to him at the time. Amanda realized instantly what Washington had seen in the woman. As the older woman welcomed her with a kiss and hug, Amanda was enveloped by an overwhelming sense of warmth. There was a kindness in her light eyes that was unmistakable. She attracted just like the comforting heat of a fire.
“Damien, you rascal, you disappear and return with two beautiful young ladies!” Washington called. “Lady Geneva, welcome. Good God, Cameron, shouldn’t we have them in out of the cold. And you too, Monsieur Bisset. Do come on in. All that we have is yours, however meager that may be!”
“We’ve brought supplies from Cameron Hall,” Amanda said softly. She thought of the meat and grain and coffee and tobacco in the barrels and chests aboard the wagon, and she thought of the thousands of men here. It would hardly make a dent.
“Amanda?”
Eric reached out a hand to her at last, stepping forward. His fingers curled around hers and he drew her close, kissing her coolly upon the cheek. He asked her quickly about the twins and she said that they were well. Then he led her inside, and she instantly stiffened.
Anne Marie was there, standing by a coffeepot that heated over the hearth fire.
“Amanda!” Anne Marie came forward, kissing her swiftly on the cheek. Amanda tried to smile in return. Damien and Geneva and the Washingtons were entering, and it seemed that everyone was talking at once. Anne Marie hugged her.
“So you have been fighting this war with the men, have you?” Amanda asked sweetly.
“I’ve followed Father from the very beginning,” Anne Marie agreed. “I should say, since he decided to cast in with the patriots. I’d no real idea for the longest time just which way we were meant to go.”
“This is a horrible place to be,” Washington said suddenly, softly. “Horrible. I’ve eleven thousand men here. Of that number, almost three thousand are without shoes or are half naked, and Congress tells me there is nothing to be given my men, nothing to be done. Ah, ladies, you should not be here.”
“Oh, posh!” Mrs. Washington protested. “If I did not see you, Mr. Washington, in your winter quarters, why, then I should have no husband at all.”
