friends! Romans! Countrymen! I am so sorry for the complete lack of updates. All my fault—real life punching me in the face in the form of canvas portraits, meningitis, Harry Potter, Russian countesses and Polish duchesses, horrible relations, fluffy puppies, anorexia, copious amounts of jewels, an 18th century style velvet shrug, chocolate, ice baths, double chins, bulimia, silken gowns, penne pasta, ugly sweaters, golden cloaks, noses, Chinese food, midterms, ice skating, spritely old women, and of course The Dance of Torture otherwise known as ballet. Not necessarily all mine, all stuff I had to deal with.
Henri was not alone. Barely a moment later James had joined the little boy in embracing Moses. Sarah was happy to see him as well, but she lingered behind, listening as the other two boys peppered their caretaker with questions. He motioned for them to sit down and all three children did, so fast it was as if someone had kicked them in the knees.
"How did you know the British were at the shop?" asked James.
"It was just luck that I had been delayed. I arrived late at night and Mr. Adams had someone send for me. Since you children weren't around I thought you might go to Boston—I checked the Wheatley residence before stopping here."
"Why did you zhink zhat?" asked Henri. Moses smiled ruefully.
"Well, where else was I to look?"
James twisted one of the fingers on his left hand, a habit left over from when he wore his mother's ring. "What are we going to do now?"
Silence, then Moses sighed. "I'm not sure. We...we will see what happens as it happens. Dr. Franklin is going to have a trial soon enough and then..." He spread his hands. For the first time James saw how tired the man looked.
That was not the answer the children had been hoping for—not that there was such an answer to be found.
Mrs. Adams eventually sent them to bed and, relieved that she seemed to apparently have forgotten their lateness.
Sarah whispered to James that the plan he had suggested was not nearly as awful as his others and he should explain it to her and Henri in more detail. The boys gave the affirmative and the three of them sat down on the steps; James and Henri on the top step and Sarah in between them on the step one lower.
"Good," whispered Sarah behind her hand and underneath the gentle discourse that was two adults talking about doing so much more then the three of them could. She shook her head. "We have to do it."
"And after zhat?" Henri said quietly. "If eet douse'nt work?"
"Well, it will work. Something will work." James reached across Sarah to embrace Henri with one arm, by default catching Sarah up in it as well. Henri grabbed Sarah's wrist, and they sat like that while James quietly told them his idea.
This part of the plan didn't actually require James or Henri, though both were, of course, coming along. Sarah hadn't protested. She was a bit worried about the General's anger at her when he ended up hearing her words and knew it would be nice to have...reinforcements.
Of course if it didn't work, she would be the one in trouble because it was her responsibility.
She, James and Henri were walking slower then their usual pace but she wasn't going to snap at them to hurry it that day. She bit her lip and straightened her dress—she was wearing one of Nabby's, which was a peculiar light shade of pink with a brownish tinge, and it was slightly too small around the shoulders. This issue was solved with one of Mrs. Adams' petticoats, which were several inches too long. Normally none of which would amount to an issue but she did not want to stand out today, or appear as anything but a lady.
They had ascertained directions from a shopkeeper near the house of Mrs. Adams. The quartering act was still very much in effect and General Conway was residing at a very comfortable residence in Boston. And they were nearing said comfortable residence much, much too soon.
Almost simultaneously all three children glanced behind them for a moment.
"You don't have to go inside." said James for the last time. "I'll go."
"Or I'll go!" Henri contributed valiantly.
"Neither of you can go because I'm going." said Sarah. "No one would believe you or Henri if you went to give a British General a letter."
"I would believe me." grumbled Henri, kicking a cobblestone.
"Well, I wouldn't." said Sarah briskly, sounding more like her old governess then she cared to think about. "And it only makes sense to use me, because..." she stopped suddenly, and then looked up at the house.
There were no servants out in the yard, though it was almost luncheon, and it was starting to very lightly snow.
Sarah smiled at both of them like she wasn't scared, walked up the steps, hissed at Henri to go back and stand with James near the bottom of them, and knocked on the door.
A footman opened the door of the house. Sarah tilted her head up to look at him and clenched her borrowed skirts with one hand. "I have come to see General Conway." She said. Her voice was quieter than she would have liked.
The footman frowned. "It's Sunday, miss. The General is not receiving visitors today."
Sarah swallowed and tried to make herself sound like her mother did when giving instructions to the help. "He— must see me. I have a message for him."
"I am sure I can take it to him for you." said the footman with a hint of smugness. Sarah bit back a rude reply. She was beginning to get annoyed with the arrogant boy who she judged to be only a few years older than herself.
"And I am certain that you cannot." she replied, her annoyance strengthening her confidence. "Unless you wish to tell the General that important news regarding the British military was missed because you couldn't let me see him."
The footman stood for a few moments debating, and James held back a chuckle at Sarah's tactics. It was as if she had grown taller, her eyes colder, and her tone haughtier in just a few seconds, and the youth was obviously at a loss of what to do.
Finally he nodded and opened the door. "Stay there." he said, closing the door behind him and nodding to the sitting room. "Don't move."
Sarah sat in a chair with her hands folded demurely in her lap. She crossed her ankles and lowered her eyes, but smiled at the footman victoriously. "Alright."
James sat outside with Henri, neither child saying anything. It was unspoken that they were both too nervous about the reaction of the General to say anything. Their silence was not, however, awkward—the boys regarded each other as brothers—the quiet was comforting to both of them.
As with all comforting, brotherly moments, a wooden hoop hit someone in the head to cut it short. In this case, the recipient of said hoop was James, who leapt up.
"What was that?" he asked, looking around. Henri shrugged.
"My apologies!" said a voice behind them. The two boys turned around—they had been leaning against a fence that surrounded the steps up to the entrance of the mansion—to see a boy on the other side of the short iron fence. He looked to be around James' age, but he wore an expensive looking dark blue coat and a hat. James almost choked with laughter when he saw that there was lace on the cuffs of his shirt. He was of the state of mind that all boys who wore lace, especially on regular days, were ridiculous.
Nevertheless, James picked up the hoop and handed it back to him. "You almost brained me." he said, but not in a very angry manner. The boy ducked his head in another apology.
"Can I see it?" asked Henri, and the boy handed him his stick and hoop, consequently making Henri loose interest in the conversation.
"I didn't mean to. I hit it too hard and instead of rolling out of the gatehouse it flew. You aren't hurt, are you?"
"Me? No. Do you live here?"
The boy nodded.
"So you're General Conway's son." James said, not attempting to mask his distaste.
"No, my name is William Abbey III." said William Abbey III.
"I thought General Conway lived here." said James quickly. If they had sent Sarah into the wrong house there would be definite problems.
"He does. But my father owns the house. General Conway lives here when he isn't at camp."
"The Quartering Act." said James to himself, a little louder than he should've.
"The What?" asked William Abbey III.
"The Quartering Act means that people have to take British soldiers into their homes without having their room, board, or meals paid for. They probably put the general into your house because it's so big."
"Oh." William Abbey III didn't seem troubled by this information at all. James frowned.
"Isn't that unfair?"
William Abbey III cocked his head to the side. "Well, I don't think so. The soldiers are protecting us, aren't they?"
No, James wanted to say, but he didn't. Instead he replied, "Well, shouldn't people get a choice whether or not they want someone living in their house?"
"I suppose, but as I said, the soldiers protect us from deranged revolutionaries. That pays for room and board, doesn't it?"
"Revolutionaries aren't deranged!" said James a little louder than he had intended. "Ah, they just care about liberty, that's all."
"Are you a revolutionary?" asked William Abbey III, but he didn't look angry, so James nodded proudly. "Really?" he seemed almost excited. "I've never seen a deranged revolutionary my age before. Have you really blown up a ship and everything?"
"What?" James squinted at him. "Why would I blow up a ship?"
"Didn't the revolutionaries blow up ships in Boston Harbor in December—and now again, yesterday? General Conway received a message and his soldiers woke up the whole house, but Governess wouldn't tell me why until breakfast."
James, who had never had a governess or a proper house, was temporarily at a loss for words. Thankfully, however, he was not to stay that way. "Um, no one blew up anything. We just threw tea in the river. Well, not just. It was...a lot of tea." he suddenly felt embarrassed by his description. "And we did set one on fire, I think, but not me. And we made sure there was no one on—board."
He had suddenly had the fleeting thought that Sarah had been hiding below deck, and nobody had known it. If he and Moses hadn't been looking, could they have set the Dartmouth aflame with her inside it? He shook his head.
"Besides. One of my...friends was on board. We wouldn't have let...them catch it on fire with someone on board."
"Really?" William Abbey III looked disappointed. "You don't sound deranged."
"That's because I'm not." said James, despairingly. Then he brightened. "Not even a bit. I'm a journalist. What about you?"
"I'm William Abbey III." said William Abbey III. "I don't have a job. My father is the secretary to the Governor. What does your father do for his living?"
James looked away. "He died."
"Oh." said William Abbey III. This appeared to be his favorite word. "My condolences."
James nodded.
"Are you going to be in the army?" asked William Abbey III.
"What?" asked James.
"My father says the deranged revolutionaries are going to create their own army. You shouldn't participate. General Conway says they'll have to be quelled."
James, who was absolutely not going to tell William Abbey III that he didn't know what 'quelled' meant, made a note to ask Sarah later, or Moses. "I wouldn't be a soldier. I told you. I'm a journalist."
"What newspaper do you work for?" asked William Abbey III. When James gave his answer he frowned.
"Do you live in Philadelphia with your mother, than?"
James looked at the fence in between them that only came to their waists. "She died too." eager to change the subject, he continued. "I live with my...friend Dr. Franklin. I work at his printshop. And Moses."
William Abbey III sighed. "I only live with my parents and my older sister and my dog Dash." James noticed how he didn't mention any servants, though there had to be at least a few, and hadn't he mentioned a governess? "And of course General Conway, but he doesn't really say much, just takes his meals with mother and father and lets his soldiers upset things through the house." he said lightly. Obviously William Abbey III had more patience then himself, thought James.
"How does your father feel about the War?" he asked.
"What war?" asked William Abbey III.
"The one with the colonies."
"The colonies want war? Against who?" James looked at William Abbey III like he was daft.
"Against England." Maybe boys who wore lace really were ridiculous.
"The colonies don't want war against England. They's lose! Besides, it's just the deranged revolutionaries that do." William Abbey III seemed quite sure of this. "And it won't come to War."
"Well, I hope it does." said James brightly. "Then we can see who should be in charge of America."
"The colonies would never fight against England." said William Abbey III lightly, as if James had just made a joke.
James was opening his mouth to say something when a woman appeared at the very back of the yard and called for a Master William. William Abbey III glanced back at her.
"I have to go to Governess now." he said. "It was very interesting to meet a deranged revolutionary. Tell that little boy he can keep the toy. I have more than one and it's not very exciting."
"I'm not deranged!" called James, but William Abbey III was already going towards his governess. James shook his head, smiling a little, and sat down next to Henri, who was spinning the wooden hoop on the stick.
Meanwhile
Sarah had been sitting several minutes, less panicked then she thought she would be, when General Conway was lead into the room by the surly footman whom she'd spoken to earlier.
"I should hope," he said immediately upon seeing her, "that this is as important as you have said." Dismissing the footman with his hand, he sat down in a chair opposite from her. Sarah nodded hello.
"What is your name, Miss?" asked the General, looking bored.
"I am honored to be Miss Sarah Phillips." she said, smiling slightly, her eyes still on her hands in her lap. She knew, at least, how to make polite conversation. Thank you, Mother. "I certainly hope I do not find you unwell, sir."
"You find me unprepared." replied General Conway. Sarah prided herself on her ability to guess what people were thinking but she couldn't seem to do so with this man. He was most definitely prepared.
"I met with Colonel Brandon on my way to Boston." she said quickly. He raised an eyebrow. "He asked me to carry a letter to you."
"Oh, yes. I have been waiting for it." The General moved his hand as if waiting to take it.
Sarah took a deep breath. "I haven't got it anymore."
"Whyever not?" asked General Conway. Sarah closed her eyes.
"It was ripped up. By Patriots. Yesterday." she hoped she sounded convincing. "My apologies, sir."
It wasn't a lie, she told herself. Patriots had made her rip it up.
The General was silent for a long time, staring at her.
"Have you any idea of what was in the letter?"
"Colonel Brandon told me." she said, "But I don't know for sure." also not a lie.
The General sighed. "How did they know what was in the letter?"
"I do not know, sir." said Sarah, and hoped he would let her leave.
"There cannot be another made up before the trial of...someone rather important. It would take too long to send over." he folded his hands. "But I am sorry you were attacked this way, Miss Phillips."
Sarah nodded minutely.
"I assume you can see yourself out."
"Yes sir." she curtsied quickly and walked out just as quickly to see James and Henri sitting next to each other. Both leapt up.
"Did it work?" asked James immediately.
"Yes." she took a deep breath. "Yes, it did." they had walked for approximately two minutes when Sarah took notice of Henri's new toys. "Where did you get that?"
"Nowhere." Henri and James said at the same time. If Sarah learned that they had met a loyalist boy and had not hated him, then she would never give it up. Besides, William Abbey III was, James decided, the exception, not the rule.
Meanwhile
Sarah had been sitting several minutes, less panicked then she thought she would be, when General Conway was lead into the room by the surly footman whom she'd spoken to earlier.
"I should hope," he said immediately upon seeing her, "that this is as important as you have said." Dismissing the footman with his hand, he sat down in a chair opposite from her. Sarah nodded hello.
"What is your name, Miss?" asked the General, looking bored.
"I am honored to be Miss Sarah Phillips." she said, smiling slightly, her eyes still on her hands in her lap. She knew, at least, how to make polite conversation. Thank you, Mother. "I certainly hope I do not find you unwell, sir."
"You find me unprepared." replied General Conway. Sarah prided herself on her ability to guess what people were thinking but she couldn't seem to do so with this man. He was most definitely prepared.
"I met with Colonel Brandon on my way to Boston." she said quickly. He raised an eyebrow. "He asked me to carry a letter to you."
"Oh, yes. I have been waiting for it." The General moved his hand as if waiting to take it.
Sarah took a deep breath. "I haven't got it anymore."
"Whyever not?" asked General Conway. Sarah closed her eyes.
"It was ripped up. By Patriots. Yesterday." she hoped she sounded convincing. "My apologies, sir."
It wasn't a lie, she told herself. Patriots had made her rip it up.
The General was silent for a long time, staring at her.
"Have you any idea of what was in the letter?"
"Colonel Brandon told me." she said, "But I don't know for sure." also not a lie.
The General sighed. "How did they know what was in the letter?"
"I do not know, sir." said Sarah, and hoped he would let her leave.
"There cannot be another made up before the trial of...someone rather important. It would take too long to send over." he folded his hands. "But I am sorry you were attacked this way, Miss Phillips."
Sarah nodded minutely.
"I assume you can see yourself out."
"Yes sir." she curtsied quickly and walked out just as quickly to see James and Henri sitting next to each other. Both leapt up.
"Did it work?" asked James immediately.
"Yes." she took a deep breath. "Yes, it did." they had walked for approximately two minutes when Sarah took notice of Henri's new toys. "Where did you get that?"
"Nowhere." Henri and James said at the same time. If Sarah learned that they had met a loyalist boy and had not hated him, then she would never give it up. Besides, a Great War was the only way, James decided, to end tyranny. Absolutely the only way.
Oi, comrades, sorry for no updates! Hopefully this extra long chapter made up for it. So I didn't think I'd have to say this for a while but...
We're coming to an end of Firebrand. In fact, I'm pretty sure there's only one chapter left. I might put up an Epilouge—if you want, reveiw/message me and leave your opinion about it! So thank you to all my reviewers and readers who helped me to improve, it's been lots of fun writing. :)