Chapter 12:
"What, you know them all, trust them all?" Sackett asked Benjamin Tallmadge, through it sounded more like a statement than a question.
The two men stand outside in the lightly falling snow by a small campfire behind a covered cart filled with supplies.
"We all grew up together," Ben answered, kicking the dirt that surrounded the campfire, and avoiding looking in the direction where Lillian is tending to a sick soldier outside an infirmary tent. He practically rung Caleb's neck last night after he read the contents of her letter—his letter! It turned out he was framed by his friend Caleb, for the most inane reason.
"CALEB!" Benjamin shouted, breathing heavily, face puckered red.
"Yes Tall-boy? The boys are asleep all around us I wouldn't stir them—" Caleb felt hands around his neck suffocate him as he was pulled into his friend's tent and thrown to the cold, sloppy ground roughly.
"Oi- what are you doing?!" Caleb raised his voice, shoving Ben in the gut with strength that had the Captain stumble backwards, and clench his stomach with a hiss, but he regained his position above his friend holding him down and gripping his neck and hands pinned to his side.
"That's my question to you! What were you thinking when you sent that provocative and inappropriate letter to Miss Lillian WASHINGTON?!"
Caleb froze, in deep thought, before breaking into a foolish smile, "What? You're going to sock it to my face?"
"Agh!" Ben let go of his friend's neck with a grunt, and backed off of him, standing up only to fall onto his cot, feeling a bruise begin to form on his stomach where Caleb shoved him. "Oh-Oh I should sock it to you Caleb! Do you know how upset- embarrassed I am? How upset she must've been and still is? I didn't even write it but she believes I did!"
"Of course she does because you signed it," Caleb states the obvious casually.
Ben glares heatedly, "Tricked me into signing it! Answer my question, what were you thinking?"
Caleb barked out laughter, standing up and brushing himself off seeing the crumbled letter on the desk and his horrible handwriting glistening in the little candlelight, "Why, I was reconnecting you with a woman of your past. How come you never told me about her? Afraid I'd show you up and take her away? You can't keep secrets from me Benny, especially women."
Ben's eyes are as wide as saucers, "Where did you get that idea—oh the Latin paper! I only translated it, I never, NEVER, met her in my life, nor did I attain any affection towards her."
"A good looking lass like that? I'm beginning to think you have no attraction to the opposite sex, I'm worried for you now."
"Caleb," Ben warns, breathing hitching, feeling the anger boil in him. "She is a lady; no tavern wench like you'd pick up in your voyages and trekking. She is also Washington's daughter and- and she has a part to play in our espionage."
Caleb's smile drops, "What are you saying; she's more important of a person than what she already is?"
"Yes she is important," Ben looks at him mordantly. "And I talked with her during the meeting with General Scott, Mr. Sackett, and the Commander and Chief. She was watching me like a hawk the entire time, judging me- now I know why she was. She thinks me a nasty, low-life bastard!"
"You are not that Ben, far from it and God above knows it, and I apologize for what I'd done," Caleb sighs, feeling the guilt rise in him.
"Is this really you? Apologizing to me?" Ben smirked before licking his dry lips, and bleeding lower lip from biting it out of anger. "You're going with me tomorrow to talk to her, and you'll apologize to her."
"Of course, I accept full responsibility for my actions. I was only trying to help you out you looked stressed that day, and then I sifted through your papers and found that gold, communicating with the Virginia Gold herself," Caleb grins. "Why did you carry it with you?"
"In case a doctor ever had to heal me I suppose, Miss Lillian's theory has no flaws and seems right to not bloodlet' anymore blood than what has been lost, amongst many other possible facts," Benjamin answered. "And I don't need a woman to take away my stress, unlike you."
"You'll learn that one day, women keep you stress-free and give you all the pleasure you can dream of," Caleb smiles at his friend.
Benjamin gives a huff of laughter, "How ironic, I heard it's the exact opposite from the married men in this camp."
"Who says you have to get married to feel ultimate pleasure?"
"God, the Bible, morals—"
"Yeah I know," Caleb bats his hand, wanting to forget this part of the conversation. "Anyway do you really think Lillian Washington is George's relative?" Caleb asked, sitting on a stool in his friend's tent while Ben sat at his desk shuffling through a stack of papers by candlelight, both fully recovered from their little brawl and argument.
"Of course not. A woman who looks like that couldn't be related to him," Ben said as he distractedly re-read a letter. "And I mean that in the kindest way possible, also, she is adopted."
Caleb let out a low whistle at this new fact, "Sounds like you've taken a shining to her."
"I merely noticed, as any good spy leader would, that she has a lovely…personage. Although I think she's also playing at being the meek helpmeet for her reputation. Something in her eyes—she's alert and poised, prepared, but whether she's hiding or hunting, I don't know." Ben stared at the book Mr. Sackett gave him in front of him before shaking his head slightly and refocusing. Hunting… That's what he saw in the corners of her eyes. She has plans for something.
He shakes his head slightly, remembering his thoughts from last night as he took a chance to glance at the tent Lillian was near, in casual riding clothes and boots. She was currently pouring medicine onto a spoon and smiling at the man she was giving it to, he must've made a joke.
"Miss Lillian! Come over when you get the chance!" Mr. Sackett called over his shoulder to the woman who quickly looked up. The old man must've saw his point of focus causing him to call her over, and he immediately regrets looking up feeling ashamed of 'his' letter.
She nodded her head from afar, wiping her hands on the sides of her skirts, and called back, "Yes sir."
"You can't hide away from her Captain. Whatever you wrote her, she didn't like it," Mr. Sackett turns back to Ben with a whisper, and he lets out a long sigh.
"I didn't write it, my courier did, he thought it'd be comical," he settled for saying after pacing along the side of the cart they were currently by.
Ben had been up nearly the entire night, studying and taking notes out of Sackett's codebook and somehow had fallen asleep on the desk. Morning had found pieces of parchment stuck to the side of his face as the sounds of Sackett doing whatever he did in the morning caused the noise that woke him up. Now though, with the crisp cold mid-morning air and sun invigorating him, he found himself briefly surveying the ground before him. The light coating of snow on the cold, hard ground did nothing to deter the hardier campfires that dotted the camp. Even the tiny splash of dirt that managed to get caught in the campfire merely caused a small hiss that sounded more like a displeased possum than something menacing. Still, he ceased his actions and returned his attention to Sackett's boiling pot of water that contained a single egg.
"That is what they all say. I suggest you and she begin communicating if you wish to keep up this notion of a spy chain, and "combining" as you so phrased it," Mr. Sackett said rubbing his gloved hands together out of coldness.
"I'll talk to her, I have it all planned out, sir," Ben watches Lillian walk towards them in her sleek, sheathe blue dress bustled in the back into a bow with her dark purple cloak wrapped around her with a fur hood, making her already big brown eyes stand out. The snow blowing around her only made her look like a sweet, yet stately fawn, hiding in her mother's fur.
"Sorry for the wait, I had a sick patient," Lillian came up to the wagon, walking past Benjamin with a curt nod, and going to prop herself up on the open back of the cart, a lock of her light brown hair looking dark under the cloudy snowy sky, falling out of its half-up-half-down do and framing her face.
Mr. Sackett laughs, "Yes make yourself comfortable, it won't be a long chat though. I just needed both of my handlers in this pre-meeting. So childhood friends for your chain," Sacket murmured in continuation of his previous conversation with Ben, though Ben was not sure that he heard admiration in the tone of the man's voice. "Fascinating. Wouldn't have thought to try that."
Lillian let out a small giggle, "Me neither." Mr. Sackett shared a light chuckle with her as he stirred the small boiling pot.
"It wasn't exactly planned," he admitted, unsure if the praise was warranted.
"Don't tell anyone that! Don't tell anyone else Mr. Woodhull's name." The older man plucked the egg out with a spoon before rubbing it with a towel in hand. He then placed the towel that had been used to dry the shell of the egg before reaching for a saucer that contained some liquid and a small sharpened branch within it. "Time to gift Mr. Woodhull an alias." As Sackett began to scrawl something on the egg, he continued to say, "One by which other agents shall know him as."
Ben frowned as he thought he misheard Sackett and asked, "I'm sorry, the other agents?"
He received a grunt of affirmation as his answer before Sackett said, "Our plans for your farmer are needed to nurture the seed that I have planted for the last year and a half. One of them is sprouting right now – right under the enemy's nose."
Lillian's eyes widened, "You have a British officer as well."
Sackett hums in agreement, "That I do, but at least this man can be a confirmed patriot. I spoke to your father earlier about your British friend, Baker, and how it is beginning to look like he is a true redcoat."
"Perhaps he is, but he hasn't stopped writing me and giving me correct intelligence," she responds looking down at her hands when Sackett mentioned her friend's name. "I attain some trust towards him somehow, and as I informed you yesterday trust is hard to come by from me."
"Which is why I do not doubt him as your father is, and I trust you and your judgement, Miss Lillian," Sackett told her honestly.
He doubts him? Lillian thinks. I'm surprised he doesn't doubt me as well then.
Ben, meanwhile, pressed his lips together as he realized the implications of Sackett's shrewd plan. He couldn't risk his friends' lives; especially with what Sackett had implied was happening. "I'm sorry, but this is not how it's going to work. You see, Abe...he's a very cautious man. He won't meet with anybody he doesn't already know."
There was also the matter that Anna was involved. He could not risk his friends' lives, especially since they were civilian.
"He'll have to," Sackett insisted, as he held the egg to the fire for a few moments before removing it and blowing on the shell.
"No, he won't," Ben argued. "He'll quit, is what he'll do." Lillian's ears perking at his defending tone, a tone she admires in men. She inwardly shakes her head again and dismisses that thought on admiring his tone.
"I thought he was your friend," Sackett stated, rubbing the shell of the egg on the sleeve of his coat.
"Yes, which is exactly why he trusts me to protect him."
Sackett made a noise of agreement before handing him the egg, saying, "Only that which is concealed is protected. We can even conceal his name." As Ben examined the egg, looking for the writing that he had clearly seen etched on moment ago, Sackett continued to say, "Luckily for you, I am a master in the art of concealment."
Ben cracked the hard-boiled egg open and peeled the shell off, feeling Lillian's eyes on him and his hands holding the egg. However, as he turned the egg, he saw the writing to which Sackett had scrawled upon earlier. [Mr. W.] it said. Glancing up, he saw the shrewd look pass over the older man's features before disappearing into the depths of a neutral, if not indifferent expression. He had a feeling that Sackett had just silently evaluated him for some task or another, but what it was, he didn't know and wasn't sure if it would be answered.
The mumbles of a light voice in departure caught his ears as he saw Lillian walk away from Mr. Sackett towards the cluster of tents.
"Miss Lillian!" Ben calls after her dropping the egg in the snow in the process and stepping on it to ensure it's unreadable and out of sight. Lillian was walking away quickly as she was called over by a soldier in front of the infirmary, almost glad that she was given reason to be away from the two men.
"Yes, Captain?" She turned her head only to look at him, pausing in her walking. "If it is about our notion of a chain than it can wait, I have someone borderline death waiting for me to save them."
"It isn't about our notion," he made sure to say it hushed just as she had, with ears all around them. "It is about my letter to you, if you will hear me out and allow me to explain."
He watched her slowly turn around to face him completely, and she steps closer to him to where it was an arm's length.
"Must it be discussed out here?"
"I will make no scene out of it, my lady. It will be quick," Ben promises with pleading blue eyes.
"I'm listening."
"First," he expresses, blinking a couple times and fighting the heatedness on the back of his neck, "I apologize for the ill-written and inappropriate words it was not in my place or good mind to write to you as so."
She only stared up at him with eyes of fury and hurt, thinking if this was the best he could do at apologizing.
"Second," he adds, glancing to his left at a bearded man approaching in a wide brimmed hat and rugged, dirty attire that hasn't been washed in days… maybe weeks. "I did not write the letter, my friend did, forging my name in the process."
In that instant, her flaming fury left her eyes, replaced with shrewdness and curiosity.
Benjamin straightened his shoulders seeing her change in temperament, "Miss Lillian, this is Caleb Brewster, also my courier in our ring, who purposely wrote the shameful letter to you posing as myself, which I must say I am not such a man to think or even write in such crudeness."
Caleb tilts his hat as he bowed his head with a serious frown, "It's true, he is no such man. In every way he is respectable. I only wrote to you in his place because I came across your name in a document, thinking he was hiding a woman of his past from me- because he shows no interest in women much, you see?-"
She looked over at the Captain with a small smirk who had his eyes shut with red cheeks.
Caleb grinned at her small smile from his side comment, but he lost the smile as soon as she looked back at him with guarded eyes, "I only wanted to reestablish whatever relationship he had with you, which he informed me there was none to begin with. But, after our talk last night," he clapped Benjamin on the shoulder good-naturedly, causing Ben to look at his friend with a raised brow and an impressed look because of his sincere words, "I learned he needs no woman with my help. At least for now. And I express my deepest apologies for insulting your honor and causing you any offense to yourself or family name."
Lillian absorbed his words quietly before shifting her feet, "It does explain the horrible handwriting mixed with the finely written signature that has seen well practice. I've had my suspicions on that matter when I first read it, but the words seemed too honestly written."
"You are a beautiful lady, Miss Lillian, but half of what I said- the crudely written areas- can be proved false because I haven't seen or met you until this day."
She looks at him with a less guarded look now, seeing he is a jovial person, meant no ill-will or offense, and he apologized himself, and complimented her appropriately- though he could have not complimented her. It made her uncomfortable that there are those rumors about her looks going around camp.
"Mr. Brewster your words in your letter were taken offensively and I was hurt that any man would have the braveries to write to me in that manner, even Captain Tallmadge, here," she shifts her eyes to Benjamin's who looks into hers unwittingly. "When I met Nathan Hale he spoke of you being a true gentleman and had high hopes of becoming a man like you. As you can imagine, reading that letter, it left me questioning myself, Mr. Hale, and the world."
"I can imagine, and it isn't a lovely sight to picture a lady as you so distressed. I'd rather not imagine it anymore, nor Caleb here," Benjamin says with understanding lacing his every word. "Nor any other man in this camp will harbor such thoughts of you in a crude manner. I will see to it you are respected in every way for the duration of your time here and future stays, even when you're not here, you have my word."
"Ben, even I have to admit that that is close to nigh impossible, men are—there are many in this camp who aren't 'good.' You can't change a man's ways and mind like that," Caleb inputs, editing his use of words in front of a woman.
"Then I can do my best to, and if you will allow me Miss Lillian, may I ask you give me another chance, and in proving to you that I am a moral gentleman," Ben looks back to her, who is looking at him and Caleb thoughtfully before bowing her head.
"Yes you may, Captain, and do your best to not fail me, you have a lot to amount up to in my eyes. And you, Mr. Brewster, I forgive you, maybe you can do the same as he. Now please excuse me a patient needs me urgently, they've been waiting long enough. I shall see you at the next meeting," she says before briskly walking away to the infirmary tent where there is loud coughing and spluttering, and the two men are left standing right where she left them, eyes following her every step, until she disappeared into the loud tent causing them to cringe.
"Do your best to not fail me, you have a lot to amount up to.' Well, I failed that challenge just now, maybe she can curve it once for me, the beard makes everyone pity and have second-thoughts," Caleb says with a smirk, moving his hands in the shape of an hourglass in gesturing to her figure, ignoring the glare of his friend who soon smirks too.
"You can too be a gentleman, I've seen you sweep a woman off her feet with your good charms," Ben says.
"Yeah, but that's all an act, sorry to ruin that pleasant mirage in your head."
"Shut it Caleb," Ben shoves his friend in the side, shaking his head before making his way back to his tent with Caleb in tow. "She forgave you; you can go on your merry way now until I call for you about what the meeting decides."
"Wait, but she didn't forgive you, the man in question," Caleb said with almost too much enthusiasm and Ben stopped in his tracks.
"She did too!"
"No, you were told to not fail her and now that you gave her your 'honorary dashing Tallmadge word,' you have to prove you are who Nathan Hale told her, a true gentleman who he hopes to be. That didn't sound one bit like him, if anything he wanted to be like me, who doesn't?"
"Me, that is if I am to make myself blameless in Miss Lillian's eyes," Ben frowns as he walks into his tent and immediately looks into his mirror to straighten his necktie, waistcoat, and overcoat.
Caleb shuts the tent flap so they can speak more privately, "Let's ponder this though: if Lillian is George's adopted daughter, who is she? And why is she involving herself in man's work?"
"I don't know that yet," Ben said, folding papers and putting them in a satchel, yawning at the late hours of night and eyeing with distaste at the book Sackett had given him, but he picks it up with interest remembering why he is here.
"You are the spy leader—isn't it your duty to get to know her better? She is a part of our espionage is she not?" Caleb leaned forward, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He stroked his beard, waiting for Ben to answer.
"In case you've forgotten, friend, we're in the midst of a war. I will learn why she is truly here soon enough if we are to- well, try to combine our chains."
"Is that an innuendo I just heard, Tallboy?"
"No!" Ben squints his eyes and throws a well of sealed ink at his friend who catches it with a grin.
"There's a time for war, a time for love—as your father preaches."
"No time for love." Ben shook his head resolutely, but a twinge of longing and regret crackled somewhere deep in his chest like the papers he sifted through.
"Not even a quick tryst in a haystack?"
Ben gave him a warning look, again.
"Right, right. You're a reverend's son, piously waiting for your soulmate."
"I'm a soldier at the moment, Caleb. Besides, it would be dangerous for a woman to be associated with me right now." Ben sat in thought for a moment before adding, "And Miss Lillian could be a dangerous woman with whom to associate." Ben breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to streamline his thoughts. His chest harbored a whirlwind of emotions—which was unlike him. He was typically focused, disciplined, and for some reason, that was difficult to do when a certain lovely face with knowing eyes kept sweeping through his thoughts like a highwayman by night. 'Miss Lillian—who are you? And what secrets do you harbor?'
"I trust you on this, but just steer clear on that decision of combing our chains," Caleb says as he makes his way out to leave his friend to his paperwork, but no before setting the inkwell back on the desk, jokingly patting the top of it like a dog to make sure it stays in place.
"Believe me, I am. There are pros and cons to everything so far," Benjamin trails off into thought, and sighing with eyes shut on what will transpire tonight.
Clearly Washington was intensely keen on exploring the idea of a spy chain, otherwise, he wouldn't have completely ignored General Scott's request for a court-martial. Somewhere within Captain Benjamin Tallmadge, there was a heavy sigh of relief for the stay of court-martial, but also a storm of anxiety brewing for what was currently being discussed. He saw the merits of what Washington wanted, but as the sun continued to set and cast an orange-gold glow into the house, he was starting to realize just how futile the spy chain would be.
Trust.
That was the key to everything, and with the lack of confidence from not only from Scott, but also Sackett, and surprisingly from Washington – why wouldn't he tell him how Abe's name became known to him – this furtive notion of a spy chain was doomed. At least Lillian seemed to share the confidence he had, taking it upon herself to help win the war single-handedly. Christ on a pony, she doesn't need to end up like Nathan Hale, he grimaces at the thought of the young woman being sentenced to hanging- avoiding the thoughts of her being hung... or shot. She needs more people around her, friends. But trust is hard to come by for her, she stated.
Picking up the tin cup of coffee, fresher than yesterday's, he took a sip and bit back the same flicker of distaste from appearing on his face as the long-cold, bitter brew sunk down into his stomach. Scott and Sackett were currently engaged in a rather heated discussion once more about civilians within the chain and how they would be a liability if – 'when' Scott had emphasized – they were ever caught.
Lillian walked in mid-argument, hair in disarray falling loosely over her shoulders, and splatters of blood on her gloves and front of her dress, particularly the ends of her cloak where she wiped her fingers from dealing with a patient.
All three men turned to her with wide eyes in alarm.
"What?" She asked feeling their eyes on her as she stopped in front of the room they were in, and she took off her gloves carefully, and turning them inside out.
"You're bloody," Scott professed evidently.
"Bloody brilliant, yes, I saved the man's life," she says earning a quirk of a smile from Benjamin and Sackett, but Sackett cleared his throat.
"No one assaulted you then?" Scott breathed out, ignoring her slight wit.
"No sir, I would've screamed loud enough for the entire world to hear to come rescue me," she answers honestly.
"By your… tainted attire, it doesn't look like he survived the practice," Sackett slowly says trying to find the right words.
"Oh, this wasn't- it's not all his blood. Some is from someone with a nose-bleed, and some is mine; a patient broke skin grabbing my arm when I pulled an old bullet out of his leg."
"Who?!" Benjamin stood from his chair, asking in a loud, angered hiss, making Sackett choke on his walnuts, and from her claim. "He will be punished for striking you that goes against our conduct in this camp, especially during this time of war."
Lillian made a mental note to see when Sackett wasn't eating nuts as she looked at the Captain with new eyes, remembering his apology, and deciding to pretend 'his' letter never happened. His eyes are blue flames, filled with a determinedness and rage. Beautiful eyes, the kind one can get lost in, and she guessed she did.
She snapped out of her gazing, luckily, and fighting back a blush from not being the perfect and poised lady in this moment. The men didn't notice as they were too concerned about the blood on her still and the patient who 'striked' her.
"You knew what you were signing up for when you went to study this in college?" Sackett interestedly asked with a soft tone as he came over with a handkerchief to temporarily wrap around her arm.
"Yes sir, I read the fine print. Thank you, you don't have to I'm about to go to my quarters to put—"
"Just to give a break for our eyes, we do not wish to see this since we see it quite often already. On a lady it still isn't a convivial sight," he raises a brow like her father would. Oh her father, she remembered, who doesn't know, yet. At least since its winter she'll have her long-sleeved night gown on.
"Of course." She then looked towards the Captain, who was staring at her demandingly still, waiting for her response to his question on who striked her. "Thank you for your concern, Captain Tallmadge, but I can assure you all this is a regular happening with patients. I've had a patient cut my hand with my own knife before from the pain they felt during a surgery. I will be fine, it won't scar, and he didn't mean it," she says putting her hand on her now partly covered arm where there are the signs of fingernails dug into skin and little marks of blood in said imprints.
She saw him swallow thickly and his eyes grow dark, "There is such a thing as self-control, my lady. Even I would think twice before harming you if I were in such pain. It must've been excruciating for him then," Benjamin narrowed his eyes at the hand imprint on her lower arm with disgust.
"Yes it was. A rusty bullet wedged in between bone and muscle, I'm surprised the rust didn't kill him, yet. He may have some months left I'm afraid to say," she says feeling her chest constrict thinking of the injured patient, Abbott, one of the soldiers who escorted her mother back home earlier in the year.
"Who is he?" Benjamin asked with finality in his tone, she having to blink to make sure this is still the young officer who blushed in her presence earlier during his apologies.
"He is someone else who doesn't deserve to be taken away from this world. Excuse me but I must clean myself up before our final meeting. Don't even bother taking it up with my father because I'll be telling him in due time," she bows her head and makes her way to the staircase, feeling all three pairs of eyes follow her up, and Scott going to the foot of the staircase to make sure she didn't trip and fall.
"She's mad," Scott exclaimed once he heard her door shut with a click.
Maddeningly confusing Ben can only think as he pulled his chair back with no care and sat in it, elbows on the table leaning his face into his hands. It turns out, his thought was spoken aloud causing Sackett to chuckle.
"I couldn't agree more, Captain, and we'll get to the bottom of it, why she is. But we must tread gently, the waters are deep."
Scott crosses back into the room, and returns to his seat with a dragged out sigh, "What are you talking about now?"
General Washington's abrupt entrance into the house was unexpected, but Ben supposed that he should have expected it. The three of them; Lillian returning in a clean, plain floral dress with covered arms taking her seat at her end spot at the table, reconvened for the presentation of debate results, stood up, waiting for their commander to acknowledge his readiness for their reports. As Washington removed his cloak with a slight flourished parting of his hands, one of his guards took it and quickly left.
Washington turned to face them, and quietly said, "General, have we come to a consensus?"
"Your Excellency," Scott began, "we believe that traditional reconnaissance is the way forward, for it depends on as little variable as possible who would be trusted to carry out and follow orders."
Ben saw Washington's sharp eyes flick over to him as Washington asked, "Captain, what say you?"
As much as he wanted to advocate Sackett's plans, he knew that it was impossible, and it all boiled down to what that one thought that had crossed his mind earlier yesterday. "I...I concur with the general, sir," he admitted. Not surprisingly, he heard Sackett 'hmph' in indignation. "The chain of agents," he continued, determined to ensure that Washington knew why he was saying what he was saying for he had a gut feeling that this would be his only opportunity to make his opinions known with little consequence. "It requires trust, and in that resource, I'm afraid that we find ourselves lacking."
"You're speaking now of your men on Long Island?" Washington asked.
"No sir, I'm speaking of the men in this room," he said, feeling bolder than he had been in a while. "And woman," he added looking towards Lillian who straightened in her chair.
His words were received with a shrewd look that briefly graced Washington's face, while Scott merely gave him a puzzled look. "Sir, for a conspiracy like this one to function, we would be needing to keep secrets from the enemy, from congress, even from our own army. This would require absolute trust amongst the secret-keepers and yet General Scott here does not trust me or my judgment. Mr. Sackett here mistrusts my experience, much as I mistrust his attitude for the lives of the agents in the field."
He paused for a moment before glancing up at Washington, hoping that his next words would not reinstate the court-martial that he was supposed to have been given. "Your daughter mistrusts my judgements and belief on combining our spy chains, and You, sir, you know the name Abraham Woodhull, and yet you will not disclose the source of your knowing. Apparently, you do not trust me either. Therefore, I cannot trust any success of a chain that we might build here today."
He saw Sackett shake his head negative, as if either agreeing or disagreeing with his assessment – he couldn't tell. However, it seemed that Washington valued Sackett's opinion quite highly for he said, "Then let me speak with Captain Tallmadge alone."
The room was silent after his words.
"Please accompany me, Captain."
As Washington left the room, with his guard somehow already at the entrance with his cloak ready, Ben followed the general out and into a lightly brewing snowstorm. He saw Washington pause on the ends of the steps and approached, half-surprised that as soon as he was paced to the side of the general, Washington resumed his walk. Side-by-side they traversed, through the fresh snow rapidly coating the ground, and though it was bitterly cold, Ben did not complain or allow it to show on his face.
"Mr. Sackett tells me that you prefer an alias for Woodhull," Washington said, casually strolling through the wind-blown snow storm as if it were nothing. "I must say, I concur."
"Forgive me sir," Ben hesitatingly said as Washington's words sunk in, "I thought we agreed that the best way for-"
"You were right," the general interrupted, "for this prescription, we require an amendment in the name of trust. Following our retreat at Brooklyn Heights, I tasked an agent to reconnoiter enemy encampments around Long Island and seek out contacts friendly to our side. His name was Nathan Hale and he was captured while he was on a mission for me. He was hanged as a spy."
Ben could only blink and stare at the general in shock, hearing the previously said words on Nathan Hale by Mr. Sackett said last night, as he tried to come to terms hearing it from his Commander as absolute confirmation. He wanted to say that it was false that Nathan was more careful with proclaiming his allegiance to the rebel cause than most people he knew, especially since the student body at Yale had been clearly split between the Whigs and Tories, but his words were stuck in the back of his throat.
"Fortunately," Washington continued, "his best friend at Yale, Benjamin Tallmadge, spoke often of his hometown friends; a whaler named Brewster, and a farmer named Woodhull. I wrote those three names down on a report – a report that I looked back on when an unsigned letter sent by an anonymous farmer proved correct."
In the brief moment of silence between the two, Ben simultaneously felt his heart lift in relief and drop at the same time, for he knew the dangers that were to come – Washington thought the chain of agents was feasible.
"Captain Hale died without any friends but my daughter to support him from afar. We cannot let that happen to Mr. Culpeper."
Benjamin remembers the crestfallen face of Lillian clearer now, as he looks in the glistening snow beneath his feet, and asks puzzled, "Mr. Culpeper?"
It was short-lived as Washington held up the boiled egg with [Mr. W] printed on it, saying, "We'll never use the name Woodhull ever again." The egg was crushed in Washington's gloved hands as the general gave him a nod of acknowledgment, turned and strode away. Ben stood there in the cold for a moment later, as an unbidden small smile worked its way up his lips. While he mourned the fact that Nathan had given his life in service to the freedom of the people here from British rule, he was glad that Washington was taking the safety and lives of his friends seriously.
A/N: Update, hooray! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! More insight into Lillian's character and what her role is in this war, as Ben noticed, a 'hunting' look in her eyes. She definitely has more reasons for being there other than getting intelligence for her father. And Caleb was introduced, finally! What a man he is. Stay tuned for more soon! Please review!
-BrownEyedGirl87