Chapter Summary: Lieutenant John FitzGarrick delivers news to his commanding office, Major William Alastair. D'Arcy wakes to another evening to find his house missing one person. He is warned by his housekeeper that things will happen that no one can stop. Jeremy sees things in the aftermath of an ambush. Henry and Elizabeth find a strange woman covered in blood..

Author's Notes: While a senior in high school during 1976, I was a tour guide for the local area. I learned about a family of settlers who lived outside of Stone Church- not far from where Elywn and D'Arcy live – who were massacred by a marauding band of Iroquois, their scalped bodies found lying in various places about the farm. There was one survivor but I am changing history and not leaving any survivors. I am including that bit of local history into the story. Also, the city of Allentown was known as Lehigh Station until after the Civil War and I am using that name to keep history as straight as it can be in this strange little tale.

PLACE: Frenchtown, New Jersey

TIME: October 1777

CHAPTER ONE

Lieutenant John Michael FitzGarrick pulled at the hem of his bright red coat, straightening that which did not need to be straightened. He looked down at himself and knew his appearance was as good as it was going to be, he straightened his shoulders and knocked lightly on the closed door before him.

"Come," a stern voice called out.

John opened the door and entered the sparsely furnished office, walking a few steps across the room and standing at attention before the wooden desk and the man seated behind it. John clicked his heels together, eyes forward and saluted. "Lieutenant FitzGarrick reporting as ordered, sir."

"At ease, Lieutenant," Major William Alastair told him and waited until the young man standing before him assumed the stance. "What news do you bring?"

"The raid upon Stone Church was less than successful," John replied, cringing inwardly as he waited for the anticipated outburst.

"Explain yourself," Major Alastair said evenly.

"I did as ordered and took five foot soldiers from the barracks and we traveled to Easton and along the Delaware to Martin's Creek. There the five Iroquois warriors - as expected - joined us. We moved northeast through the night and made camp just outside of Stone Church. The farm belonging to the Latimer's was not hard to locate but was isolated as detailed in the intelligence received." John drew a breath. "We waited until first light of the next day to make our presence known. The Latimer's were struck unawares."

"And did they know anything of the rumors regarding the arms that the rebels are supposedly sneaking down the Delaware?"

"If they did, sir, they said nothing of it," John told him, hiding his own disgust, "even under duress. But they did confirm another rumor and it is that a certain favorite general of Washington's is recuperating at the Moravian Hospital in Bethlehem."

"Is he now?" Major Alastair said, a decidedly wicked little smile curling his lips. "That is, indeed, interesting news." He leaned back in his chair. "You are aware that in the rebel prison camp in Lehigh Station they hold Colonel Friedrich von Albrecht? He is a close friend of our beloved Royal Family."

"I had heard such, sir," John replied.

"Perhaps, the raid was not as great a failure as you deem it. We may not have discovered the trail they are using to bring the munitions down the river but we may have just found ourselves a bargaining chip for the freedom of Colonel von Albrecht."

"As you say, sir."

Major Alastair studied the face of the young man before him. "Have your say," he ordered.

"The Indians, sir," John began and could not stop the slight grimace that crossed his handsome face. "They massacred the entire family. All of the Latimer's are dead – right down to the smallest child. They took their scalps!"

Major Alastair rose from his chair and walked around to place a hand on his lieutenant's shoulder; he was fond of the young man and was personally grooming the heir to a very old, very powerful, very loyal family for great things. "Let it go, son," he said. "There is always a cost during war and unfortunately it is usually paid by those with the least reason to pay."

"As you say, sir," John replied, knowing it would be a long time – if ever – before he could forget the sights that had met his eyes that afternoon.

"Go now and find a comfortable tavern in the town and the warmth of a comely barmaid to ease the chill in your heart."

"Yes sir," John said as he once again straightened, saluted and turned smartly on his heel, leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

Major William Alastair watched as the door closed. He walked over to the window of his office and drew back the curtain, staring into the lowering light of an early autumn evening. William laughed – a low, triumphant sound. "I may have just found a way to get myself out of this hell hole and back to civilization!"

--

D'Arcy de Poulignac rose from his slumber, instantly awake. He sat upright, a thin hand reaching to slightly pull back the heavy draperies that surrounded his bed. A smile curled his lips as he took note of the violet light filtering into the room through other heavy draperies that hung over the lone attic window. D'Arcy flung back the draperies onto which he held and slipped from his bed. He walked across the dusty attic floor and down the stairs to the second floor. He exited the attic door and stood in the hallway listening, his sharp ears hearing nothing, a look of pain crossing his refined features.

"Not again," he sighed sadly.

D'Arcy moved gracefully and silently down the stairs from the second floor to the main floor of the house he now called home. He surveyed the interior of his home, noting the candles and oil lamps that flickered in the parlor and the dining room, casting dancing shadows into corners where the light could not fully reach. He shook his head and turned toward the back of house, walking down the hallway and into the kitchen, pausing in the door of the brightly lit room. "Where is she?" he asked.

The old woman sitting at the table looked up at him. "Gone," she said simply.

"To where?" D'Arcy demanded.

For a brief moment the rheumy eyes of the old woman were replaced by slanted pools of endless ebony but then the moment passed. "I do not know."

D'Arcy walked to the table, sitting down, ignoring the glowing orb that hung floating over the table, filling the room with light that no mere candle or oil lamp ever could. He took hold of the old woman's hands. "Honoria, please," he pleaded. "You know what she is like when this happens. You know how distressed she becomes. Do you not remember the first night that we found her?"

"How could I ever forget?" Honoria wondered. "She was half out of her mind with the grief and the stress and she nearly died from the chill she caught." She shook her head sadly. "But this time I cannot tell you where she has gone."

"I knew it!" D'Arcy shouted. "You do know where she is! Tell me! Tell me so I can go and bring her home!"

Slowly the old woman seated before D'Arcy began to fade away and in her place was a tall, ageless beauty with ebony hair that gleamed blue beneath the glowing orb and slanted ebony eyes that held the wisdom of ages forgotten long before man was even a dream. "You cannot go to her," the woman said, her voice strangely hollow. "Not this time. There are others who need to find her, to bring her home. There are greater things in motion here than you can imagine. You will confront your past and she will face her future and no one can change what is to happen." The strange woman faded back into the old housekeeper. "We cannot bring her home this time. Not this time."

D'Arcy stared at the old woman before him, anger glaring in his eyes, white tips sneaking from beneath his upper lip. He threw up his hands and screamed in frustration, rising to his feet and beginning to pace. "I do not like this!" he growled. "I do not like this, at all!"

--

The battle had been swift and brutal – a sneak attack on a convoy of food and medical supplies bound for Valley Forge. Word of the existence and destination of the convoy had managed to find the ears of those who did not wish it to reach its destination. They had lain in wait, hidden in the surrounding woods, as the convoy used a trail known only to those who lived in the local area. They had chosen the spot for ambush carefully, lessons learned from their Indian allies proven valuable, attacking the convey in an area where the trail narrowed, a lake on one side, steep cliffs on the other. The sound of shots had echoed off the cliffs, the cries of attackers and defenders rising into the twilight sky. The sounds of battle had lasted for nearly an hour before fading away, the convoy safely defended, the dead, dying and wounded lying about in the fog that had risen from the lake, mixing and mingling with the smoke from the battle, distorting vision, disorienting the survivors.

Jeremy Larkin stumbled over a log as he moved through the fog, listening to the sounds about him, struggling to find those who had been hurt in the ambush. "Darn," he muttered as he rubbed a bruised shin. He straightened and walked over the fallen log, standing still and listening. A puzzled look crossed his face as he heard something he had not expected – a woman's voice. Jeremy focused in on that voice and he followed the sound.

"I cannot do this any longer," the female voice cried.

Jeremy moved through the smoke and fog.

"Connell!" the voice continued to cry.

A break formed in the fog and Jeremy paused at the sight that met his eyes.

A young woman with long brown curls sat on the cool ground, the bodice of her dress covered in blood. Her arms were wrapped around a young man with long blonde hair and a gaping wound in his chest. Their hands were clasped and she was crying.

"Wynnie," the young man gasped and arched his back.

"Connell, please stay," she pleaded. "Please do not leave me again."

"I … I … not much time," the man breathed. "Listen … you must listen …"

The young woman closed her eyes and bent down to place kisses over the man's face.

"Elwyn … danger … the guns …" The young man drew a deep shuddering breath; it was obvious he did not have much longer. "The hospital … get the general …" He smiled at her. "Love you …"

"I love you so much," she breathed back, smiling through her tears.

He reached up a hand to touch her face. "Faith," he breathed. "Keep faith …" his hand slipped from her face, his head falling backward.

"Connell?" the young woman asked and let out a wail torn from the depths of a tormented soul as the fog closed in around her.

Her cry finally startled Jeremy from the spell in which he had been wrapped as he watched them and he quickly moved through the thickening fog guided by the fading sound of weeping. A puzzled from crossed his face as he reached ths spot where he had seen the couple – there was no one there.

"Jeremy!" a voice called out.

"Over here, Isak!" Jeremy called back, looking around in confusion. "I know I saw them," he muttered under his breath.

"Saw who?" Isak asked as he finally reached Jeremy's side.

Jeremy did not look up at his friend but waved his hand over empty ground. "There was a young woman here," he said softly.

"A young woman?" Isak wondered, a raised eyebrow punctuating his question.

Jeremy did not seem to hear him. "And she was holding a dying man in her arms." He raised his head to look at Isak. "And now there is nothing here!"

"A vanishing woman and a dying man?" Isak asked, reaching out to tap a finger against Jeremy's head. "Are you sure you did not take a blow to the head during the fighting?"

"I am sure," Jeremy replied and looked around, trying to peer through the ever thickening fog. "I know what I saw."

"Shall I tell you what I know?" Isak pointed off in the direction of the three wagon convoy. "There are still wagons full of supplies that are needed in Valley Forge. There are wounded – ours and theirs – who need to get there, as well. Another half day will see us safely there and another day of good riding will see us back in Chester."

Jeremy pulled himself together. "You are right. I know you are right." He laughed rather nervously and clasped his friend on the shoulder. "Now I am beginning to see things!"

Isak waved a hand through the air, the fog swirling about in the currents he created. "It is this fog; it distorts vision." He grinned at Jeremy. "At least it was not a ghost!"

--

Henry huffed and puffed up the side of the small hill, a handkerchief coming from his pocket, wiping at his forehead. "Elizabeth!" he called out.

Elizabeth paused, turning around, a hamper in her hands. "It is just a small hill, Henry!"

"It is not the size of the mountain we tackle," Henry assured her, "it is the pace at which we tackle it."

Elizabeth laughed and walked back to Henry, easily slipping her arm through his. "Then we shall tackle it together for is that not how we can strength – in our unity?"

Henry patted the hand resting on his arm. "A wiser and more gracious woman there never existed."

"You tell that to your friend Jeremy."

"I do," Henry assured her, "at every opportunity that presents itself."

"You!" Elizabeth replied with a toss of her head and a large smile.

The two friends continued to walk up the hill – at a slower pace – reaching the top and pausing momentarily to gaze over the scenic valley spread below them. Henry took the hamper from Elizabeth, placing the blanket that covered it on the ground. He and Elizabeth sat down, Elizabeth retrieving food and drink from the ample interior of the hamper and passing a portion to Henry. They chatted while they ate of this and that, the latest town gossip, the latest scandal from Philadelphia, avoiding the one subject that hung potent in the air between them. Finally the meal was done, the hamper refilled and Henry and Elizabeth sat at the edge of the blanket, their feet pointing off in the distance, Henry's eyes closed, Elizabeth's face raised to the sun, enjoying the warm Indian Summer day.

"Do you think they are all right?" Elizabeth wondered as she lowered her head, her gaze seeming to search the surrounding countryside.

Henry nodded his head. "There was nothing untoward – just escorting a simple convoy. You know we heard no mutterings of anything dangerous."

"I just worry," Elizabeth told him.

Henry opened his eyes and turned to look at her. "As do I," he replied. "But the destination is not that far distant and but an easy ride back to Chester for men in the good shape of Jeremy and Isak."

Elizabeth laughed, her joy carrying out upon the warm autumn breeze. "You can do anything to which you put your mind, Henry Abington, and do not try to convince me otherwise!" Her laughter faded into a small smile. "Thank you for coming with me this day. I could not have borne another meal inside." Her gaze returned to scanning the valley below dotted with bright splashes of rich fall colors. "All too soon there will be no more days for picnic lunches and we shall be stuck inside for the winter."

"I am glad you asked me," Henry told her, looking down as Elizabeth's hand clasped his arm. "What …" he began.

"Henry, look!" Elizabeth pointed to a small grouping of bushes at the bottom of the hill. "Something is moving in there!"

Henry's gaze followed Elizabeth's finger; he did see something disturbing the otherwise peaceful stillness of the county side. "It is probably just an animal," he told her.

Elizabeth had let go of his arm and was rising to her feet. "Animals do not wear blue dresses!" she replied, already moving down the gentle incline.

"Elizabeth," Henry warned as he got to his feet, following her. "Do not go alone!"

But Elizabeth paid him no heed and ran lightly down the hill, stopping just short of the bushes. "Oh dear!" she breathed, a hand going to her throat. "Henry!" she called. "Quickly!"

"I am right here," Henry began and shook his head. "Oh dear …"

Elizabeth was on her knees, gently moving tangled branches out of the way, uncovering a young woman, her eyes closed, the front of her blue dress covered in dried blood. Elizabeth reached out trembling fingers for the woman's neck.

"Is she alive?" Henry asked.

Elizabeth nodded as her hands moved easily over still limbs, feeling a scalp beneath thick curls. Elizabeth looked up at Henry. "I do not think she is hurt. I do not think the blood is her own." Elizabeth worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "We should try and move her out of branches."

"Let me," Henry offered and he moved to kneel at the woman's head, slipping his hands under her shoulders and pausing as eyelids began to flutter. "Miss," Henry wondered. "Can you hear me?"

"Connell," came the barely breathed word as fluttering eyelids finally opened, breath drawn in sharply. "Do not hurt me!"

"We are not going to hurt you," Elizabeth told her, getting the other woman's attention, seeing a bit of relief pass through her panic in her eyes. "Do you know where you are? Can you tell us what happened?"

The woman's chin began to tremble, tears falling down her cheeks. "Connell," she repeated.

"Is that your husband?" Elizabeth asked, taking note of the intertwined rings worn on a chain about the woman's neck. "Has he been hurt?"

"Please," Henry said softly, touched by the woman's distressed condition, "allow us to help."

"No one can help," the woman cried, opening her eyes to gaze up at the pleasant round face looking down at her. "No one can ever help."

"My name is Henry Abington," Henry said with a smile and a nod to Elizabeth. "And that is my friend, Elizabeth Coates."

"Elwyn," the woman managed around her tears and shook her head. "Ellie."

Elizabeth took her hand, squeezing in gently. "Ellie," she began softly, "let us help you get into a sitting position and then you must allow us to help."

Ellie nodded, the tears still flowing down her cheeks.

Henry nodded at Elizabeth who took Ellie's other hand in her own. "Let us do all the work," he told Ellie and began to lift her to a sitting position.

"Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked as what little color was left in Ellie's face began to drain.

"I think … I think …" Ellie said as her eyes rolled up and she fell forward into Elizabeth's arms.