I hope you enjoy my new story.
A/N: I do not own anything except my OCs.
Prologue:
November 18, 1780
A young woman with long, wavy, golden hair stood in her shift and her linen stockings, brushing out her hair slowly as she looked into the full-length mirror. She slowly braided her hair, then fashioned it in a plain knot at the nape of her neck. She sighed softly and tied on her stays tightly. When her sister had still been living with her, they had helped each other put on their stays, but now that her older sister was married and living on a farm, she was alone to try to tie them off. She tied her pocket about her waist, carefully placing her purse inside it before putting on her linen underpetticoat over it. Next came her cotton petticoat, a soft blue that was almost the same shade as the sky, then her white bonnet that she tied in a bow under her chin. Her gown, the same blue as her petticoat, hugged her body to just above her hips, then flared out to the floor. She tied on her neckerchief and her brightly white apron, then her buckled shoes.
It was a pain to get dressed, she decided for the umpteenth time, but she knew she would repeat the routine again the next day. She sighed, picking up her carpetbag, tying on her cloak and straw hat before leaving the room she had let for the night. She paid for a meagre hot breakfast, then left to board a carriage to go to a place called the Davenport Homestead. Her aunt and uncle, Corrine and Oliver Bradford, had asked her to come stay with them while she was still looking for a new position. It had been a kind offer, of course, and she had been loathe to accept it, but circumstances had prompted her to change her mind. To get from Boston to the homestead, it took three days, stopping in Lexington, Concord, and Monmouth to drop off other passengers. By the time they crossed onto Davenport land, night had fallen on the third day and she was the only one left in the carriage.
"Davenport's Homestead, Mile's End," the driver called. She stood, took a deep breath, then stepped out of the carriage.
"Tempy!" Corrine exclaimed, rushing to envelope the young woman in a tight hug. "Oh, you look exhausted, poor dear."
"I'm only a bit on the tired side, Aunt Corrine," she said with a soft smile. "Oh, no, Uncle Oliver, I can carry by bag."
"Nonsense, you silly girl, I can carry your carpetbag for you," he said with a laugh as he hefted her bag over his shoulder. "Besides you're much too tired to be able to carry this heavy, old thing."
Tempy laughed softly, holding her aunt's arm as she led the way into the Inn and the driver carried in her trunk. "Is your inn closed, Aunt Corrine? It's hardly nigh on eight o' clock."
"Aye, we closed up the bar so we could talk to you without having to stop to tend to the general public," Uncle Oliver replied with a sly wink before going upstairs to lead the carriage driver to her room and drop off the carpetbag.
"You didn't have to do that for me," Tempy protested, pressing her lips together. "I would have been happy to wait until morning to have a proper conversation."
"Aye, you would have been been happy to wait, but we wouldn't, dear," Aunt Corrine replied, smiling as she poured a mug of ale for each of the three. "Now, how was your trip, m'dear?"
"It was long and I'm glad to see friendly, familiar faces," she replied with a soft laugh.
"I bet you are, m'dear. You never were one for strangers, were you?" Uncle Oliver said when he came back downstairs, holding the door for the carriage driver. Tempy shook her head, sipping her ale. "Then it's no wonder you didn't enjoy your austere trip in the carriage."
Tempy giggled softly at her uncle's sarcasm as he joined them at the bar. It wasn't more than a few moments before there was a knock on the door. "I thought you said you were closed, Uncle."
"I am," he chortled, standing to open the door. A tall, broad, dark-skinned man stood in the doorway. "Well, hello, Connor! I'm sorry to turn you away, but we're closed up for the night."
"I know, I'll only need a moment of your time. Have you seen Donald and Douglas? Terry and Diana have been looking for them since just before sunset," the man said, his dark eyes trained on Oliver.
"I'm sorry to say we haven't, Connor."
"We can help look for them," Tempy said, standing and placing her mug on the bar.
"Oh, Tempy, you've only just gotten here, you must be bone tired!" Aunt Corrine exclaimed, placing a hand on Tempy's shoulder.
"It is part of my profession to worry about children, Aunt, that doesn't stop because I don't hold a position currently," she said, smiling as she tied her cloak back on and walked to the door. "You two stay here and have some strong tea waiting for me when I come back."
"Are you sure?" the man named Connor asked, looking her up and down.
"I am quite sure I can handle a search, sir," she said, raising an eyebrow before brushing past him. "Now, we must be off unless you'd like to never find the boys."
The man led her to the boys' home where the two parents stood bereft. "Have you ever tracked before?" the man asked, frowning at her.
Tempy ignored his doubt as she moved around the edge of the small clearing surrounding the home, not caring that he seemed to have other ideas as he went in another direction. She found a few footprints on the east side of the clearing and followed them slowly toward a river. There she found more footprints going upriver, a few indicated that at least one or both of the boys had slipped in the mud. The slipping seemed to get more frequent which didn't bode well in Tempy's mind.
"Help! Help someone!" a boy's voice called. Tempy gathered up her skirts and ran toward the voice, far enough from the bank that she herself wouldn't slip into the angry water. She rounded the bend and saw one little boy kneeling beside another that lay on the ground. "Miss! Miss, please help!"
Tempy ran over to the boys and knelt beside them. "What happened?" she asked gently.
"Donald and I was runnin' by the river and 'e slipped in. I got 'im out, but 'e's so cold and his leg's all crooked and I couldnae get him to open his eyes. Please, Pa will be furious at me," Douglas explained quickly, his eyes wide with fright.
Tempy nodded, pulling her cloak off and wrapped it around Donald. "Can you help me, Douglas? We have to help him stand and get him back to your house, do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Douglas said, putting a shoulder under his twin's arm while Tempy did the same on the other side, making sure to keep the weight off the boy's broken leg.
"You're being so brave for your brother, Douglas, I'm proud of you," Tempy said as they drew near to the boys' house.
"Thanks kindly, Miss," the boy murmured back. "Ma? Pa?"
A red-headed man and woman ran out of the house and toward the trio. "Douglas! What happened to Donald? Thank you so much, Miss!"
"'Twas nothing, truly," Tempy said as the father took the boy into his arms. "His leg's broken and he got a bit of a chill; I'll send for a doctor, if that's alright."
"Yes, please, thank you!" the mother exclaimed. Tempy nodded, turning and running back to the inn.
"Aunt Corrine, Uncle Oliver? The doctor needs to be sent over to Terry and Diana's," she said, breathlessly, clutching a stitch in her side.
"I'll go to him," Oliver said, grabbing a coat and going out the door.
"Now, let's us get you to bed, my dear niece; you must be dreadful tired after your adventures," Corrine murmured, leading Tempy upstairs to her room.
"Thank you, Aunt Corrine. I'll see you in the morning," Tempy murmured, smiling at her aunt before shutting the door. She was so tired at this point that she just lay down on the bed without taking her clothes off. This decision was one that Tempy regretted immediately the next morning when she awake to sore ribs.
"Good morning, Tempy, dear!" Corrine exclaimed as she bustled into Tempy's room bright and early the next morning, carrying breakfast on a platter. "Eat up! Connor's keen to be meeting you."
"Connor? That man from last night?" she asked sleepily, rubbing her eyes.
"Yes, dear. He wanted to thank you for your help finding those two boys."
Tempy sighed, sipping the tea and eating most of the porridge. Once she ate what she wanted, she got out of bed and changed into a dull, gray everyday dress. She smoothed her hair back into order, then went downstairs to see the man she had briefly met sitting at her uncle's bar, talking to her aunt and uncle.
"Good morning, Aunt Corrine and Uncle Oliver. Good morning, Mr. Connor," she said, curtsying to Connor.
"Please, just call me Connor, Miss Gray. I wanted to thank you for finding the boys last night. I know you must have been tired after your long trip here," the man said after an almost awkward moment of silence, standing and smiling slightly at Tempy.
"Please, call me Temperance and it was nothing, truly. I was happy to do it."
"You mentioned last night that your profession involved children?"
"Yes, I'm a teacher. In between positions, but I still do what I can to help with children."
"We don't currently have a school teacher or a school at all, but if we built it, would you be willing to fill that position?"
"I would be thrilled to take the position," Tempy said with a broad smile. "As long as I have a school to teach in and desks for the children to sit in, of course."
"We will start work on the school house immediately, Tempy," Connor said as he shook her hand warmly.
"Thank you, Connor," she said, smiling down at her feet.
She heard the man leave the bar and she looked up at her aunt and uncle, her grin mirrored on their faces. "You know the two boys you met last night and one more, small boy child are about all we have on the homestead, don't you, dear?"
"Parents may send their children here even if they are far away, Corinne," Oliver chided, smiling. "Our Tempy is quite the teacher after all."
Tempy laughed softly. "I think I'll go read outside...I've had enough of four walls, a floor and a ceiling," she said, going back upstairs to grab one of the many books she had brought with her. "I will be back for noon meal."
"Do be careful, dear, there are wolves in our woods," Aunt Corrine called as Tempy grabbed her cloak and went out the door.
*Connor POV*
Connor sat in the fork of a tree, his mind wandering back to the Inn he had just left and the young woman named Temperance who now resided within its walls. He hadn't gotten a very good look at her the night before as she had kept her head down and hood up, but when she came down stairs that morning, he had seen her heart-shaped face with her wide, gray blue eyes dominating one's attention. Her nose had been dainty and slightly upturned, her lips curved like a bow, her cheeks flushed with life. It had taken all he was to not stare and have a normal conversation with those eyes watching him.
He mentally shook himself; it wasn't like him to spend any time whatsoever thinking about a woman when he had other things to think about, things that should more readily take up his thoughts. So besotted with this woman was he that he could almost see her in his mind's eyes walking below him to take a seat on a stump with a book in her hands. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him that brought forth the image of Temperance, but the actual figure herself sitting below him, reading. That the object of his thoughts should so readily appear before him gave him the thought that he should speak to her; afterall, she would soon be the schoolmarm in the community he had built.
"Hello, Temperance," he said after jumping out of the tree. Rather than startling as he had expected of her, she merely looked up from the page she was reading, a small, measured smile curling her lips.
"Hello, Connor. Have I disturbed your private thoughts?" she asked, placing a scrap of ribbon between the pages of her book. "It seemed a quiet clearing or I'd have found another place to escape with Miss Flanders."
"No, no. It is a quiet clearing, as good a place as any for reading or thinking," Connor replied. "What are you reading?"
"Ah, The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders by Daniel Defoe. I don't really believe Mr. Defoe has ever actually spoken to a woman though, based on how he wrote the character of Miss Flanders," she said, her eyes on the book. "I am sorry, I tend to ramble when it comes to books."
"It is fine, it must be a good book if you have read it enough to come up with critiques," he replied, settling himself on the grass in front of her. "Could you read it to me?"
He might have laughed at her startled expression had he not truly wanted her to read. "Y-yes, of course," she murmured, looking down at her book. She flipped back to the beginning. "My true name is so well known in the records or registers at Newgate, and in the Old Bailey, and there are some things of such consequence still depending there..."
They sat like this for hours, Connor listening to her soft, lyrical voice bring the world of Moll Flanders to life, not stopping until Tempy glanced up at the sky and stood suddenly.
"Is something the matter?" asked he.
"I told my aunt I would be back by noon and now it is three hours past," she returned, searching her her ribbon bookmark. "I'm sorry to leave so suddenly."
"Do not worry, we will continue at a later date."
Her smile was one that would haunt Connor in his dreams, but he couldn't wait to see it again as he watched its owner scurry away through the woods back to the Inn. He watched until he could no longer see her, then stayed in that spot, remembering every precious word she said as she read.
As he began to go on his way back to the manor he was staying in, his thoughts turned to the task that, previous to the arrival of Miss Temperance Gray, had overtaken his thoughts entirely: the dismantlement of the Templar Order. Only two men remained for Connor to deal with: Charles Lee, a dastardly man whose only aim was to take control of the colonies, and Haytham Kenway, Connor's father. He tried to reason that if he killed Charles Lee first, he may not have to kill his father at all and the two could live in peace, but Achilles, his mentor, had told him it would never work, that Haytham would always look for a way to bring the Templar Order back. Though he was loathe to admit it, Connor knew this to be true.
He only hoped that whatever happened didn't affect his little community here. He had been surprised at how quickly the homestead had grown in the past decade, but pleased by it all the same. There were farmers, a carpenter, a hunter, a miner, two innkeepers, lumberers, a cooper, a tailor, a doctor, and even a parson, but never once had Connor even thought about needing a teacher for the children. That Miss Gray had been brought to the homestead at a most opportune time and that she was in need of a teaching position, had been fate deciding that a teacher was most definitely needed here.
People always seemed to come to the homestead just when they are needed and they always seem so happy to be there. Connor had always been coming and going and therefore never saw what the others did when they walked from house to house. The atmosphere surrounding the people in the small community was one of friendship and camaraderie and Connor found that he rather enjoyed the thought of people working together to make this small place better. Once all threat of the Templar Order had been removed, the homestead would be all the more safe.
He had been looking for a way to kill Charles Lee for the past two years, but had done so from the comfort of his home, keeping his head down and out of the line of fire. His father had always been a deciding factor because, despite his promise to Achilles, he truly did not want to kill the man. However, he did feel that the time was drawing nearer for him to forge and execute a plan for the assassination of Charles Lee.
Well? What do y'all think? Please R&R...it makes me happy to see what y'all think.
You are all so, so amazing and I hope you enjoy the chapters to come.