Part I

THE DECEIT

In late July of the year seventeen hundred and fifty-seven, Albany was a sweltering bustling trade outpost inhabited by some three thousand or so burghers and as many or more quartered troops. It was a dirty practical provincial town filled with serious men and keen eyed women. Unease simmered beneath the foundations of the place, not yet mature and still cautious. Fifty miles to the north Colonel Daniel Webb commanded Fort Edward; and a further seventeen miles north of that place, at the southernmost tip of Lake George, oft called the gateway to the north, Lieutenant-Colonel George Monro commanded the garrison of Fort William-Henry.

It was then, on the twenty-ninth of July just before sunset, that a runner from Fort Edward arrived in Albany. This was of itself no strange occurrence and was heralded generally only by the group of young children and loafers who followed the Ranger from the North Gate to the fort on the western side of the town and then later by the men of the town in the taverns that night as they discussed the war and the state of affairs at Fort William-Henry which had been relayed in one of the messages. But in addition to several official messages the runner had also borne two letters addressed to "Miss Monro residing on Beaver Street in Mr. Hilton's establishment."

Accordingly, after the Ranger had delivered the more pertinent of his mail to the Fort he appeared at the door of Mr. Hilton's inn. He knocked and was admitted and shown into the room where the Miss Monro's and their young brother were taking their supper.

The women were laughing at some story the boy had told them, but cut off when the door opened. After bowing appropriately he drew out the letters and addressed the women conversationally.

"Two letters, ma'am. I've just come from Edward." He smiled and handed the slips over to the elder of the two women, who had risen to greet him. The Ranger continued, "One from the Commander there"—he tapped that letter—"and another brought from Fort William-Henry."

She inspected the two letters and then tucked them away in her skirt. "You came all the way from the lake, Private?" she inquired, absently.

"No'm, only from Fort Edward. But I know the man who brought the letters from the lake. A good man, honest. He's a trapper, knows every inch of this land like it were his—nevermind that," he interrupted himself apologetically when he noted her raised brow. Blushing hotly he added, "He took a contract with the army to run their messages now and then, a good man."

Miss Monro smiled a little and thanked him. The Ranger nodded, blushed again, bowed, and bade them farewell.

After he had let himself out and the door was once more shut, Miss Monro seated herself coolly. When she made no immediate move to open either missive and instead lifted her glass to her lips and drank, her brother, who had been squirming in his seat the whole time the Ranger had been speaking with his sister, blurted out, "Cora, aren't you going to read us what father sent?"

The two sisters, one tall and dark and the other pale and slight like a sunbeam, shared a glance over his head.

"Do, Cora, read it, it might be more pertinent than we know. It isn't often Father has the resources to send us news himself," the younger sister urged.

Cora withdrew the two letters and lay them on the cloth. "Anna," she instructed, "go fetch my paperknife from the drawer of the secretary." The maidservant stepped out of the corner and slipped out the door.

"Alice," she continued, "have you any thought why Colonel Webb might address us so personally? I find there are few matters that could justify it." This was accompanied by another significant look.

Alice swallowed and dabbed her lips with her kerchief before she replied.

"I can't imagine what he means by it," she agreed brusquely. "Did you hear what Widow Schulyer said yesterday about—"

"Father's dead," Will interjected flatly.

Alice closed her mouth with a sharp press of her lips and Cora dropped her fork. It clattered against her plate and stuck into the pudding.

"You both were thinking it," he continued in a more subdued manner.

Gathering herself, Cora spoke. "We none of us know what is in either letter," she rebuked firmly, "and we shall not be hasty in our conclusions until we have opened them and read them in whole."

More softly, Alice reached out and took Will's hand. She stroked it and added, "Be of good cheer, darling, we must hope for the best and trust in our Great Protector to watch over Papa. Finish your supper."

He picked up his fork and speared a slice of pork. He lifted it to his mouth and ate it pointedly. Alice looked down at her own plate. The door creaked open and all three of them looked up, breathing a collective sigh of relief when only the maidservant appeared.

"The paperknife, miss," the girl announced as she handed the implement over.

"Thank you, Anna, you may go now," Cora said strainedly. "I will call you if we have need of you again." She nodded in dismissal.

The girl curtsied and left.

When Cora made no move to actually open the missives, Alice gestured slightly to the letters. As if pulled from some far off thought, Cora gathered herself and nodded decisively.

"God keep us," she whispered below her breath as she picked up the painstaking care, she cut open the correspondence from Colonel Webb. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly so that she nicked her left knuckle, but the knife drew no blood. Then, as her sister and brother watched her face with baited breath, she read the beginning of short note in silence. Her face cleared. With a relieved sigh she lowered her still shaking hand to the table.

"Well, what does he write?" Alice asked impatiently. She leaned over the table. "Is all well? Are the officers coming for a visit?—Oh what a fright we got, he ought to be ashamed to act so ominously!"

Cora laughed breathlessly, both at the receding fright and at her sister's sudden exuberance. "It is hardly a note of condolences."

Alice and Will wilted in their seats with sighs of relief.

"Thank the Lord!"—then—"Then why does he write?"

Cora picked the letter up a second time, this time to read it in full. "It is dated July Twenty-Eight, at Three of the clock. Hmm,"—she shook her head in bewilderment—"The Colonel writes that he has arranged with our father for us to accompany the Company of the Sixtieth Regiment that is marching to Fort Edward on the Thirtieth Instant––that is tomorrow. They have arranged for us to be escorted by a Captain Hayward." Her voice trailed off. She looked up at her sister. "I do not understand at all. This is nonsense."

She tossed the letter down for a second time.

"Captain Hayward?" Alice exclaimed and she snatched up the discarded note.

While Alice read it, Core snatched up the one the Ranger had directed was from Fort William-Henry. She slashed it open with little care and scoured it for clarity. Her eyes darted hither and thither across the unfamiliar scrawl. "I don't understand," she said.

"What does it say, Cora?" Will asked, sliding off of his seat and coming to stand at her shoulder.

Cora stared at the paper in silence as she reread it. Alice rose impatiently and snatched up this letter also. "'My Loves,'" she read aloud, "'I adjure you to be of good cheer. I am sending for you to come to me. It has been too long since I have seen your faces and as the Anniversary of your mother's death is approaching I desire to see you all'—da da da—'I have arranged with the commander of Fort Edward for an escort to be provided for you. He tells me that a Company of the Sixtieth will be marching to join him soon and will pass through Albany. The captain of that Regiment will bring you to Fort Edward and the Colonel will arrange the rest of the matter.' I do not understand it."

"Read on," Cora instructed, and she returned to her dinner with all the enthusiasm of one who had resigned themselves to eating because it was a mandatory aspect of life. She nudged Will to return to his plate.

Alice complied silently, to Will's consternation, but suddenly exclaimed, "What does he mean 'I hope to find Whilhelm has grown another inch'? He's never called Will by his full name since he was christened. And why did he never write to you to discuss the matter?"

"Read on," Cora repeated without turning her head.

"He writes as though he had, but we received no such letters."

"Read on."

"'From that you have not answered the letter I sent upon the Twenty-Fifth I must conclude that the messenger that carried your reply must have met an unhappy end or else it was lost somewhere between Albany and this place. As this is the case and matters have proceeded in such ways that I have found it necessary to make such arrangements without confirming your approval, which I am sure I have, I hope you will forgive me.'—Perhaps in the midst of the confusion after Jersey Blues were ambushed on the twenty-sixth the letter was lost?" Alice suggested.

"I do not know, it is all very strange," Cora agreed, "but I did hear that there was a Company just come in that is bound for Edward tomorrow. We must pack what we deem necessary and be ready whenever Captain Hayward appears, most likely very early tomorrow. Call Anna to help us pack and I shall speak with Dennis."

Alice nodded, relinquishing the letter to Cora and going in search of the maidservant.

After Alice was gone, Cora and Will were left staring at each other over the supper course. Finally Cora spoke. "Well, it will be quite the adventure will it not?"

He looked uncertainly at Cora before nodding. "Yes, sister."

Then, eagerly—"I'll see the boats again, do you think the George will be complete?"

"That's my lad." She laughed. "Perhaps it will; come with me?"

He nodded and together they went in search of the menservants and the innkeeper.

Matters were quickly settled with the menservants concerning their transportation, though both had looked at her askance and Dennis's usually cheerful expression had settled into a deep scowl and she had heard Billy let loose several oaths when he had thought she and Will were out of earshot.

~‹›~

"It really is odd that he writes 'Whilhelm' instead of 'Will,'"Alice commented as brushed her hair before bed. "But, perhaps, considering the twenty-sixth he is not thinking of endearments," she suggested, weakly.

It was a poor explanation, but Cora did not object to it, they both knew it was all they had. "If not for the circumstances I would look forward to it, the country is very beautiful."

Alice huffed. "And so very very humid, it is nigh seventy miles between here and the lake and even a single company shall move quite slowly. Accommodations at Edward shall be miserable, no propper beds, there is a reason the Colonel rents rooms here for so much of the season."

Cora smiled as she tied off her own braid. "It's not truly that horrid Alice, it will be nice to be on horseback again, I have missed it."

A laugh and a murmured "Only you, dear sister" was the only response she received before Alice blew out the candle and the room was steeped in darkness.

"Good night," Cora whispered across the room.