A/N: Thank you all so much for your wonderful thoughts.
I've got great news and maybe-not-so-great news!
There's a second part to this chappy, which I shall TRY to post by tomorrow afternoon. If I don't get a chance, here's some info you may want to know…
The fam and I are going on vacay this Friday! Yay!
The "bad" news is that I won't be updating while we're on vacay. Afterward, when we return, my little one and I will rest for two days before we're on our way to her Dance Nationals in Orlando!
Again, yay!
But again, there will likely be no updates while I'm there.
So basically, if I can update tomorrow, that'll prob be the last update on this story until about mid-July or so.
Also, for those of you who read and enjoyed my story, 'Begin Again,' I've got some news regarding that one at the bottom. ;)
Now, let's get to it.
Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to either history or to me.
Chapter 23 – The Incident at Midnight
My husband's voice filters through the shut doors of the dining hall, all the way to where Rosalie and I sit in the kitchen with Leah and Mrs. Clearwater. At times, his voice is loud yet determined. At other times, 'tis rough and tinged with his temper. Edward and Jasper are the ones disagreeing; I know that much.
Strange how just this morn, Edward and I were in the orchards, in the midst of one of the happiest moments we have shared so far in this short, tumultuous union of ours. We spoke of the babe; we dreamed and made plans.
Then, almost in the next instant, we spoke of a General Washington, whom a few hours from now, shall await Edward and his men halfway between Freehold and Trenton. The General shall expect Edward's militia, a militia which Edward plans to somehow free from the town prison. And the General shall await a shipment of godforsaken armaments which my husband has hidden on our land. And since I hold Edward's babe within my womb, my knowledge of these things is apparently no longer a threat.
Armaments. They have been hidden on our property for a fortnight, since Edward's return.
Now, Edward and his fellow Sons of Liberty plot and plan those events which shall take him away from me yet again, while delivering a shipment of armaments.
Rosalie sits beside me at the kitchen table. She and I sort through various medicinal plants and herbs which she shall utilize to tend to the womenfolk who depend on her – one of which shall eventually be me. As is usual when she sees me out of sorts, she finds it necessary to provide a detailed narration of what she does and with what. We use shears to cut and spoons to measure. While she grinds a portion with the mortar and pestle, I tie other pieces with string into bundles and place them within her basket. Then, we fill the empty vials with the ground medicines and place all in her wooden, medicine box.
All the while, our husbands and their friends plot and plan.
"Mistress, have you names in mind for the babe?"
With Edward now informed of the pending addition, Mrs. Clearwater and Leah are free to express their excitement. While the former stirs the pot over the hearth, the latter peels husks off corn.
"I do not, Leah; not yet."
"Would you prefer a girl child or a boy child?" she further enquires.
"I would prefer a hale child."
Mrs. Clearwater chuckles, too good to note the mockery in my tone. "Well, that goes without saying, my dear, but Cullen Hill requires an heir."
"Why cannot an heir be a girl, Mrs. Clearwater?" Rosalie asks with a wry grin.
"I suppose it may, madam. Regardless, before the household become too eager, we must keep the mistress herself hale and hearty throughout the circumstances," she sighs, "and through the birth."
With the silence around the hearth, 'tis obvious when Mrs. Clearwater realizes to what she has alluded. Her eyes are wide and clouded with horror when I meet them.
"Mrs. Clearwater, do not make yourself uneasy," I begin.
"Oh, Mrs. Cullen, all shall be well. Please do not concern yourself with the childbirth. I shall tend to your every need and ensure you are the heartiest-"
"Mrs. Clearwater-"
"Of course she shall be well," Rosalie says. "Be easy, Mrs. Clearwater. Your mistress is young, stubborn, and as healthy as a fattened pig."
"Mrs. McCarty, I pray you are correct."
By this point, the lady is close to tears. Yet, as much affection as I have acquired for her since my union with Edward, her tears are the last thing I need or desire, for they shall bring on my own, and I am far too angry to give in to tears.
"Excuse me," I say brusquely as I stand and head for the back door.
Outside, though the noon hour has come and gone, the sun is still quite strong. It is like an added weight upon my shoulders. As I stalk toward the stables, all I can think of is outrunning the oppressive heat and feeling the breeze upon my face as Hope and I race over the hills. When I am near, Davey, the youngest of the grooms – I do not believe he has reached his thirteenth year – approaches.
"May I help you, Mistress?"
"I shall ride Hope. Please saddle her."
I walk past him, intending to wait within the stables with Hope while she is readied for me. But young Davey blocks my way.
"Your mare is well, Mrs. Cullen. I have tended to her myself this afternoon since the men have been busy with Mr. Cullen and with planning the..." he trails off, but I do not miss how his eyes stray to the barn.
"I thank you, Davey. But now, I would take her for a ride around the grounds. Please saddle her."
Davey frowns and grips the back of his neck. "You see, Mrs. Cullen, Mr. Cullen has asked me to ensure you do not ride unless he is with you," the young boy swallows thickly, "and when you do ride, 'tis only to be with the side saddle."
For a few moments, I cannot speak, and my scalp verily prickles.
"Please saddle my horse."
"Mistress, the master instructed-"
"I care not what the master instructed. Saddle my horse!"
"Please, Mistress," the boy pleads.
"Isabella."
I spin around furiously as Rosalie approaches.
"Do not tell me you agree with this nonsense, Rosalie, for you and I have been riding daily for months."
"I do not agree at all," Rosalie says, "but young Davey's head is about to split in two as he's forced to pick between disobeying master or mistress."
When I turn back to the boy, he indeed shakes and appears to fight back tears.
"Davey, I apologize." I set a hand on his shoulder, fighting back my own tears of remorse. "I shall take it up with my husband. You need not concern yourself."
"Mistress, I did not mean to block your way," he says in a quivering voice.
"Do not concern yourself, Davey. You were merely following my husband's instructions. All is well." I offer him a comforting smile.
"Very well, mistress." He utters the words swiftly before practically sprinting into the stables before his insane mistress changes her mind.
"In my father's household, apologizing to a groom would be unheard of."
Rosalie is silent.
"What sort of mother shall I be when I just frightened a poor boy so?"
"You are upset."
"I am furious."
Here, Rosalie chuckles. "Are you truly?" she smirks. "I had not noticed in the least bit."
"How dare he?"
"How dare the groom or how dare your husband?"
I give her a look which says she knows very well of whom I speak.
She snorts. "I cannot say I am surprised, Isabella. You carry his child now. As much as he may adore you, your role has changed drastically, as has his."
"I should have never told him. I should have simply kept the news entirely to myself," I hiss.
She laughs with her entire being. "Men may not be the most intelligent of creatures, but I dare say your husband would have noticed it eventually – perhaps when a tiny being stretched out his or her plump arms and called him 'Papa.'"
Despite my misery, the image she paints with her words makes me smile. "What difference shall it make? He will be gone soon at any rate."
Here again, she says nothing, and I regret my words instantly, for her husband shall be gone as well. I cross my arms against my chest, and after a few moments, I give voice to what we both know has me so upset this afternoon.
"Armaments, Rosalie, hidden within our lands. Know you what would happen if those armaments were discovered here? On your property? On Jasper's property? All would hang – from the youngest groom to Papa Carlisle when he returns."
"You would not hang," she says in that droll manner of hers.
"No." I snort. "No, I would likely not. Now, they plot and plan in the dining hall that which shall affect us all, yet we are banished from the room. How can you bear it?"
"I suppose I have had more time to accept the fact that our men shall not stop; that they have one goal, and they mean to carry it all the way. Besides, Isabella, I have my own pursuits. There are women who depend on me to remain clear-headed and focused regardless of the Troubles in these colonies. What is more, it does no good, for our husbands shall do as they shall do until these colonies may call themselves a nation."
"I…" I swallow thickly, "I understand to a point, Rosalie, but my father is not a stupid man. If they free the militia, whether they be apprehended in the act or not, Father shall know Edward was involved, and by extension, he shall know Emmett was involved, and so forth for the rest."
"They count on his being unable to prove such."
I shake my head and fist my hair, growling in frustration.
"If he allows me to speak to my father, perhaps-"
"Isabella, he would not allow it when 'twas only you. Now that he knows of the babe-"
"I thought his knowledge of the babe was what would have made him listen to me! Instead, everyone has such senseless concerns." Despite the bitterness in my tone, my hand wraps protectively over my stomach. "Edward with my riding habits, and Mrs. Clearwater already wondering if I shall survive childbirth. What of that which shall occur this eve? Should that not be the main concern?"
"As I said, Isabella; they shall do as they shall do."
Miserably, I stare out at the landscape as the sun hides behind the clouds and the field is blanketed in a vast, dark shadow.
"The babe within me has made me all the more important…and yet all the more impotent."
"Dearest, since the beginning of time, it has been the lot of women. You willingly take on the most essential duty of all, yet the men believe they may limit you all the more for it. They fight for the equality of all, yet they keep you in the kitchen."
When she finishes, she swallows thickly, and as I watch this exceedingly strong woman fight her own tears, I am wracked by more guilt than ever for leading the conversation in this direction. She speaks of this most essential duty, but she does not include herself in the description because for some inexplicable reason, Rosalie has been excluded from motherhood. Yet, for the past few hours, I have done nothing but bemoan my own situation.
I believe I shock myself as much as I do her when I cup Rosalie's cheek, for I have never been the demonstrative sort – at least, not before I met my husband.
"Rosalie, what would I do without your friendship these past months?"
Instead of replying with one of her witty retorts, she blinks back her tears and smiles.
OOOOOOOOOO
When I quietly open the dining hall doors and step inside, Edward is seated at the long, rectangular table. The rest of the men are stood and gathered 'round him. In front of my husband is spread out a large parchment, and they are all apparently so involved with it that none note my entry.
"He shall await us here," Edward says, pointing sharply at some point on the parchment. "But we only have a window of two hours, for if we do not appear within those two hours, I have beseeched the General not to tarry. He is too valuable to the Cause to risk capture if we should fail."
"And if we do fail?" Emmett asks.
"If we fail…those of us who make it out must find their way to Quebec. If Alice Andre's information is correct, the British are planning something up North; perhaps recapture of the forts or reinforcement of those they still hold to prevent us from joining with Quebec in the struggle."
"Edward, how do we know we can trust that woman's information?" Jasper asks.
My husband looks up at him. "We do not know, Jasper. I am conjecturing that somehow Alice is aware of the true loyalties of Isabella's husband, which is why she writes in the manner in which she does."
"But she is Tory, is she not? And she is married to a lobsterback."
"Aye, but if she be as deeply entrenched in the Cause as I suspect…perhaps a Daughter of Liberty...?"
"The Daughters of Liberty truly exist?" Seth asks.
"Aye," Edward nods. "When we dumped the tea in Boston, 'twas a Daughter of Liberty, Sarah Fulton, who came up with the notion we dress as Mohawks. General Washington informs me this same woman was at the Battle of Bunker Hill last month, coordinating nurses to help with the wounded."
"There are rumors Sarah Franklin, Ben Franklin's daughter, is also a Daughter of Liberty," Emmett says.
"Good for her," Jasper says. "Though her brother, our colony's Royal governor, William Franklin, be a traitor, at least Ben Franklin knows his daughter to be a true patriot like he."
My husband nods his agreement. "And there are others, such as Mrs. Margaret Gage," he points out. "From what my wife tells me, she and Alice were both close Mrs. Gage. I do not believe it be a far leap to conjecture that if Alice was already sympathetic to the Patriot cause, her friendship with Mrs. Gage led her to the Daughters of Liberty."
"And once Mrs. Gage learned of Isabella's union to you, as a Daughter of Liberty, Mrs. Gage would know your true alliances," Emmett says.
"Exactly, and as we trusted Mrs. Gage, and my wife trusts Alice, then so shall I."
They are silent for a handful of seconds. Meanwhile, I stand there with my mouth agape, for my husband has made all these shocking connections…and all unknown to me.
"Very well. We shall trust as well, Edward, but let us leave now, and let us utilize that shipment. Too much is at stake to take this slowly."
My husband shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Jasper, as we have discussed, we must await the cover of night. Moreover, weapons shall only be used as a last resort."
Jasper bangs a palm against the table. "For God's sake, Edward! What difference does it make? Think you Major Swan will not suspect us?"
"Damnation!" Edward bangs the table as well. "Whether he suspects or not-"
"Edward?"
"What is it?" He is so involved, he answers curtly, and when he looks up and sees me, his irritation morphs into remorse. "Isabella, my love, I apologize." Then quickly, his remorse becomes confusion. "What is it, Isabella? Are you well?"
Attempt to calm my racing heart, I draw in a deep breath and refuse to allow my anxiousness to seep into my speech.
"May we speak?"
He frowns. "Now? The men and I are in the midst-"
"Aye. Now, Edward."
Jasper makes a sound of impatience under his breath, while Edward exhales his own heavy breath.
"Very well."
He excuses himself and strides swiftly to where I stand by the doors at the other end of the room. The men continue in hushed whispers. Edward takes my hand, and furrowing his brow, he searches my eyes.
"Are you truly well, Isabella?"
"May we speak in the hallway?"
He offers me a sharp and wary nod.
With his hand on the small of my back, he leads me through the dining hall doors and into the hallway. Once we are alone, he curves his hands 'round my shoulders and dips his head to my level.
"You are worrying me, my love," he whispers. "Are you sure you and the babe are well?"
Before replying, I shut my eyes for one moment. When I reopen them, his gaze is all the more alarmed.
"We are well, Edward."
"Thank the Lord," he exhales. "Then, what is this about?"
"Edward, when you asked to see Alice's letter earlier, why did you not tell me of your suspicions regarding her involvement with these…Daughters of Liberty?"
His brow furrows. "I saw no reason to do so."
"No reason to do so? Edward, she is my friend, and you are my husband. I have a right to know if she is attempting to communicate with you through me, do I not?"
He holds my gaze silently for a handful of seconds before nodding once.
"Very well. I should have told you, but I know you have been upset this afternoon, after I told you of…of the hidden armaments, and in your condition-"
"Edward, I have been speaking with Rosalie, and I believe we have thought of a strategy for dealing with my father."
For one moment, something like fury flashes in his eyes, but in the next moment, his expression becomes inscrutable.
"A strategy?"
"Aye, Edward. If we can distract my father-"
He does not even allow me to finish.
"Isabella, I told you before, and I shall repeat it now: you are not involving yourself in this. Now, we shall be done in a moment, and then we may have dinner and-"
"And what? What, Edward?" I ask through gritted teeth. "Then, we make love one last time before you depart again? I am good enough to bed but not good enough to listen to?"
"Stop," he says. "I am not arguing this with you when you know that is not true."
"Edward, you are making preparations to break into a prison guarded by a regiment of Regulars and Dragoons, including James, where if you do not get caught and shot on sight, you shall open fire on my father."
"I shall do all I can to keep it from coming to that; I have already told you so. But what would you have me do other than free the men?" he hisses. "They are my men, and they are about to be thrown into a prison ship."
"And he is my father!"
He grips his hair. "Isabella, we cannot do this now. I shall not argue with you. You are with child, and you cannot-"
"I cannot, what? I cannot think? I cannot reason?"
Edward cages my face between his hands. "Stop this. I shall not have you upsetting yourself in this manner."
"How can this not upset me? You are leaving me again!"
His hands fall to my arms, where he holds me gently yet firmly. "You knew this, Isabella. When I left for Trenton yesterday morn, you already knew I would be leaving again soon. The fact that you are with child makes my departure all the more necessary, for now, the Cause is all the more important. Our son or daughter shall not be a son or daughter of the Crown."
"I knew you were leaving, aye. What I did not know was that you had hidden weapons on our land! Furthermore, I am under no mistaken impression that the child or I would ever take priority over your Cause. Do not overly concern yourself with that."
My husband releases a long breath, momentarily shutting his eyes. "You are being needlessly argumentative, for that is untrue, and you know it. Do not do this. You are enraged, but 'tis painful enough for me to leave you now without you saying such things."
"But after forcing yourself into the town prison and releasing my father's prisoners, with an armament of weaponry that has the power to turn this endeavor into another Lexington and Concorde, what plan you, Edward?" I chuckle humorlessly. "Truthfully, what plan you?"
"I plan to return to you after we deliver the armaments to Massachusetts."
"My father shall never allow you within one hundred miles of Freehold if you go through with this. You shall be a wanted criminal, and you shall lose more than the tavern and your land, for he shall not allow you near your child or me."
"The tavern and the land he may keep; but he shall never keep me from you," he says with forced composure.
"You speak without reasoning, Edward, for you shall be in prison or dead, and in no position to make demands or claims. What is more, if James sees you-"
Here, all sense of forced composure abandons my husband.
"If I see James, I shall kill him," he seethes.
"If he does not kill you first."
He steps back from me, shaking his head in disbelief as if I have struck him. "What is this? How is it that just a few hours ago, we were in the orchards, happier than we have ever been?"
"I was thinking much the same when I was banished to the kitchen." I want to kick myself when my voice breaks, for I am not here to show him weakness. "And after you told me you had hidden armaments on our land for a fortnight without my knowledge as if I had no say."
"That is not why-"
"Why do you accept that Alice may help the Cause but not I?"
"Because Alice is not my wife, Isabella," Edward growls. "If she wishes to risk life and limb for her country, then I commend her. But you shall not follow her lead."
Before I can respond to that abominable speech, he closes all distance between us and slides his hands through my hair, up to the nape of my neck. Despite how outraged I am, his touch is like a soothing balm.
"Listen to me, Isabella Cullen. I love you, and you know this, though you may be too furious at the moment to acknowledge it." He dips his head to my level and forces me to hold his gaze. "I do what I do now to keep you safe. I kept information from you for your own safety. And I shall keep the vows I made in the orchard to you and our child. And…I promise you, we shall not fire a weapon unless we are fired at first."
"Is this supposed to reassure me? Edward…" Despite my efforts, a solitary tear rolls down my cheek as I reach up and cradle his face. "Edward, I know you love me, and I know you mean to keep your vows, but allowing me to help does not go against those vows. I heard you speaking of those Daughters of-"
"Isabella, enough. Go. When we finish, I shall come to get you."
His dismissal stings worse than any indignation I have ever suffered at anyone's hands. And with his decree issued, my husband, lord, and master turns his back to me and opens the dining hall doors.
"Edward, please listen to me. Your way shall cause too much irreparable damage."
When he does not pause, the words lunge from me like a poisonous arrow.
"You call this love? You are no different than my father, nor different than John Andre nor James Pitman nor any other man I may have married in the way you disregard me when it suits you."
With the doors open, the room at large has heard me. Edward's steps completely still. The rest of the men cast their gazes about, pretending they heard nothing. And aye, part of me regrets my shameful display, my hurtful words, and the embarrassment I have caused him. Yet, the more substantial part of me merely needs to get through to him.
When Edward turns and crosses the room in three strides, for a fraction of a moment, I do believe I have pushed him too far. He dips his head to my eye level, barely an inch of space between us as fire alights his gaze. He holds my chin between two fingers, and his mouth hovers close. But when he opens his mouth, 'tis not to caress my lips with his.
"You are so incensed you do not even see how you contradict yourself. Isabella, I love you with my entire being, and you may curse the day you married and compare me to anyone you wish. I shall still not risk you or our child to prove some point, to prove how much I do value your mind. You shall not be involved in this."
With finality, he backs away slowly without breaking our gaze. And when he walks back into the dining hall, he pushes the doors closed, his eyes on mine until the doors meet.
OOOOOOOOOO
'Tis in the darkness of the first hour of the new day when I arrive at my father's house…at my father's commandeered quarters in Freehold Township.
Rosalie and I both sweep our eyes 'round our surroundings, ensuring no one is about before we knock. Due to the late hour and because the town remains under martial law, the only souls about should be Regulars patrolling the streets and their green-coated counterparts. 'Tis a moonless night, and only the street lanterns provide illumination. 'Tis barely sufficient to see our hands before us, and so we may only pray as we look at one another and simultaneously drop our hoods. With a deep breath, I reach for the door knocker and give it two, quick and hard raps.
The pounding in my heart makes time stretch like a fathomless ocean, where every beat is resounding wave. In actuality, less than a minute transpires before the door is opened, and Lieutenant Felix, Father's secretary, stands at the other side.
"Miss Swan," he breathes in shock. His gaze strays to Rosalie at my side, and before he may say more, I take Rosalie's hand and walk us past the Lieutenant and into the house.
"Lieutenant Felix, is my father within?"
He nods wordlessly. "Aye," he says after a few beats as if he has recovered his speech. "Aye, Miss- I mean, Mrs."
"Please fetch him-"
"Isabella?"
I look up sharply to the winding staircase, where my father quickly descends, still in uniform, his boots pounding heavily against each step.
"Father."
I clamp a hand over my mouth right before he reaches the landing, and in three long strides, he envelops me in his warm embrace. There, I give into my tears for the betrayal I am about to commit.
"My dear," Father coos. "All will be well." He strokes my hair much as he did when I was a young girl. For a while, we remain that way, though I am aware that Rosalie stands silently beside me.
Finally, Father pulls back enough to look at me. "Isabella, what do you here and at this time? What has happened?"
"Father, I…" I say shakily, my bottom lip trembling in weakness, "I desperately need your help."
A/N: Thoughts?
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A Short History Lesson on The Daughters of Liberty, for those who are interested:
It wasn't just the guys who fought for freedom during the Revolution. While women weren't "allowed" to be the bad-asses they are today and actually participate in combat, there were still many contributions they made to The Cause. The Daughters of Liberty were a formal women Patriot association formed in 1765 to protest the Stamp Act and later fought for liberty during the Revolution.
Since women were still very limited at the time, the main tasks of the Daughters of Liberty were to protest in boycotts and non-importation movements before the outbreak of the Revolutionary War. The Daughters of Liberty participated in spinning bees, helping to produce homespun cloth for colonists to wear instead of British textiles. So, while Isabella walked around in her imported garments, women such as Rosalie wore clothing they made themselves.
The Daughters of Liberty are also well known for drinking what was later known as "liberty tea." Leaves from berries and other herbs were commonly used as tea substitutes so people could still enjoy tea while refusing to buy goods imported through Britain. These are the sort of teas Mrs. Clearwater would boil for the household. Chapters of the Daughters of Liberty throughout the colonies melted down metal for bullets and helped sew soldiers' uniforms.
And finally, there were instances of women who participated in the Revolution through much more dangerous and/or clandestine ways: secret authors of seditious pamphlets, and a handful who actually dressed as men to fight in the battles, and of course, there were the female spies…
Hope to "see" you all soon, maybe tomorrow? If not, I'll "see" you all in a couple of weeks. ;)
Oh, yes! Regarding 'Begin Again!'
Well, those of you on Facebook may have seen the teaser I posted for my sequel to 'Begin Again,' which will be entitled "Begin Again…Again.' The story will begin posting toward late summer. I'll keep you all informed, and if you follow me either on fanfiction, Facebook, or Twitter, you'll hear about it.
Take care!