Author's note: I know things are a bit different between the movie and the books, namely the agreement between Mr. Merriman and Ben concerning the breaking of Ben's apprenticeship but I thought that allowing Ben to join Washington's army at age 16 with the understanding that once the war was over Ben would return to finish his apprenticeship would make for a better story. So that is the timeline I have adopted. Everything else happens according to the books.
Also, I'm not Valerie Tripp so I won't be claiming any of these characters as mine.
To date, Benjamin Davidson had broken a total of two promises in his life. The first had been when he'd promised as a young boy of seven, that he would most certainly keep away from the ginger biscuits his mother had made. However, Ben had a sweet tooth and a particular fondness for ginger. So it transpired that when he'd been left alone with an entire tray loaded down with the delicious smelling cookies, several wound up in his stomach.
His broken promise had served to teach the young boy a lesson. He'd learned that sometimes he was told not to do things because they could result in him getting hurt. For his stomach most certainly hurt the entire rest of the day. He'd also learned that sometimes he'd been told not to do things because they could inconvenience other people. In the case of his mother, she'd been expecting a few of her lady friends over for tea and the ginger biscuits had been intended as a treat for them. In short, he'd learned that often, when elders told him not to do something, it often was for a very sensible reason and this deduction had shaped Benjamin Davidson into becoming a remarkably obedient youth.
His obedience hailed by his mother and father as the mark of a smart, trustworthy, and mature young lad had been a large part of the reason why Mr. Merriman had agreed to take Benjamin on as apprentice.
The second promise he broke was when he'd run away from the Merriman's to join General Washington's Army. He knew that, young as he was, he technically wasn't old enough to join any army, nor was the somewhat embarrassing amount of stubble his chin could barely produce enough to convince anyone that he was quite sixteen. But he also knew that he was tall for his age and that the Continentals were desperate for anyone old enough to hold a gun and brave enough not to run from the British. He knew that, like all things he'd been told not to do, having been told not to run off was for very sensible reasons. Running off meant the risk of getting caught and facing dishonor. Running off to join the Continentals in their fight meant the risk of intense physical maiming or worse, the loss of his life. And it meant inconvenience for the Merrimans who had come to rely heavily on Ben's help inside and outside of the store.
But Ben had rationalized all his reasons for running away against all the reasons he knew he shouldn't. The risk of dishonor he countered with his staunch belief in the Continentals' cause. Is it not, he asked himself, dishonorable to refrain from fighting for one's beliefs, should the need arise?The risk of maiming or death he countered again, with his conviction to the cause. What use is life when it is limited by such tyranny, he often recited to himself. But he found he could not justify his leaving the Merrimans so easily. He'd convinced himself that they would get along fine without him as they had prior to his coming, but he knew that the reason why they had taken him on as apprentice had been because they did need the extra help at the store. He knew that the help he'd offered the family, was, again, something they could do without, but he also knew Mrs. Merriman had come to rely on his assistance with the children.
Worst of all, they had come to think of him as family, and had treated him as such and he too had come to think of them as a second family. It was like lying to his own mother and father, and leaving their children without a word was like leaving his own brothers and sisters, something he'd been loathe to do once with his real family, and did not prove any easier with his adopted second family. Worst of all, was leaving their eldest daughter without a word, for to his surprise, she'd become his first friend in Williamsburg, and he knew she looked up to him much as a younger sister would look up to an older brother. He suspected that she would probably be angriest and most disappointed in him of all the Merrimans.
Which was why he'd been hesitant to seek her help when he'd gotten hurt. But Ben convinced himself that Felicity, being such a spirited, independent young girl, was quite the budding little patriot herself and would probably be thrilled he'd elected to join the Continentals at last. He also knew she loved secrets and would probably delight in another. It was by using this logic he'd managed to bring himself to put the note in the bird bottle for Felicity and he prayed she would be the one to find it.
When she'd first arrived, so convinced was he that she'd be pleased with him, he smiled in spite of himself. The smile quickly faded when he'd seen the look on her face. Hurt and disappointment, anger and resentment flooded her already very rosy features so much, the change to her usual sunny disposition was striking. But he'd held fast against her diatribes and pleaded with her to keep his whereabouts secret. She had grudgingly agreed and had helped him to leave, even running to his rescue when she'd learnt of his increased danger. It had been Felicity's actions toward him, her anger at him and her willingness to help that had finally convinced him of his foolishness and finally made him feel a remorse he could no longer quash with his longings for American independence. The Merrimans were a second family, they were his good friends, and he could no longer ignore the fact that he'd wronged them in his decision to run away.
But his return to the Merriman's had resulted in the relenting of Mr. Merriman, something Ben had never expected. Mr. Merriman agreed to allow Ben to join the army upon his turning sixteen, with the understanding that Ben was promising to return once the fighting was over and would complete his time as apprentice. Ben who'd just turned fifteen the week prior had felt elated, one more year!
To Felicity, it was like Ben had one year to live. He had one more year before her father would allow him to join the Continental Army and this she thought, surely meant he was never coming back. It was as though he would die the moment he would leave their home. Though she thought the war exciting, she'd realized it wasn't just about the militia mustering or about loud noises and men going off and getting to do adventurous things. It meant those men doing dangerous things and perhaps not coming back. She didn't like the idea of Ben not coming back. Besides, she'd reasoned once, Ben was quiet, surely he wouldn't like something as loud as war.
When she'd pointed this out to her mother, Mrs. Merriman had smiled sadly. "Felicity, I know Ben is your friend. He has grown dear to us all. But when he's old enough, your father's agreed to allow him to make his own decisions."
Disliking this answer, Felicity sought to appeal to her father. "Couldn't you just make him wait till the end of the apprenticeship like he was supposed to?" she'd asked.
"Felicity, surely this isn't about the change in our contract. What's this really about?"
"The war might be over by the time the contract ends," Felicity said quietly, her head bowed.
Understanding dawned on Mr. Merriman's countenance, for he'd always been able to pick up on his daughter's emotions fairly adeptly.
"Indeed," he said, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I do believe that idea is what lead him to run away in the first place."
"But father, don't you see? You can save him! You can make him stay -"
"I cannot," Mr. Merriman interjected. "I have already agreed to allow him to go. It would be dishonorable to break my promise to him."
"He broke a promise to you."
"One broken promise does not warrant another. Besides, you know as well as I do that he came back in the end, and that is what really matters."
Felicity fumed, "But-"
"Enough. Felicity, he came back. That's what matters. He'll come back again. I'm sure of it He is not one to break promises lightly. He'll come back to finish his learning and you can pester him again all day about Penny and Posie and complain to him all you want about your lessons."
Felicity wanted to laugh, for she knew her father was teasing her, but she couldn't. She looked away again. "Suppose he can't come back. Suppose he dies. What then?"
Her father sighed again. "Then we must pray his soul finds its way to a better place."
"I don't want him to find a better place. I want him to stay here."
Mr. Merriman smiled again. "Nobody stays here forever, Lissie."
"Nobody stays here forever," her father had said, and after Grandfather's death, Felicity found her mind repeating this thought over and over as winter began to melt into spring and the days began to inch closer to Ben's sixteenth birthday.
Where once the time for Ben to leave had seemed farther away than Felicity could fathom, now it was months away and the months were passing at an alarming rate. Still, Ben had voiced that his conviction held and that he would leave at the time he and Mr. Merriman had deemed appropriate.
Felicity began to take it upon herself to convince him to stay.
"If you leave," she began one day, as she accompanied him on another of his trips to a customer of her fathers, "You shan't have any of those ginger tea cakes mother makes. I hardly believe that those are standard soldier rations."
"We don't drink tea anymore."
Felicity rolled her eyes. "We drink hot chocolate."
"Then they ought to be more appropriately called 'hot chocolate cakes', don't you think?"
He winked and she couldn't help but giggle. "Then they ought to taste like hot chocolate."
"Tea cakes don't taste like tea."
"No they don't. Sometimes they taste like ginger though," she said, trying to get back to her point. "And you won't have any more if you go away."
Ben sighed and shifted the parcel he was carrying. "No I won't," he finally relented.
"And you won't have hot chocolate either, I daresay."
"You're probably right. But I don't need hot chocolate."
"You're missing the point."
"No, I think you are Lissie. There are more important things than hot chocolate and tea cakes . I think you know that. Why else would you have helped Penny the way you did? Why did you help me?"
"But you won't be saving any horses."
Ben smiled again. "No. But I might be helping us to have a better place to live."
"This is already a great place to live."
"You only say that because you're a child and you don't know any better."
Felicity was furious. "You only say that because you think it makes you sound like a grown up," she snapped. "Well it doesn't. It makes you sound like a self-important ass." And with that she stormed off.
Felicity's further attempts to get him to stay rarely ended better. Sometimes they would both simply go silent, other times Felicity would relent. Felicity storming off in a rage tended to be the most common result of the attempts and she grew more and more resentful toward him.
He would leave and never come back. He would... get lost and lose his memory. Or maybe he'd be taken prisoner. He'd get killed. Or he'd find a young girl who took his fancy and start his own family somewhere else. He wouldn't need their family anymore. Yes, that was it, she was sure of it. Though Ben was quiet, Felicity mused that he must be the passionate sort. After all, he was passionate about the patriot cause.
He'd meet the sister of a fellow soldier, perhaps they'd hide in their house and she would tend his wounds the way Felicity had. Only she'd be older than Felicity, probably a lovely thing and Ben would be smitten. Or perhaps he'd meet a camp follower, the daughter of an officer and her gentle touch would turn him away from ever returning to Williamsburg.
Felicity wasn't sure when or where he would meet this girl, but she was certain he would and they would never hear from him again. She became jealous of this girl who she knew, rationally, may or may not even exist at all anyway. She justified her jealousy and all her irrational surmising with the idea that it would be unfair to her father and unfair to her family for Ben to never return. But in her heart Felicity knew she was lying to herself, and she was glad she'd never voiced her fears to anyone else, lest they guess the real reason for all of her unwarranted jealousy.
For to her surprise, Felicity had discovered that she'd developed her first crush on her friend Ben.
The realization of Felicity's feelings for the young apprentice did nothing to alleviate her resentment. In fact, upon her realizing it, mere weeks before he was set to turn sixteen, Felicity's resentment increased tenfold.
Surely it was his fault she'd come to feel this way about him. But that wasn't right she knew. It wasn't his fault, and they'd never have become friends if he hadn't been so kind. Surely he knew her feelings for him and ought to put her straight? But this too was silly she knew, and in any case not at all what she wanted, though given their ages she knew it would be the only proper thing for him to do, should he become aware of her feelings. She knew too, that rationally, there was no way he could feel anything toward her other than friendship or perhaps a brotherly sort of affection. Though this realization also did nothing to quell her anger. It wasn't her fault she was so young. It wasn't her fault he was older. She knew that this too was no more his fault than it was hers but it angered her regardless and proved a more than worthy reason for her to justify her anger at the boy. She refused to think of him as a man. Not even a young one at that.
It was childish and all silliness she knew that littered her thoughts surrounding Ben, and this primarily was the reason why she'd tried to be civil when it came time for the Merriman family to say their goodbyes.
The day prior, Ben had turned sixteen and the Merrimans had prepared a special dinner party for him. It hadn't been much, but Ben had blushed at their generosity and the few presents the family had given him. Felicity had presented him with a large packet full of parchment, "for letter writing," she had said.
"Felicity, how thoughtful," Mrs. Merriman had commented. "I daresay it'll be hard to come across paper and I'm sure Ben's family will be worried and will be glad to hear from him when they can."
Felicity's cheeks had burned at her mother's words, for she'd meant for Ben to write the Merrimans. She felt embarrassed and selfish. Of course he would want to write his family as well. They were his real family after all. It was silly to think he'd want to write only the Merrimans.
"Of course, I'll write to you all as well," Ben had spoken up and Mrs. Merriman smiled at him.
"Such a kind young man you are," she'd said. "Do take care of yourself."
"I will," Ben had replied to both Mrs. Merriman's request he take care of himself and Mr. Merriman's the next day. He'd shaken hand with Mr. Merriman and received hugs from all the others.
Last to hug him had been Felicity, her face stony and a blotchy red from uncried tears and further resentment she was working hard to keep at bay in order to give him a proper goodbye.
But when he'd gathered her in his arms and told her, "You were my first friend in Williamsburg," she could no longer keep the tears from flooding over. "I'll write you all when I can," he continued. "Shush, little Lissie, don't fret. And be good for your mother and father."
It was the last sentence that really cut her. Little Lissie and be good, he'd said, like a parent telling a daughter what to do, not the request of a friend. It was not the request of a sweetheart, not that she'd expected anything like that, but still. She hadn't expected... that. She hadn't expected so cruel a reminder of how much older he was; how he wouldn't be dreaming of her while he was away, how they would never have the sort of parting one could expect between two young lovers and how she would never receive a single love letter from him. She' known none of this would never happen and that therefore her crush on him had simply been downright foolish. But knowing her feelings were pure foolishness didn't mean it hurt any less.
At once she'd flown into a rage, "I hate you, Benjamin Davidson!" she'd shouted while aiming a punch at his torso, acting she knew, more the part of a child than ever. But she didn't care. He was leaving and never coming back and she wasn't old enough for him to care and none of it would matter anyway. "I hate you!" she shouted again, trying to aim more punches at him, but her father had stepped in and managed to pull her away, her mother disapprovingly shouting, "Lissie!"
She knew she would be punished for her behavior. She knew she was being embarrassing and rude and horrible, but it didn't matter. Breaking free from her father's grip she launched herself across the walk and ran as fast as she could. She didn't bother to think about where she ought to go, nor did she bother to be careful not to muss her dress, she only wanted to run away and away and away because maybe if she ran fast enough she wouldn't be so embarrassed anymore and maybe if she ran far enough she'd find a place where nobody ever went to war and where nobody ever died and where silly crushes didn't matter. Because Ben was leaving and she hadn't had near enough time to grow up when he'd had only one year left to live.
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