0 comments/ 2989 views/ 0 favorites The Fall of York Ch. 49-57 By: nicecthulhu Thank you to searchingforperfection and catbrown for their hard work in editing and all of their suggestions. I appreciate all votes and comments, and I do read all the comments. This story is a sequel to The Doctor's Daughter. Both are set during the War of 1812. Since the death of Major General Brock in the fall of 1812, neither side has scored a decisive victory. There have been minor accomplishments for both the Americans and the British, but the War Hawks in Washington are eager for more promising actions that will validate Jefferson's boasts that the conquest of Canada is "a mere matter of marching". In the spring of 1813 Major General Henry Dearborn is ordered to lead his forces in an attack on Kingston, Ontario. He considers those orders and then attacks the town of York (later known as Toronto), instead. 49 The watching crowd was aghast. Many of them stared at John with open hostility. Some stared at Abigail and Millie as the former held the younger woman in a tight grip, keeping her from running to Jacob. Others stared sadly at the dead or dying duellist, as he lay on the muddy roadway. No-one noticed the odd look on Reverend Strachan's face as he watched Millie struggle to free herself from Mrs. Orr. "That was murder!" Everyone except the two struggling women turned their heads to see Mr. Croyden point an accusing finger at John. "Nonsense!" responded the young man, waving his pistol for everyone to see. "It misfired! It was just an accident...or God's will!" he added with a smile. "I've been proven innocent!" Strachan turned back to the struggling women and watched as Millie, tears on her cheeks, suddenly swung around and faced Mrs. Orr with a look of bewilderment. "What?" she asked the older woman, in a voice that only Strachan was close enough to hear. "He's not dead. The shot hit him in the wrong place. Give him a few more seconds, Millie," whispered Abigail. The Reverend's eyes grew big and he stared intently at Jacob's body. The young man's left hand clenched. Strachan quickly concealed the smile that came to his face. "John!" he shouted, drawing everyone's attention. "John, do you accept that the outcome of this duel is God's will?" "Of course I do! Look, my opponent lies there dead by the hand of God and I am fit and unpunished." He held up his arms in victory. "Everything I said about Millie was the truth and those who said I lied were themselves uttering falsehoods!" Some in the crowd were nodding their heads in agreement. Strachan marked each one of them as fools. "Then, behold!" Strachan shouted in triumph. "For it appears that God's work is not yet done!" The Reverend turned to stare at Jacob, who was slowly pushing himself to a sitting position. People in the crowd shouted their amazement to see this miracle before them. Mr. Croyden slowly walked over to Jacob and offered his hand to help him up. The crowd could see a blood stain on the American's shirt, high on his chest and near his left shoulder. Jacob looked about, uncomfortable with the intensity of the attention upon him. Mr. Croyden stared at the young man, astonished to see such a quick recovery in someone he thought to be dead. Strachan came over to the pair. "Are you fit to continue, young man?" he asked. Jacob looked about the assembly. Many in the crowd were eager for him to finish the duel, and they nodded their heads. He looked to his opponent and saw John was white as a ghost. He sought out Millie and saw her standing with her mistress, who kept a tight grip on her arm. Millie was crying and smiling, something Jacob had never seen before. Meeting his eyes, she shook her head vigorously. Jacob looked down at the pistol in his right hand. It appeared to still hold its charge and ball. His shoulder pained him greatly, but the physical pain was meaningless compared to the damage to Millie's reputation that John had done. He knew it could mean Millie's ire, but he had to go through with the duel or John would think himself the victor and continue his slander. "I am," he said in a clear voice. "This cannot be!" shouted John. "What witchcraft is this? How can he still live? I aimed for his heart!" Then he realized what he had admitted and clamped his mouth shut. He felt the angry glares that were cast upon him. "Mr. Croyden, please reload his pistol," stated Jacob. "No. I am arbiter and I have decided that John fired his shot. Now it is your turn, son." He patted Jacob's right shoulder. Then he looked to the crowd. "Do any object?" "I do!" cried out Millie. "I don't want someone to die over this! And Jacob needs doctoring! Mrs. Orr?" she asked, turning to her mistress with desperate eyes. Strachan raised his arms for silence as muttering began amongst the crowd. Once all whispering had ended, he lowered his arms and then adjusted his minister's robes. "My child," he began in as kind a voice as he could muster, "this is a matter between men. And while the loss of any life is regrettable, two men have agreed to meet with pistols and none may deny them." Millie tried to argue, but Abigail quickly hushed her. "So everyone's going to let him murder me?" cried out John. All eyes were back on him. John threw down his unloaded pistol in disgust. "I'm sorry that the pistol misfired, American. I'm unarmed now so you cannot shoot me, can you?" Jacob raised his pistol to his shoulder. "Admit your crimes against Millie and I will not fire my pistol, John." John licked his lips and wondered if it were possible that he would get out of this relatively unscathed Then a voice from the crowd called out, "And what of Pierre?" John's heart left him. His eyes grew big and sweat beaded upon his face. He knew that admitting to his slander against Millie would not free him from potential punishment from the other accusation. "The American offered to let me reload my pistol. He knew that it was a simple misfire." John looked about for any supporters and found none. "I have decided..." began Mr. Croyden, angrily. "Let him reload the pistol," called out Jacob, massaging his left shoulder. The crowd stared at him in wonder. "Do it!" commanded Jacob. A smirk came to his face at the thought that he, a simple American soldier, was commanding all of these Canadians. Croyden grudgingly went over to John with the box for the pistols. "I'll do it myself," snarled John. "I don't trust someone who's clearly against me." After a few minutes, John stood alone with the pistol on his shoulder and Mr. Croyden was asking each man if he were ready. Both agreed that they were. "Very well. Aim!" Both men pointed their pistol at their opponent. Jacob wondered if he had been foolish in giving John another chance to murder him. "F-" began Mr. Croyden. There was a loud crack from John's pistol and a puff of black smoke shot out. Jacob pulled the trigger on his own pistol, hoping that if he were hit by John's second attempt at killing him then he might somehow slay the villain with a lucky shot. White smoke concealed Jacob's hand and hid John from his view. He took a deep breath and realized he had not felt the impact of any ball. The smoke cleared and he saw John, opposite him, with his hand on his throat. The large man fell to his knees and the pistol fell from his limp fingers and splashed into the mud. John pointed an accusing finger at him and then fell face first onto the roadway. Blood quickly filled a shallow depression in the mud by his head. 50 "...and that's when I rode up?" Lawrence rubbed his chin in thought. "It's an astounding sequence of events." He walked over to where Abigail was seated and put a hand on her shoulder. She tipped her head and rubbed it against his arm. "If I may intrude," suggested Reverend Strachan, "I would like to know, Mrs. Orr, why you were so positive that Jacob had not been killed." He leaned forward eagerly, as did Mr. Croyden and Millie. Abigail sat up straight in her chair and glanced at Jacob. "Well...I did spend years assisting my father whenever a patient came home and I am an avaricious reader. I've been through all of his medical books at least three times. I saw where the ball went in and realized that, barring a strange deflection against a bone, the ball was going to miss all the vital organs and arteries." Millie clapped her hands gleefully and Abigail frowned at her. "She nursed me back to health after I was sorely wounded at Queenston Heights, Reverend," added Lawrence. "You were with Isaac Brock?" "I saw him die, shot by an American skulking in the trees," stated Lawrence, and then he gave Jacob an apologetic look. "I see," replied Strachan. "I also see that, however unlikely, your wife was able to make an accurate diagnosis of Jacob's condition." Lawrence and Abigail shared a look and then she reached up to her shoulder and closed her hand over his. "Ahem." Everyone turned to Mr. Croyden, who had been silent and thoughtful for the entire visit. "I think it quite reasonable that Mrs. Orr could learn medicine and make an instantaneous diagnosis on this brave young man." "A woman doctor?" scoffed the Minister and everyone except for Mr. Croyden chuckled at the idea. "You might as well tell me that one day men will go to the Moon!" At that, Mr. Croyden rose from his chair, chuckling. "Reverend, you are a learned man. However, I am quite a bit older than you and I would like to point out that things change, often in surprising ways. If you had told me forty years ago that a few upstart colonials would rise up against the British Empire and forge a new nation, then I probably would have laughed at you. If you had told me that two generations later that same new nation would engage in an aggressive war against the mightiest Empire ever seen, then too, I would have laughed at you." Mr. Croyden took his leave and then Reverend Strachan rose to his feet. "It has been a very eventful day, Captain Orr. Might I suggest that young Jacob be moved to another residence as soon as possible?" Lawrence looked at his guest in confusion until his eyes followed the Minister's nod, bringing both Millie and Jacob into his gaze. The American soldier and Upper Canadian maid could not take their eyes off of each other. "Ah, your point is well taken and I shall work on that immediately after dinner. Thank you for your help in everything, sir." Strachan hesitated at the door. "Captain, I must be blunt. Do you intend to be a life-long military man?" "No." "When you do leave the King's service, please come to me and I will find something to keep you busy." The Reverend waved his hat at everyone and left. Lawrence watched him walk to the road. The scene looked so different now than when he had rode up in such haste. The crowd was gone and John's corpse had been taken away by his family. A cool spring rain was falling and John's blood had already been washed away. 51 "I've bandaged him, but I wasn't able to remove the ball. He's young and healthy, although his back still troubles him a little and will continue to do so for a few months. He likes to keep busy and will do any task that you set him," finished Abigail. Mr. Croyden grabbed Jacob's hand and shook it. "We're happy to have you staying with us, son. And the same rules that applied here apply at our home. If you decide to leave, just say goodbye. You are no prisoner, Jacob." "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Croyden, but do I really have to go?" he asked his former captor. Lawrence hesitated and glanced at Millie. She looked sad, but had not shed a tear over the fact that the American was leaving their home. "Yes, you really have to go. You know that our houses are separated by less than one hundred yards. You're welcome to come and visit whenever you wish." Millie and Jacob both perked up at that statement. Jacob held out his hand and Lawrence took it. "I do wish to thank both you and your wife. You've been very courteous and I'd like to say I really wish our two nations were not at war with each other." He turned to Millie. "I hope to see you soon, miss." The dark-haired maid blushed and kept silent, unsure of what to say to a man who had fought for her but had not proclaimed his desire to woo her. She wondered whether he did actually have feelings for her or was he just an honourable man defending a woman's reputation? The Croydens escorted him out of the Orr home and Abigail put Millie hard to work right away. "Don't you think she needs some time alone to think things through?" Lawrence asked his wife once the maid left the room. "She knows what is on her mind, husband. She looks at Jacob like there's nothing in her thoughts but him. Hard work and plenty of it will keep her mind from dwelling on him too much. Give me a day or two and then I'll ease up on her. Why, I even think there might be a social gathering at the church this Saturday," she added innocently, although Lawrence recognized the truth immediately. "And you might happen to take Millie?" "I might. And, coincidentally, Mrs. Croyden mentioned she might just bring along Jacob to help out at the church that day..." "You only have three days to plan before Saturday, my dear," said Lawrence, putting his arms around Abigail. "So, you and Mrs. Croyden are going to cooperate to ensure the courtship proceeds smoothly?" His wife just chuckled. "I'll have to leave before that." Abigail's chuckle was silenced. 52 Lawrence found himself smiling several times over the next couple of days, as he watched his wife give Millie many make-work chores. Millie caught on quickly, but did not complain or even frown about being told to repeat chores. On the third day, Lawrence handed over some money to his wife and she went off to purchase a new bonnet. Millie was very surprised when Abigail gave her the frilly and feminine hair covering. She was even more surprised when Abigail announced that Millie was invited to the church social, not to help set up and serve, but as her guest. Lawrence left after lunch, after much fretting and shows of affection from Abigail. Once again, his heart felt heavy as he mounted his horse and rode off to war. The excitement of battle no longer compared to the charms of his beloved wife. Saturday came at last and the two women prepared themselves to depart and then, much to Millie's surprise, simply sat and waited. Millie was loathe to question her mistress about this mystery and she spent her idle time patiently wondering whether any of the other women would deign to talk to her. Servants were never invited to these social events. After an interminable duration there was a knock on their door and Abigail and Millie jumped to their feet. Abigail smirked at Millie and then winked. Wondering what was going on, Millie opened the door and was shocked to see Jacob standing before her in his freshly repaired uniform. He looked ill at ease until he realized Millie was standing before him. "Uhm..." was all he could say. "Jacob! What in the world are you doing here?" asked the maid in astonishment. "Millie, is that how we greet a guest?" chided Abigail. She nodded at Mr and Mrs. Croyden, who she could see standing behind Jacob. "Sorry, ma'am. Yes, sir? What can I do for you?" Millie began again. "I was asked to inquire if anyone at the Orr home..." his eyes took in Millie's new bonnet and how it didn't quite contain all of her long dark hair. He took a deep breath. "Mr. and Mrs. Croyden asked me to inquire if anyone in the Orr home was planning on going to the church social." "Why yes, young sir," said Abigail from behind Millie. "Young Miss Gray and I were just about to leave for the church. May we walk with you?" "Yes, of course, Mrs. Orr," called out Mrs. Croyden as her husband shook his head and rolled his eyes, "we shall be glad for the company." Abigail introduced Millie to the Croydens as if they had never met before and then Mr. Croyden introduced Jacob to Abigail and Millie. Jacob bowed to each of the women with a serious look on his face. Millie was perplexed by the whole affair. "Why don't you young folks walk together ahead of us, while the Croydens and I chat?" offered Abigail. Jacob offered his arm to Millie and the two walked slowly to the church. Mrs. Croyden walked between her husband and Abigail. "They're not simpletons. You two know that they're both clever enough to deduce the cause of what is happening?" asked Mr. Croyden. "Hush," replied his wife. "They're not quite far enough ahead yet that voices wouldn't carry from one group to another," she whispered. "Besides, they are young and naive and it's a fine spring day," whispered Abigail. "How has Jacob been?" "Fine. Fine. He's a great help with the heavier chores and my old arms have appreciated the rest. He's never idle. You said he's from a farming family?" asked Mr. Croyden. "Yes." "Well, he's not as lazy as many of the men his age that I've encountered. I swear I don't know what will become of this world. Many of the young people today just don't want to put in a decent day's work and want everything handed to them on a silver plate." Mr. Croyden removed his hat and ran his fingers through his sparse white hair. "John the smith's son seemed to be an example of that," noted Mrs. Croyden. "He rarely seemed to be working at his father's smithy." As they walked, they talked of Captain Orr, how the war was progressing and the animated and energetic Reverend Strachan. They greeted neighbours and briefly said hello, but they always kept an eye on Millie and Jacob to ensure they did not wander too far from their chaperones. 53 The church social did not progress as Abigail and Mrs. Croyden had hoped. They both were discouraged to note that Millie and Jacob separated shortly after stepping on to the church lawn. The Reverend took Jacob away to help with various tasks, while a gaggle of young women surrounded Millie and pestered her with dozens of questions. Abigail felt the need to intervene and get the two young people together again, but Mrs. Croyden cautioned her against any direct action. She suggested allowing Millie to bask in her sudden popularity. There would be other opportunities to bring the two together. By the time the afternoon function had ended, both Millie and Jacob had been depleted of their youthful energy. Abigail bid farewell to the Croydens and left for home with Millie beside her. The younger woman talked excitedly about the social event and the new friends she had made. While nodding and smiling, Abigail wondered if the attachment between Millie and Jacob was less strong than she had thought, because the American was not mentioned once. Over the next few weeks, Abigail grew more and more concerned over Millie's seeming indifference to Jacob. She did not ask to visit the Croydens, nor did she mention taking a day off for her own purposes. Not once did Jacob call on their home. One morning, Abigail entered the parlour and spied Millie staring out the east-facing window with a wistful look on her face. "Millie?" The maid was startled and dropped the cloth that she was supposed to be cleaning with. Abigail recalled that the Croydens' house was visible through that particular window. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I was just daydreaming and I won't let it happen again." Millie began to busy herself with cleaning tables and shelves. Abigail frowned and then sat on the couch. "Millie, stop what you're doing and come here. We need to have a talk." The maid set down the cloth, walked over to her mistress and then sat on the same couch. "Yes, ma'am." Abigail pondered what right she had to intrude into this girl's private affairs. She and Lawrence had taken her into their home as their maid, but were readying her for a better life than otherwise would have been possible for her. She was more than a servant, but less than a ward. While Millie stared at her with uncertainty, Abigail resolved to meddle and see if she could somehow put right what had gone wrong between her maid and the American. The Fall of York Ch. 49-57 "Millie. You haven't asked to visit the Croydens." "No, ma'am." "Well, why not?" "They would never invite me." Millie looked confused. "Yes, but you might pay your respects so that you could see someone else there." "You mean Jacob." "Yes, girl." Abigail fumed and wondered why Millie was being so obtuse. "I have no reason to contact Jacob." Abigail closed her eyes and counted to ten. "Have I done something wrong, ma'am?" "No. Well, yes...perhaps. Are you not fond of Jacob?" Millie blushed and looked away. "Yes. I am forced to admit that I am very fond of him." "Then why do you not wish to see him?" Millie turned back to Abigail. "Oh, because we are not matched." "Excuse me?" "Well, ma'am, I am just a maid with no family and Jacob comes from a large family and will own property one day. I could never hope to..." "Wherever did you get that silly idea?" asked Abigail. Millie's eyes opened wide. "Why...at the church social, ma'am. Some of the girls I was talking with explained it all to me. He'll marry a farmer or craftsman's daughter. I'll likely marry another servant." Abigail put a hand over her eyes. "These girls that were telling you this, were they the daughters of farmers and craftsmen?" "I suppose..." "And did they make comments about how handsome Jacob is or how brave Jacob had been in duelling with John?" "Why yes..." Millie's brow furrowed as she followed her employer's reasoning. Abigail took Millie's hand in her own and stared into the young woman's eyes. "You have never really had a friend before, have you?" Millie shook her head. "They were removing you as a rival, my dear. They each want this dashing, exotic and heroic Yankee soldier for themselves. They know the war won't go on forever..." "They lied to me?" "Well, not exactly lied to you. Normally, a farmer would be looking for a wife among those with a similar background so she could help with the farm work. But, surely you've seen that Jacob has a special attachment to you?" Millie nodded. "I had begun to think I was mistaken." Abigail brushed a wayward strand of hair back under Millie's cap. "You really have had a rough life, haven't you? Even when things seem to be going well, you expect that something bad will happen. I know you're a woman, but sometimes you almost seem like a child, Millie." The two sat silently for a minute or two. "So, what should I do, ma'am?" "Speak plainly to me, for one thing. Also, be yourself. Jacob developed an affection for you. Mrs. Croyden and I will arrange events to allow the two of you conversation time." 54 Lawrence was standing in the hot July sun, taking a brief break from paperwork and watching several soldiers slowly put up a tent. "Orr! Get in here!" bellowed the Major General, from inside the building. Lawrence wiped his brow and went back inside. The stone building was like a sweat lodge; Major General De Rottenburg had ordered all the windows closed upon his arrival on a hot yet rainy day and had never rescinded the command. Captain Orr stood at attention just outside his commander's office and waited to be noticed. The Major General did not look up from his desk. "I've told you before that as my aide you may come and go from my office as you please and that you are not required to salute me, Captain." "Sorry, sir. I'm still not used to this new position." Lawrence relaxed and stepped into the room. "Help yourself to a drink of brandy and have a seat," De Rottenburg not-quite commanded him. After a few seconds, Lawrence sat in front of the desk and set his drink on the floor beside his chair. "I want you to go over those reports," said the Major General, pointing at a pile of papers. "I'll need you to estimate enemy forces and positions before we head to York. Trouble is brewing and I don't think the Americans are going to keep the peace for much longer." Lawrence grabbed the papers from the desk and waited. His commander was in his forties, at least ten years older than he was, and he had subtle ways that Brock and Sheaffe had lacked. The commander of all of Upper Canada's forces set down his quill and sat back. He rubbed his eyes. "I swear, Lawrence, that this paperwork seems to get worse every year. There once was a time when a Major General jumped on a horse and simply led his men to battle, but it seems like I have a thousand forms to fill out for every enemy soldier spotted by our scouts!" Lawrence remained silent. De Rottenburg stared at his subordinate, took a drink from his own glass and then stared at Lawrence for a few more seconds. "So Brock promoted you and Sheaffe didn't know what to do with you." "Yes, sir." "My aide arrives tomorrow from Montreal, Captain." "I see, sir." "So I'm not sure what to do with you. I could promote you to Major and put you in the field, I suppose. We have a surplus of Captains right now. Or I could send you to Montreal." Lawrence's face betrayed his emotions. "Yes, I thought you'd be unhappy with that option. You have a new wife, and a young and pretty one at that, from what I've heard." "Sir," Lawrence put a little warning into the word. "I meant no offence, Captain. I see no harm in a soldier having an interest in women. From what I've read and heard, Brock himself had quite an interest in women. And he was quite a soldier." The Major General opened a drawer and pulled out a letter. "I don't suppose you know who sent this to Prevost, do you?" "Sir? Perhaps if I read it I might be able to tell you..." "No, no. I don't mean that. I mean did you know that a Reverend John Strachan has been sending letters to Sir George Prevost. I don't like it when some meddling minister from a barbaric colony sends communiquŽs to the Governor of the Canadas suggesting certain actions be taken. This Strachan was instrumental in having my predecessor removed from this post." "I wasn't aware of that, sir." De Rottenburg raised a suspicious eyebrow at Lawrence's comment. "Well, Strachan has suggested that you were of great use after the Americans left York. 'Single-handedly organized the rebuilding of the fort' and 'bolstered the morale of the community and reminded all loyal subjects of the King's continuing interest' and it goes on. He also stirred Prevost's romantic side with his description of your 'young wife, waiting at home for her husband to return from his duties'." Lawrence was beginning to feel even warmer. "Sir? I did what I had to, sir. I, uhm, I kept busy, but there were many citizens in York eager to put spades in the earth once the Yankees sailed away." "Well it seems as if the people of York need your help. Strachan has strongly suggested that there's a position for you, whether as a magistrate or a member of the legislature I don't know. But very interesting and powerful people have co-signed his letter and Prevost believes that you might better serve the King by leaving military service." "Retirement, sir? But I'm a young man..." "You're to be brevetted to Major upon retirement. Prevost is sending along a colourful explanation of what he expects from you once you begin your civilian life. Apparently, Brock had some problems with some of the leading citizens of York and you're going there to make sure that type of thing doesn't happen again." "I...on one hand, sir, I'm shocked and hurt that my career is finished so early. On the other hand, I will admit that I would like to see my wife more than I currently do. And York was beginning to feel like home." "Very good, Captain-I'm sorry, Major. I trust that I'll have your support if I try to pass some vital piece of legislation?" "Of course, sir." "You do know that you've managed to attract the notice of powerful people, including Governor Prevost? I suspect you will be a man of some stature in Upper Canada, once the Americans give up on this damned and foolish war." Lawrence took a deep breath. "I will always honour my rank and the trust that others have put in me, sir." The Major General stood and offered his hand. Lawrence hesitated a couple of seconds and then rose and shook hands. 55 Lawrence rode calmly into York several days later. A few faces turned his way and then looked behind him for further signs of the rest of the British army, but the streets were fairly deserted due to the hot afternoon sun. He hadn't realized that Upper Canada could become so hot. The air seemed to sit heavy everywhere and his body was bathed in sweat. He briefly stopped at a trough and allowed the horse to drink its fill. Then he urged it further down the road, to his home. Millie saw him first, her mouth dropping open in complete surprise. She sprang from her gardening and ran into the house. He marvelled that she had so much vitality in the heat and humidity. A few seconds later, Abigail emerged from the house with her blonde hair hanging down her face and neck. "Is everything all right?" she asked him. "Everything is fine, my love. I've been retired and brevetted to Major. It seems Sir George Prevost and some others have different plans for my future. I'll tell you all about it once I'm inside and wearing cooler clothes. Are you well?" He dismounted and handed the reigns to a bewildered Millie, who had chastely kept her cap on while doing garden work. Abigail gave him an odd smile. "Perfect, husband, and overjoyed to see you honourably home and safe. I..." She took a step toward him and then glanced across the road. Lawrence followed her eyes and saw some people on a wagon. He looked back at Abigail and saw her nervously fingering her uncovered hair. "Get inside, wife, before someone mistakes you for a woman who misses her husband!" She gave him a happy smile and walked back into their home. "Millie, give my steed some grass, water and a couple of apples or carrots. There'll be some soldiers along in the next day or so to collect him." Millie curtsied, and then urged the horse around to the shade beneath a tree, on the west side of the house. Lawrence watched her go and then went into the house, unbuttoning his shirt as he went. Abigail was nowhere to be seen. He went up the stairs and as he did so, he heard his wife in their room opening drawers and moving about. Entering their bedroom, he spied Abigail sitting on their bed, waiting for him. He gave her a smile and then slowly began to peel off his clothing. She had thoughtfully laid out clean, dry clothes for him. As he undressed, he told her of the conversation between himself and the new Major General. She showed no emotion throughout his tale. "Well, Abigail? What do you think of this turn of events?" "I think I'd like to hear your impressions of it first," she said, strangely overcautious. "I'd say it's a change for the better. I'll be home with you more often. I'll still be serving the King, but in a way that is less likely to worry you. I had begun to lose my taste for battle recently." Abigail leapt to her feet. "Then we are in complete agreement, husband. And we now have an inkling as to the good Reverend's intentions for you. I doubt you'd be given a seat in the legislature, and without any experience as a barrister I don't see how a position as magistrate would be possible. Perhaps someone intends you to become an officer in the militia?" He stood still, sweat pouring off of his bare neck and shoulders. "Perhaps you are correct, my love. We'll see what is to come without the help of any amateur prophets." Abigail brushed a moist strand of blonde hair from her cheek. "Lawrence, stay bare a little longer. I'll be right back with some cool water." She left the room and he heard her descend the stairs and then call for Millie. There was a brief exchange and then silence. He continued to disrobe until he stood naked in their bedroom. There was a slight breeze from the open window, but it only cooled him a little. Lawrence wondered how the Indians kept cool in this weather, aside from running around practically naked. Then he recollected the day Abigail's younger sister took him to the swimming hole and he chuckled. He heard his wife ascending the stairs. A few seconds later, she entered their bedroom carrying a bucket full of water. He arched an eyebrow at her and was about to say something to her, but then she glanced at the wood floor, shook her head and left the room. She returned a few moments later with some bedding and a couple of towels. Abigail set the bedding on the floor and then instructed her husband to stand in the middle of it. Lawrence did so and watched as his wife drew a sponge from the water, squeezed much of the water out and then came toward him. "A chill can make you ill, but so can too much heat." She applied the sponge across his upper chest and shoulders, squeezing it against his flesh and the cool water ran down him in rivulets. Lawrence sighed in relief. Abigail, her face serious, then wet the sponge again and applied it to his back. "That feels wonderful, Abigail. You sent Millie to the Wilson's well?" Abigail began to work on his arms. "It is closest and they offered to let us use it whenever we desired." She plunged the sponge into the bucket and then lifted it and squeezed the excess water from it again. A small amount of water fountained on to her throat and chest. "That does feel refreshing, doesn't it?" "Yes. I'll wash you down once you're finished with me," Lawrence said. She glanced at his face and then rubbed the sponge across his abdomen. "We'll not have the time," she stated as she rinsed the sponge. "Millie will likely be tending that horse for hours. You know what they say about young women and horses." She pressed the sponge into his groin. Her hands lingered there. "What exactly do they say, husband?" Lawrence's face reddened. He recalled that what he was talking about was a cavalry saying and not meant for the ears of the fairer sex. "Uhm, never mind. The water is very cool." "But not too cool." She dropped the sponge and ran the tip of her finger along his hardening member. "Remove your clothing, Abigail." She put a hand to her mouth, as if in shock. "Sir! I am nearly a lady!" "You are the finest lady I have ever known, but I know your mind travels the same roads as does mine. Now take off your clothing so I can cool your flesh down." "Before you heat me back up?" She gave him a little smile, but undid her blouse. Lawrence picked up the sponge from the floor and went over to the bucket. He doused it thoroughly, then squeezed the excess water out. Crouched over the bucket full of cool well water, he hesitated. Then he plunged the sponge back into the bucket. He glanced over at his wife and watched as she kicked her dress away and began to remove her shoes. She had her back to him and the curve of her bottom and the smoothness of her skin made him lick his lips in anticipation. At last she turned around to face him. He lifted the sopping sponge from the bucket and stood in a menacing pose. Abigail put her hands out. "Now husband! That's not the gentle rinsing I gave you." He merely lunged forward and grabbed her arm. She closed her mouth and watched his eyes. Lawrence placed the sponge on her chest, just below her throat, and squeezed it against her skin. Abigail shivered from the coolness and quantity of the water. Lawrence chuckled as water ran down over her breasts, her stomach and along her legs. He tossed the sponge into the bucket and then pulled his wife to him. "Was it a little too cold, Abigail?" "Yes." "So I must warm you up, now?" "You must do your duty, husband." She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned against him. "The best duty I've ever had..." she rose to her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. His own arms went around her lower back and he lifted and pulled her tightly against him. They both began to hum contentedly, as the kiss continued. "Sir! Ma'am!" called Millie from the bottom of the stairs. Their shoulders drooped, their lips drew apart and they tilted their heads down so that they were forehead to forehead. "Sir? Ma'am?" Millie's voice sounded as if it now came from the stairway. "Damn!" swore Abigail. She pushed Lawrence away and ran across the bedroom to slam shut the door. "Uhm, I'm sorry to intrude ma'am, but you have a guest. Reverend Strachan came to the house and I let him in to the parlour." Abigail turned to her husband and mouthed the words 'she saw me'. Lawrence shrugged in response. Abigail opened the door slightly. "Millie, provide the good Reverend with some refreshment. Mr. Orr and I will be down shortly. We are just a little indisposed." There was a full second of hesitation. "Yes, ma'am." The two listened as Millie descended a few stairs. Lawrence walked over to his wife and put his arms around her. She leaned back against him. "Don't worry. Millie keeps her mouth shut when it matters. If anything, you've just let her virgin mind know that husbands and wives do engage in copulation for fun." Abigail chuckled. "We'd been so careful since she came into our house..." "We'd better dress quickly. That clergyman is very astute and neither of us desires to hear a sermon this Sunday on the sins of fornication while he stares us down." It was a matter of a few minutes before Abigail and Lawrence were able to greet their unexpected guest. They found him having a quiet but serious conversation with Millie. The two finished their discussion and rose and turned to Mr. and Mrs. Orr. "Good afternoon to both of you. Your maid and I were talking about good and evil." Strachan forced a smile. "Ah," said Lawrence, not understanding. "And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Reverend? It's too early for dinner." The minister flashed a genuine smile and then buried it away. "Word of your return has spread through York, sir. You are something of a celebrity." The husband and wife looked at each other in surprise. The Reverend continued, "The real reason for my visit is to give you forewarning to prepare for a dinner and ball being held by the Powell family. You are going to be invited, but it is only four days from now and I thought you'd appreciate some advance warning." "Chief Justice Powell's family?" asked Abigail, not quite sure she had heard correctly. "That's correct, Mrs. Orr. A very well-placed family, I might point out." "We are going to be invited?" asked Lawrence, incredulously. "Yes. The invitation hasn't been made, as yet. But you will be invited, count on it. I'll see you there." Strachan rose and Millie hurriedly recovered his hat and handed it to him. "And you, my child, remember what I have told you. A man can be your enemy and not be evil. And an evil man cannot truly love anyone but himself." Millie nodded her head and then gave the Orrs an embarrassed look. Strachan swept out of their home before they could ask any further questions, leaving both Abigail and Lawrence too surprised to even think of questioning their maid. 56 Millie stopped doing her chores and stood and waited, after Mr. and Mrs. Orr entered the kitchen. Mr. Orr glanced at his wife and Millie saw her give a small nod in response. He turned back to the maid. "So, Millie. The horse I rode home on needs some exercise and proper care. I'm not a cavalry man. Would you be so kind as to go to the Croyden's home and inquire if Jacob has any experience with horses?" Millie's eyes opened wide. Mrs. Orr studied the younger woman's face carefully. "Yes, sir." The maid curtsied and removed her apron. The Orrs watched as she left the room, but they did not follow her to the front door. The raven haired servant strongly suspected that this was an attempt by Mrs. Orr to give her a chance to talk with Jacob. Whether or not her surmise was correct, she was going to take advantage of the situation. Half-way to the Croyden's house, she cursed herself for forgetting to replace her servant's cap with her fancy, new bonnet. The Fall of York Ch. 49-57 She tapped on the door timidly. Forcing herself to stand up straight she tried to present a confident front to whoever opened the door, but she could feel her knees shaking. She raised her hand to rap on the door a second time when it opened before her. "Well, hello dear," said Mrs. Croyden genially. "Won't you come in?" Millie stepped into the house and her hostess closed the door behind her. The maid found her ability to speak had temporarily left her. "Is this a social visit?" asked the grey-haired woman. "Uhm, no. I mean: no ma'am. Major Orr sent me here because he had a question for Jacob...I mean for your American guest, Mrs. Croyden." Millie glanced about with her eyes, trying to spy if there was anyone else within earshot. "And he decided to send you instead of making the long walk himself?" asked Mrs. Croyden, with a wink. Millie's face became warm and she looked down at the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry, child. I shouldn't have teased you. I suppose your master is busy with other things?" "I suppose," replied Millie, raising her eyes. She saw nothing but warmth and compassion on the face of the older woman. "My employers may have had more than one reason for sending me with the message," she confided. "From one woman to another, I suppose Abigail has already told you that she and I intend to play matchmaker. Don't fret. We'll be discrete. Now, I'd better fetch my husband and our guest. They're busy in the woods behind the house. You have a seat in the parlour, there. I won't be a minute." Mrs. Croyden left her, and Millie stepped into the indicated room. She looked about and saw many small Indian artifacts scattered on the mantle and tables. She examined one of the tomahawks, but once she recalled the stories about scalping she promptly put it back down. She spied some delicate arrow heads and spent a short while scrutinizing them. "Ah, so you have an interest in my collection," said Mr. Croyden's friendly voice behind her. She quickly set the arrow heads back down and spun about. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have touched them!" "Don't worry, child. They're here to be looked at and I'm happy to see someone else with an interest in these small treasures I've found over the years. These Indians are just a fascinating people. Did you know that...?" "Mr. Croyden!" his wife interrupted. He turned to her with astonishment. "I believe Miss Grey has come with a purpose and was sent here by her employers. She can make a social call at another time and then the two of you can discuss these Indian things you've scattered around my home." Jacob stood behind Mrs. Croyden and had a grin on his face, which made Millie feel at ease. "Ah, I apologize, young lady. The Orr's wish something of us?" Mr. Croyden absently adjusted the positions of a few of the artifacts that Millie had handled. Millie took a big breath. "Major Orr asked me to come and enquire whether Jacob has any experience with horses, because he was given one to ride back to York and he isn't a cavalryman and isn't sure how to take care of the horse and we were hoping-that is, Major Orr was hoping that Jacob, having grown up and worked on a farm, might know how to tend a horse as some soldiers will be coming by to collect it eventually and he wants it well cared for." Millie found herself a little out of breath, but relieved that she had completed what she had been sent to this house to do. The three stared at her silently for a few seconds and Millie began to wonder exactly what she had just said. Had she said anything improper? "Well. That was a very complete question, don't you agree Mr. Wright?" asked Mrs. Croyden, sitting herself in a chair. She motioned for Millie to take a seat on the couch, but the girl stood still and was afraid to move. Jacob was trying to figure out exactly what Millie had just said. Mr. Croyden came to a sudden realization. "So, perhaps our neighbour would like to speak to Mr. Wright directly about the care of horses. Have you any experience with the creatures, Jacob?" he asked the American. "Why, yes I do. With farm horses, at least. I suppose military horses are very similar." "You do realize, young lady, that if you take a seat then Mr. Wright and I will also be able to sit?" asked Mr. Croyden. "The couch is very comfortable," suggested Mrs. Croyden. Millie saw Mr. Croyden frown, but she walked over and sat on one side of the couch. Jacob started to sit in a chair when Mrs. Croyden 'ahemmed'. Millie saw the older woman nod toward the couch that she sat on. Jacob gave a small smile and then sat beside the maid, being sure to keep a chaste distance from her. Mr. Croyden shook his head and then sat in the remaining chair. "So, this is very nice, isn't it?" asked Mrs. Croyden to nobody. "So I presume the care of horses is very complex and Mr. Wright may require frequent visits to the Orr household to ensure the beast is doing well." Mr. Croyden choked back a laugh and Millie suppressed a smile. She realized that Mrs. Croyden's efforts to bring her and Jacob together were far less subtle than Mrs. Orr's. Millie chanced a glance at Jacob and spied him doing the same. Mr. Croyden cleared his throat. "Perhaps they had best proceed to the Orr home and Jacob can speak to Captain Orr - sorry, Major Orr directly. What you do with a hammer dear, I manage with a paintbrush." "I don't understand you," replied Mrs. Croyden. Fully realizing what he had meant, Millie sprang to her feet eager to leave. Jacob was caught by surprise and rose a full second or two later. The Croydens were taken completely by surprise and Millie estimated a good five seconds elapsed before they also stood. "Perhaps Mr. Croyden is correct and Jac...Mr. Wright," to Millie's mind he seemed more like a Mr. Brave or Mr. Valiant, rather than simply Mr. Wright, "Mr. Bra - Mr. Wright had best speak to Major Orr in person." Mrs. Croyden frowned, but Mr. Croyden beamed. "Yes, excellent idea. The sky is blue and the air is fresh. It is so much more agreeable than it was a day or two ago, isn't it?" Millie nodded in answer. "So, you two head off to the Orr home and I suppose we'll see young Mr. Wright some time around dinner." Millie knew her face had just gone red and she hurried to the door. Behind her she could hear Jacob's innocent counter, "But it's only an hour after lunch, Mr. Croyden." There were a few more polite goodbyes and then the door closed behind the two young people. Millie let out a sigh of relief. "If you'll come with me, Mr. Wright?" He frowned. "Of course, Miss Grey. Although, I had hoped you would still call me Jacob." "I...I had thought, in politeness and respect, that I had best address you as Mr. Wright." "I would still think you polite and respectful if you should call me by my Christian name. May I call you Millie, once more?" They took a few steps before she answered. "I would like that, Jacob." Millie chewed her lip and then, remembering Mrs. Orr's remonstrations, forced herself not to. "I suppose you have had many visitors since you began lodging with the Croydens." It was an observation, but she hoped he would take it as a question. "Yes. A few. It seems as if every father with a daughter around marrying age has come by their house in the last several weeks." "Oh." Her heart sunk as she realized she stood no chance in comparison to those girls with established families. "May I ask how you have liked socializing with the residents of York?" He gave her a confused glance and then shook his head. "Many of them are very amiable, I suppose. Some are quite attractive. Have you had a lot of visitors?" "What? No, of course not. I mean..." "Why are you asking about other people when I'd much rather talk about you, Millie?" She nearly stumbled into a puddle. She caught herself and then skipped a few steps. She looked back at him. "You would really rather talk about me?" "Yes. I have been very distracted since I came to stay with the Croydens. I really don't care about any of the other girls in this town. I could have stolen a fishing boat and rowed myself back to my country any time I wanted to, but I stayed in the hope that I might be able to spend more time with you." "Truly?" "I know I'm a Yankee, one of the men who invaded your country, but I intend you and your people no harm, Millie. If you can find it in yourself to feel some fondness for me then I'll stay as long as it takes to win your heart. But if you feel nothing for me because of my nationality, then tell me now so I can make arrangements to leave as soon as I may. I shall leave you in peace and never trouble you again." Millie simply could not believe her ears. "Truly?" she asked again. Jacob's shoulders drooped. "I see. Very well, I'll..." "No, wait!" she grabbed his arm and then released it in embarrassment. "I do feel a fondness for you, Jacob. Your nationality means nothing to me. I was concerned that...some other girl had caught your eye while you were staying with the Croydens." "Never!" He let out a couple of laughs and then stifled them when he saw a cross look on her face. "I don't laugh at you, dear Millie. Mrs Croyden has been very particular to point out each girl's shortcomings immediately after they depart. Then she spends a good five or ten minutes pointing out how you are superior in every way. Mr. Croyden has chided her many times for her lack of subtlety." "Oh. Now I feel so foolish! I am sorry for being jealous, Jacob." He smiled broadly and then suddenly looked around at their surroundings. "You do realize that we've walked past the Orr house?" "Oh, dear!" They turned about and walked back to the Orr home. Millie brought him into the house, where she turned him over to Major Orr. Then, she went into the kitchen to finish her chores. After several minutes she caught her reflection on a piece of polished metal and was surprised to see a large smile upon her face. 57 Abigail finished adjusting her gown and went down the stairs. She felt rather uncomfortable to be wearing such a fine outfit, with its ribbons and lace, instead of the more practical clothing she was accustomed to, but Lawrence had been insistent about buying the expensive garment last Christmas. She had only agreed because it seemed important to him, and she had to admit that it was appropriate wear for the Powell's ball. "Oh, Mrs. Orr! You look like a princess!" exclaimed Millie. "Oh, you are exaggerating, young lady." She looked about for her husband and found him waiting by the front door with his dress uniform on. Abigail opened her mouth to comment on how dashing he looked, when he spoke first. "I guess it is true." She reached up to adjust his collar. "What's true, Lawrence?" "When you love a woman she looks more beautiful with each passing day." "Thank you." She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him. "So where did that quote come from?" "I've no idea. Should I look it up?" He made as if he were going to walk into the parlour, but Abigail held him in place. "We have a party to go to, husband. And I want you on your best behaviour." "Understood. No bawdy songs. No carousing with the serving girls. No duels." He offered his arm to her. "I suppose a little scandalous behaviour with my wife is probably out of the question?" She waved goodbye to Millie and then took her husband's arm. "If we're ever alone, I shall be very put out if there is no scandalous behaviour," she said as discretely as she could. Millie shook her head as she closed the door. She wondered if she and Jacob would behave like the Orrs, if they were to marry. She hoped so; her employers seemed very happy. She went about the house and put out the candles in all the rooms except the parlour. Sitting down beside the lit candles, she picked up her book and set to work. Aside from the odd creak and groan of the house, the only sound within was Millie' voice as she practised her reading slowly and carefully. * The entire story is completed and a portion will be posted every couple of days.