Chapter 14: Drifting words

Another pain of a chapter to write. I hope the next one's better.

All done with my ap test. I think I did pretty well.

Currently, I have run out of my reserve of back chapters. I'm posting this one to tide you over, but I won't be posting the next chapter (15) until I've written two or three chapters ahead.

Warning: dark description in this chapter. I think the gothic lit unit in English is getting to me.

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Sarah pov

1776

My dear Sarah

I hope that this letter finds you in good health and pre-marital bliss (though whether to Mr. Hiller or another is no concern of mine). I have yet to hear any word from you since your departure, and I hope that is due to the chaos stirring in the colonies rather than negligence.

I'm afraid that word of your situation has come out. Fortunately disgraceful news arose concern lord Allen's son has overshadowed our shame, so thank the lord for that. Still, our family name is still brought up quite frequently in gossip halls. I don't need to remind you, but a southern planter would make a good husband for you (one who is loyal to the crown, of course).

But this letter is not about your pitiful situation. I have received no word from your father since he left. Since you are closer to the Ohio territory, I thought you might receive word from him before I do. I fear that he might have departed from this word. It might be prudent for me to seek another partner. I know it may come as a shock to you, but if I do not receive word from him in a year's time, I will be forced to remarry. There are many men who have taken interest in me since your father left, and I would not suffer to be bond to one of them. A remarriage could certainly improve our fiscal situation. Who knows? It may be possible to have you return to England, if you are still unmarried.

Your mother,

Lady Phillips

Sarah placed the letter down on her writing desk and frowned. She'd preferred the first letter she received from her mother after more than two years in the colonies to be a bit more pining and optimistic. Still, a letter was a letter, and it was good to her from her mother after so long. The subject was worrying, however. Even after all those years with no word, Sarah still believed her father was out there, at least in her heart of hearts. The mere thought of her mother marrying another man made Sarah feel queasy and alone. She was so far away.

She dried her eyes, folded the letter up, placed it carefully in her skirt pocket, and made her way downstairs. James, Henri, and Moses, were huddled beside the press, arguing about whether or not to print some information. Sarah was in no mood to join them. She perched on a stool, and rested her head in her hand. She would just have to wait for the squabble to be over so she could discuss the letter with James, or better yet, Moses.

All heads turned when the tiny bell attached to the door announced a customer. Sarah hope for someone interesting, but resumed her position when she saw it was just Dr. Franklin. The argument faded away.

"I have some important news. The loyalists have been stealing our mail. We can't trust anything we've received via correspondence. But because of my past experience, Congress has declared me postmaster general of the colonies." Dr. Franklin boomed this announcement after placing a bundle of letters on the countertop.

"Excuse me sir, but we've obtained a dispatch from an unidentified source. It says the British are moving south out of Boston" James broken into the conversation with his usual gusto. Sarah rolled her eyes. Showoff.

"Well, let me see first." Dr. Franklin made his way over to the cluster. Taking the letter from James, he examined it carefully. When he found what he was looking for, he motioned them closer. "See this mark here? It's f for fire. Sarah, hand me that candle over there." with that, he lit the candle, and eased the letter towards the gleaming flame. Sarah nearly cried out when words began appearing.

"This letter's written in invisible ink. The British are staying in Boston, not moving out. This just proves that we need to be careful concerning the mail. Those letters over there are supposed to go to New York. James, you're the only one here who can take them." Dr. Franklin transferred the letters from the counter to James.

"Wait! I'm going too!" the words left her mouth before she could process them. Maybe it was because of the letter. She'd written her mother every week and she hadn't received a single letter. Even worse, word had gotten out about her. She needed to see the mail system at work before she used it

James was opposed, of course. "No. there is no way she's going along. She's probably a spy!" Sarah and James had a duel of dirty looks. She finally triumphed with a look she hoped conveyed the message of castration.

"Why don't we let dr. franklin decide. It is his mail system."

"Fine, but he's never going to let a tory girl like you come along on a dangerous."

Sarah and James both turned to dr. franklin, each providing a look they hoped would convey their ideals.

James pov

The dirt road to New York thudded comfortingly beneath Caesar's hooves. The letters in mailbag rustled like fallen leaves at his side. James griped the reins hard as the road made a swift bend. Sarah came up behind him. He motioned for her to stop near a black stone.

"That milestone mean's we're halfway to new York." he turned to face her "this is a good a place as any to stop and rest."

James got out of to his saddle, and held out his hand to help Sarah. She took it, and James savored the warm, silky feel of her skin. He tied the horses to a nearby fallen tree while she removed the saddles and bridles. They made their way to a nearby tree, and settled down. Sarah placed her head on James' shoulder and closed her eyes. James did likewise.

When James opened his eyes, the sun had journeyed from the middle of the sky to the edge. He swore and stood up, waking Sarah in the process. They exchanged worried looks and rushed towards the horses. They sped through the saddling process, barley securing the reins before galloping off.

"We're going to have to ride all night to make up the lost time." Sarah said with a note of misery in her voice. James risked impropriety and took her hand again. He stroked the dainty knuckles this time in a gesture he hoped was reassuring rather than forward.

They rode further on, not encountering anything until they came to a dilapidated old barn, Sarah spotted them first.

"Those men. They must be the ones stealing the mail." She whispered.

"Good thing they haven't seen us. Wait here. I'm going around." He maneuvered off the road, ignoring her whispered cries of protest. James felt bad for making Creaser pick his way through the woods, and even worse for leaving Sarah alone on a lonely road with a bunch of strange men ahead of her, but this had to be done, for liberty's sake. He found an empty stump and gently placed the bag down. He returned to find Sarah surrounded by the strange men. James cursed his luck. He had debated bringing his standard pistol, but decided not to. They would be safe without it, he thought then. He looked for a good club, but was unable to find one. Resigning himself to their shared fate, he joined Sarah.

"Oh there you are dear! Tell these men about your mother, and how sick she is." A small wink, easily enough explained away by people who didn't know her clued James in on the lie.

"Oh, oh, yes, well, it's very serious. The pox, probably. "James clumsily stepped into the lie.

"the pox? She said it was influenza!" one of the men yelled.

James thought quickly," well it was influenza at first, but when she finally recovered from that, it was the pox."

The men looked unconvinced. Sarah began coughing.

"Darling, I don't feel very well. Perhaps I took sick from your mother." She attached several more coughs at the end to punctuate the testament. James had to suppress a smile. Laying it on rather thickly, aren't we Sarah? He thought.

The men didn't seem to think so. Looks of shock and dread broke out on their faces.

"r-right on your way m-ma'am. There s-should be an inn c-close by." One stammered, clearly trying to put as much distance as possible from the deathly contagion. Sarah and James both urged their horse pass, with Sarah presenting a few more hacking coughs. Once they were free from the thieves' eye's she miraculously recovered from her fabricated ailment.

"Keep working on that act, you might have a chance of making it." James teased. Sarah gave him a dirty look and took on a ladylike posture while urged her horse a few steps out of reach. James pressed Creaser to catch up. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"I did not enjoy that, James hiller. It was hard enough without you mocking me." The ice in her voice could freeze a summer's day. Her eyes were focused straight ahead, as though James was a fly-rotted carcass oozing at the side of a road.

"What, lying to those men back there? Sarah, we didn't have any choice! If we'd told the truth, they'd probably take the mail and shoot us. Do you want that?" James' bellow grew louder and louder as the images floated into his mind. First, the Tories ripping open the mail, effectively murdering hundreds of soldiers. next, a gun lined up against his forehead, cocked and ready to fire. And then the worst most horrifying of all, Sarah, beaten and bloody a bullet wound in her forehead, lying lifeless in some god forsaken forest floor. No. James thought, I'll die before that happens to her.

"I guess you're right. But I've always been taught that lying-"a loud roar cut Sarah off in the middle of her sentence. Up ahead, the road transformed into a pillar of fire and smoke fit enough to guide the Hebrews. The horse reared, and James reached out for Sarah, fearing the worst. A shadowy mob came out from behind the trees and surrounded them.

"Hello there! Let's try and keep this civil now. would you Tories kindly give us back the mail you stole?" the middle age man in front of them commanded, keeping his gun fixed on them.

"Sir, we're not Tories. We're carrying the mail for dr. franklin himself." James handed him the letter. The man studied it, smiled and turned back towards them.

"Well, then. I'm awful sorry about that. Can't be too careful, especially at times like these. We're mail workers from New Jersey. Allow us to escort you to New York."

A few days of travel later, they arrived in New York. James led Sarah into The Green Light tavern.

"James? What are we doing here?" Sarah's tone waved in confusion. He smiled back at her.

"This is the end of the line. Mail here will be distributed all over the colony, and the mail for oversea will be taken abroad. Any letter you write your mother will surely arrive there safely."

Sarah's smile lit up the room. She threw her arms around James. He was taken aback at first, but relaxed into her embrace.

"James! I'm so happy I could kiss you!"

"Please Sarah! I've suffered enough at the hands of the British!"

"Once more couldn't hurt you." She laughed, and kissed him on the check, both hearts fluttering all the while.

End

You thought they were going to kiss didn't you? Trust me, James and Sarah's first kiss will be far more interesting and embarrassing. It's just really fun to tease you guys.

This might be weird, but the letter seems a bit extreme to me in retrospect. I'm not sure if Sarah's mother's ooc or not. I guess we'll just have to wait.

I'm not sure what 18th century marriage law was like (it's the one thing that my apush book doesn't give insane amounts of detail on), but I'm guessing there was some sort of rule about how long a husband had to be missing to be considered dead. I do know there was probably divorce, since Rebecca Jackson (Andrew Jackson's wife) was a divorcee. So I'm not sure whether Sarah's mother would be called a widow or divorcee.

And as an interesting and totally unrelated note, when a small pox epidemic hit Boston in the late 18th century, Paul revere's children got sick. When the town councilmen tried to take them to the sick house (a guaranteed death warrant), he told them "you aren't taking my babies". The councilmen boarded up his house, and six months later, every single one of his kids survived. Amazing, isn't?

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