Marcelline Essex rose early on a chilly January morning. She threw on her dressing gown quickly; the house was freezing and the carefully banked fire in her fireplace had gone out. After she'd impatiently run the service bell for Anna, her chamber maid, Marcelline proceeded to throw five dresses out of her wardrobe and finally decided on a suitable one. With Marcelline holding onto the bedpost, Anna laced her up quickly, placed a mink stole around her mistress' shoulders and relit the fire.
"Will you be doing your correspondences now in your chamber, Miss Marcelline?" Anna asked timidly, "or right after breakfast?"
"I'll take my breakfast in here," Marcelline replied, making herself comfortable at her desk. "Then I will go down to the Wharf for some shopping. Give me a list of what cook wants."
"Certainly, miss." Anna said dutifully, but was secretly annoyed by the fact that her mistress insisted on doing the daily errands because she thought aristocratic life was boring, "Oh and a letter from England came early this morning. And your aunt has already breakfasted and is in the drawing room. I believe she's started a new embroidery project today."
"Thank you, Anna." Marcelline took the letter and opened it, dreading the contents as she recognized the handwriting.
Dear Marcelline,
I write you with exciting news. I've conversed at length with a certain Col. Tavington. He needs a place to board his troops (and himself) while briefly staying in Boston before journeying back down south to subdue the rebel forces. I believe that Cornwallis has ordered him to do so; to keep him away from the action for reasons to which I am not privy. I've offered up our Beacon Hill home (and possibly our Charleston one if the need arises) for the Green Dragoons.
Only sincere hospitality is expected during their stay through the spring. You must make sure the officers have their fill of food and drink as they will be staying in the house. The rest of the cavalry will be staying in temporary housing on our grounds. I suggest you hold your rebellious tongue in the presence of His Majesty's troops. You know I am displeased with your staying in Massachusetts but you can at least be a good hostess. I am sure your mother would be proud if you do so.
Philip, George and I have been hunting fox here at the estate. There has not been much snow, which makes for a good hunt. We really wish you could join us and forget Massachusetts and reside in your true home of England. Things seem to be unraveling fast over there and yet you choose to keep yourself in danger. I hope Aunt Lucy is looking after you.
Please write, Marcelline. In spite of these conditions, I do wish to hear from you.
Your ever loving father.
Marcelline folded the letter back up and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. It shook her to the core that her relationship with her father was strained, especially because of the current political and military conditions in the American colonies. Marcelline loathed the idea of have actual redcoat soldiers in her house. They'd always had a distant relationship to begin with, being that Lord Essex was always travelling around the colonies and Caribbean as a merchant.
The second son in the wealthy, noble Essex family,his older brother had gotten the family estate and he was left to make his own fortune in the world. Lord Essex chose the American colonies wisely, namely the Massachusetts Bay colony in which to make his fortune. He soon found success with the trade of sugar, rum and molasses. With the money made from these goods, he built houses in both Philadelphia and Charleston. This was extremely rare during this timemany merchants limited themselves to their own colony but Lord Essex was a shrewd business man and because of his intercolonial dealings, he became one of the richest merchants in America. All of this business left little time for a daughter whose mother had died during childbirth.
But times were changing. Being a fierce loyalist, Lord Essex was vehemently against the revolution. At the same time his brother, Henry, passed away, leaving the Essex family estate to him due to the fact that he had no heirs himself. Jumping at the opportunity to return to England, (as he'd ultimately decided to do in spite of his brother's untimely death) Lord Essex and his two sons moved back promptly.
A light mid morning snow had begun to fall and Anna entered with breakfast and Cook's errand list.
"Anna," Marcelline sighed as she took three bites of a scone, "please let the entire household know that we will be quartering His Royal Majesty's Green Dragoons and that the guest rooms need to be cleaned. Change the linens and put new coals in for the warming pans."
"Yes, Miss."
Marcelline took the list: "I'll inform Aunt Lucy of the change in plans."
Anna curtseyed and began to clear away the uneaten food. Marcelline threw her cloak around her shoulders and darted downt the stairsher father had not mentioned when the Dragoons would be arriving so she had to act quickly.
The snow began blowing around as Marcelline reached the drawing room. She found Aunt Lucy by the large window that overlooked the back garden bundled up in her rocking chair doing some embroidery. The old woman was Lady Lucinda Essex, the aunt of Lord Charles Essex, Marcelline's father. She was an old maid whom was deemed the appropriate guardian for her headstrong niece during the tentative, transitional phase as Lord Essex slowly drained all New World assets in perparation for a permanent residence back in England. He was among the very few members of the nobility whom believed the war would not be won, yet he'd never voice his opinion in polite society.
Aunt Lucy was wonderfully oblivious that she never noticed Marcelline leaving every Wednesday afternoon to go down to the local tavern to listen to Boston's most ferocious patriots. Her blindness and deafness also contributed to the unheard of yet slightly concealed free reign Marcelline had over the house. Aunt Lucy always meant to keep the household together but it was Marcelline who ruled the roost. With her mob cap ever askew, Aunt Lucy maintained a strict schedule of morning cross stitch, afternoon quilting bees and nightly card games with the geriatric Boston elite.
"Oh! Marcelline!" She exclaimed, "and how does this morning find you?"
"Very well, dear aunt," Marcelline glided in with a plastered smile on her face, "Father just wrote with some exciting news. He's arranged for the Green Dragoons to be quartered here for a few months. I must go down to the Wharf to stock up on enough food and drink."
"Oh heavens, how wonderful!" The old woman adjusted her wire rimmed spectacles, "isn't that lovely?"
"Yes, dear aunt," Marcelline was already on her way out the door, "I shall be back by this afternoon for tea."
She didn't even wait for her aunt's response and Marcelline was off down the long lane toward the Long Wharf. Once there, she handed over a list to a nearby blacksmith's apprentice, gave him a tuppence and told him to get three of everything on the list and to meet her back at the Custom's House when the clock struck three. Every grocer, butcher and fish monger in Boston knew that if a blacksmith apprentice appeared in their booth or shop with a list including dried cranberries, leg of lamb and scrod that the cost would go to the Essex tab.
Meanwhile, Marcelline strolled around the streets, contemplating on whether or not she should buy the hat she'd seen in the milliner's window. She decided that she deserved a hat with some questionable times coming. As she stepped back out onto the street with her hood down, proudly displaying her new purchase, she heard her name:
"Miss Essex!"
"Good day, Mr. Hancock!"
"How are you today?" He asked, tipping his hat to her.
"Very well, and you?"
"Couldn't be better,"John smiled suavely, giving her a small wink; he was a very well known skirt chaser (and, consequently, a wealthy merchant who was one of Lord Essex's rivals). "I hear General Gates is recovering well from the Battle at Camden!"
"Wonderful news!" Marcelline cried, "how I wish I could tell you news that was just as fortunate!"
"What is the matter?" Mr. Hancock asked as they strolled around the streets nearby the Wharf.
"Under the orders of Lord Essex,"Marcelline sighed dramatically," I am to be hostess to His Majesty's Green Dragoons until the spring."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
"If you have any difficulties," Mr. Hancock took her hand concernedly, "you know whom to come to. We must stick together. It was good to see you but I must be off to see if my runner made it through the blockade with the order of rum I've been awaiting!"
"Of course, Mr. Hancock," Marcelline blushed at his touch, "I shall see you soon."
She walked over to the Customs House at three and the blacksmith's apprentice was waiting for her with many baskets and bundles.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" She asked, "take it to the Essex estate! Do you know where that is?"
"Yes, miss."
"Here is another tuppence to quicken your journey."
"Thank you, miss!"
Before the boy scampered off, Marcelline took a small pouch of dried cranberries to snack on during the walk home. Her pace was leisurely until the wind began to pick up and the snow came down harder. She was looking forward to some hot tea and then some hardy supper. Just as she opened the gate, she saw the blacksmith apprentice coming from her house.
"Oh miss!" he cried, "now I see why you needed so much food!"
Marcelline looked at him quizzically before breaking into a run toward her front door. As she neared the house, the snow seemed to part, showing about thirty men on horseback who had gathered at the front step. Her heart sank for she'd not mentally prepared for this. Aunt Lucy, on the other hand, was very enthusiastic, chatting with the soldiers. Some of the younger, newer dragoons were relieved to come in contact with such a cheery, maternal figure after spending all of their time with Col. William Tavington, the most brutal of all soldiers in the British military.
As Marcelline made it to the crowd, many turned to greet her, relieved at her presence for an entirely different reason.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen,"she smiled broadly as the cold and her disenchantment would allow, "welcome to the Boston Essex estate. I hope that I can make your stay here as comfortable as possible."
Only when she called for Ben, the stablehand to take the horses did Marcelline release the fierce grip she had on the cranberry bag.
"Please gentlemen," Aunt Lucy beamed,"come in and warm yourself by the fire. You've arrived just in time for tea and Cook is preparing a wonderous turkey for tonight's supper."
The dragoons filed into the house and chose the extravagant comfort of the drawing room and all made themselves comfortable after a month and a half of traveling up from South Carolina by sea. Colonel Tavington's tactics were deemed out of line with how Cornwallis intended to conduct the war and drove him northward to cool off.
"Now," Marcelline entered the house, staying in the doorway of the drawing room, "which of you is Col. Tavington?"
"I am." A voice came from behind her.
A very tall man with piercing blue eyes entered the house. The sound his boots made on the pine floors seemed to echo in Marcelline's ears.
"Excuse me for my tardiness," he said stonily, clearly not caring, " I was tending to some things in the city."
He was, in fact, sending a desperate message to Lord Cornwallis notifying him of their arrival and asking him to turn right back around.
"Good afternoon, Col. Tavington," Marcelline managed to say, as his presence made her very nervous, "my name is"
"Marcelline Essex, yes, I know who you are." He brushed past her and got a dragoon out of a seat so that he could sit down by the fire, "I need some tea."
"Certainly," Marcelline's voice shook but she could not control it. She did not like this man coming into her house.
Some tea was served and Aunt Lucy struck up some friendly and inane conversation with the dragoons. But their conversation was cut short as Col. Tavington barked orders for setting up their temporary housing in the front lawn of the house. The faces of the men fell as they returned their tea cups to Sullivan, the butler and ventured out into the snowy dusk.
Just as Marcelline was about to open her mouth to lay down some ground rules, Col. Tavington had beaten her to it.
"We'll be coming in and out as we please," he stated, not looking at her as he warmed his hands and took off his hat, "and using your horses if we need to"
"If I may suggest, Col," Marcelline strutted towards him and took a breath, "you may want to stay close to the house at hight and probably in general, because Boston is extremely patrioticthey will tell you themselves. I assume without a doubt you were met with some animosity as you rode into the city."
"I will decide what is best for my men."
"C-certainly." She forced herself to sit down on her chaise lounge, "how was your journey?"
"Arduous and tiresome," he sighed, still not bothering to look at her, "But your house looks quite luxurious. I expect to have one just like it in Ohio as soon as this blasted war is over with."
"Uh, thank you, Col," Marcelline had meanwhile gone over to the liquor tray and poured herself a glass of port. She gulped the drink down, "my father also owns two other houses in Philadelphia and Charleston but they are vacant being that my aunt and I are here and my brothers and father are in England..."
"Your brothers and father are the smart ones then," he remarked snidely, "and here you are, staying in the most rebellious city in these colonieslike you said yourself. everything, of course, will be fine once we subdue these animals."
Marcelline stared at him from behind, aghast at his attitude. The room was silent.
"I do not think," she fumed softly, "that your insolence is acceptable when I offer you my hospitality."
"You are not the one," he fired back and turned quickly in his chair to face her, "who has offered your house. It was your father. And I'll be damned if I'm going to put up with the fact that in four months time I'm going to have to take you with us when we move back down to South Carolina to finish off the rebels."
"I...do not understand..."
"Your father," Col Tavington spat, "sent me a letter saying that in return for his hospitality, I'd take you to safer ground, namely Middleton Place in South Carolina. Your father apparently wants you to stay there until you permanently move back to England."
Marcelline was silent with shock. Then only said, "not "move back' but move there for the first time. I've never been to England. This is a surprise to me. I was unaware that my father had arranged all of this without my knowledge."
"No matter," Col sighed tiredly, sipping his tea, "you shall be unfortunately accompanying the Green Dragoons across these colonies to South Carolina. Believe me, Miss Essex, I do not look forward to it."
His tone was seeped in disgust for her very presence and she resented it. Marcelline was aching with frightened fury. All she wanted to do was stay in her beloved Boston.