Charlotte peeked out of her bedroom window, noting that Aunt Catharine's ornately decorated carriage had been brought around in the driveway. She looked over at Sukey, who was fastening her own taupe woolen cape over her dress. Charlotte turned about, giving one last glance around the bedroom to be sure she hadn't forgotten anything. Looking once more in the mirror, she glanced at her charcoal grey traveling habit to be sure everything was in place. She checked the cuffs of the elegant, high necked jacket of velveteen with inverted box pleated skirt, shorter than, yet in emulation of the typically long over robes of her robes Anglaises et Francaises. The skirt beneath naturally matched, and was cut to walking length. Sukey had pinned in place a charming little black cocked hat, smaller than that a gentleman might wear, made to sit charmingly above the updo of curls Sukey had arranged at the back of Charlotte's head. She turned back to Sukey, smiling at her. Over Sukey's left arm was draped Charlotte's black capelet, should she become cold despite her warm habit, and a black fox fur collar she could drape around her neck and shoulders atop it. Fixing the stark white lace fichu at her neck where it protruded above the last few buttons and black braided trim of her jacket, Charlotte turned and set to her last task, putting on her matching black gloves, before nodding to Sukey that she was ready to depart.
As Charlotte descended the stairs, parting ways with Sukey when she left to take her own staircase, she noticed the servants of the house had lined the great hallway leading to the front doors as was customary when the residents of the house were departing for an extended amount of time. At the end of the line closest to the stair was Sadie, who Charlotte smiled at and embraced without second thought, squeezing her gently as the older woman put her strong arms around Charlotte and hugged in return, patting her back gently.
"Merry Christmas, Miss Charlotte. Safe journey," she said quietly.
Charlotte pulled away and held Sadie's hands in hers, memorizing her face for a moment.
"Goodbye, Sadie. Merry Christmas. We'll see you in three weeks."
As she made her way out the front door, Charlotte made eye contact with and nodded to the rest of the servants.
"Merry Christmas, Everyone!" she called from the threshold, receiving appreciative nods in return.
As Sukey said goodbye to her mother, she cradled her extra tight, and nearly blanched when her mother almost slipped but seemed to catch her mistake as she spoke, saying
"You mind your s-elf now."
"I will, mama," was all Sukey said. "Merry Christmas."
When Sukey joined Charlotte, who had waited to descend the front steps until she could be accompanied, Sukey noticed slight disappointment on her face. Walking a respectful distance behind Charlotte, she could yet hear her charge mutter "I suppose we're not riding together," and it was then Sukey noticed a second carriage parked behind the first. It was not ordinary for servants, especially those like Sukey in the role of slave, to ride in the carriage of their mistresses, but it was something for which Charlotte was frequently forgiven when traveling by herself. Now in the company of her aunt, she supposed that was not possible. Aunt Catharine's own servants were already seated in the second carriage, and so when her black Louis heels met the driveway, Charlotte again parted ways with Sukey, who joined the other two ladies.
Charlotte knew Sukey would have much to tell her upon their unpacking that evening. Over the many journeys Charlotte had taken throughout her lifetime, she had become aware of the amount of useful information that could be obtained in the process of conversations occurring servant to servant. In a busy, bustling house like Aunt Catharine's, there had been little time since their arrival for Sukey, Sadie and the other servants to speak with one another candidly, and Charlotte knew this ride to York City would provide ample opportunity for Sukey to obtain valuable household information. Information which she supposed could only help and not hinder their efforts in the Culper ring. She thought of her letter from her handler, which Sukey had discovered upon waking Charlotte in the morning, and had intelligently thought of hiding inside one of a pair of pockets she wasn't brining with her to York City. Folded into a tiny square, tucked in the very bottom of a large pocket, and buried deep inside the tall boy dresser in her bedroom, in a covert compartment, the likelihood of it being discovered was in fact not likely at all. Reading it before bed had committed some of his sentiments to memory, memories she'd conjure late at night in the darkness of her York City bedroom.
As she crunched across the fine gravel of the drive, Charlotte was greeted by a footman with a kind "Good Morning," an open door, and a gentle hand with which to steady herself as she placed her toes on the footplate and stepped up into the carriage. Moving about until she was comfortable, she noticed several warmers about the floor, and the relative warmth of the carriage itself. She stifled a laugh to herself as a sentiment of her brother Edward's regarding how cold the elderly always seemed to be resurfaced in her mind. He had not put it delicately, and Charlotte had to purse her lips to keep from laughing aloud. A sudden, dull throb had filled her chest then, a heavy weight that came on suddenly and seemed to shorten her breath. She missed them all, terribly.
When Aunt Catharine arrived ready to depart, she was ushered into the carriage with the usual amount of ceremony that accompanied her movements to and fro. As the carriage rolled away, Aunt Catharine chattered good naturedly about Lady Brightlea and her household, certain individuals of note who they were likely to encounter, and the more anticipated goings on in York City for the holiday social season. Charlotte attempted to keep the craning of her neck discreet as she sought a few last longing glances at the dock and the oak tree, her heart sinking as she thought on just how long she'd be away. She hoped her fellow Culpers wouldn't think better of asking her to help in the time she was gone. Keeping the conversation as politely as possible despite her distraction and relative disinterest, Charlotte was relieved when Aunt Catharine announced her intention to nap until their arrival at the Brookland Ferry. She was left then to her thoughts. Her brothers knew nothing of her movements. The thought frightened her. Then she turned her head to gaze out between the drawn back privacy curtains at the frigid winter ocean passing by the carriage window, and smiled to herself, thinking at least two members of the Continental Army knew of her whereabouts, which certainly must be better than no one knowing at all.
The Brookland Ferry, a frequent travel resource of Aunt Catharine's, brought both carriages over the Hudson River by late afternoon, and as the sun was setting over York City, Charlotte watched from the window as candles and lamps were lighted in the windows of homes and businesses and in the streets, casting a strange glow over the chilly little city as the carriage rumbled past. When at last they stopped at a large white home, aglow with candles and bedecked with ribbons, garlands and Christmas accoutrements, Catharine had straightened herself in preparation to disembark. It was then that a portly, jovial woman, accompanied by a bevy of servants who fluttered about her like hummingbirds about a large flower, appeared in the glow of the front door and hustled out in procession to welcome the lady's guests.
"Ohhh Caaathariiiinnne…" came the happy, lyric intonations of Lady Brightlea's voice. "Welcome!" She called from the top of the stairs, waiving in the general direction of the carriage windows.
Aunt Catharine sighed, shaking her head and chuckling to herself as one who truly loves a truly eccentric friend might, and looked up at Charlotte.
"Our hostess," she smiled. "Are you ready?"
Charlotte grinned. "Always."