THE CRY FOR FREEDOM (Winds of Betrayal) Page 3

  She thought immediately to object—a year! A year was such a long time, but she stanched her words. Had Father not consented? She smiled to herself, certain she could convince her father later to lessen that year’s wait.

  She nodded to her father after he at last fell silent. She leaped up and swung her arms around him. “You’re the best father! I love you so!”

  “I am when you get your way,” he countered, leaning over and kissing the top of her head, “which is often, my spoilt, beloved daughter.”

  She tightened her grip around him. Impatient now for Gabriel’s return, her foolish thoughts of the night before forgotten. Only one fleeting memory swept through-that her uncle’s presence, his overbearing insistence of her visiting New York had insured her happiness. For of one thing Hannah was certain-her father wanted her to stay in Williamsburg, far away from her family in New York.

  Chapter Three

  Jonathan Corbett neared his destination. Footsteps echoed on the brick street. The time was late. The lonely street reflected a glow from the chimney street lamps. A long day had passed, and he was looking forward to his bed.

  He had learned a lesson this day, a hard one. My God! How helpless he had felt watching Priscilla Morse breathe her last breath. Of what good did it do to have become a physician if you could not save the sick? A beautiful wife and mother, only thirty-four, had lain bedridden for the last three weeks constantly wracked with chills and a cough. At the end, the coughing had brought up blood. He had known then. Looking into her eyes, she had also.

  She spent her last moments trying to comfort her love ones. The Morse’s were dear friends of his family, especially his father. Rodger Morse, a large burly man, had worked side by side with his father in their youths. Now he stood a widower with six young children. His oldest, fifteen years old, Rebekah surrounded her mother’s bed with her father, holding fast to her hand until she drew her last breath.

  They could not stop of what nature and God had decided. A foolish thought, he supposed, that he had some semblance of control even being a doctor. All eyes fell on him, desperately looking for help to save a loved one. He had failed.

  Tonight decided for him. He would take Dr. Morgan’s offer up and accept a commission in the Continental Army if needed. At least, he grimaced, the work would be seen with immediate results. Dr. Morgan, co-founder of the medical school he had only thus graduated here in Philadelphia, was a harden Patriot supported. He had talked often with Jonathan about serving in the need arose, which in Jonathan’s view was not long in coming.

  Jonathan climbed the outer stairs and let himself in the Smithfield’s rooms he had rented while he attended medical school and apprenticed with Dr. Benjamin Jenkins. He had lived such for the last two years. He wondered briefly if Gabriel would return this night, knowing his friend, he had found other activities to occupy his time.

  He flung off his cloak and hat, trying to ignore the gnawing within him. He lit the lamp. Sleep would not come easy tonight, but from the bedroom a feminine voice emerged, “Jonathan, is that you?”

  A smile crept forward upon his face. He carried the lamp to the bedroom. Upon a large high back bed lay a young woman, the most beautiful sight he could have beheld at this moment. Her ruffled hair and wrinkled attire gave evidence of having entered at a much earlier time. She stirred. Her eyes fluttered open in an attempt to wake herself.

  “Is it late? I must have been tired,” she yawned. She looked upon him with her crystal blue eyes and long eyelashes; her sunflower hair hung loose upon her shoulders.

  Closing the door soundly behind him, he said nothing. He sat the lamp down and joined her upon the bed. She looked at him with a soft smile. “What is wrong, my love?” she asked, gently, lovingly. “Is it bad news?”

  Jonathan sat and pulled off his boots, but his eyes lay upon her. He undid the buttons of his waistcoat and slung it over the chair next to the bed. She gave a knowing smile. Her hands lay on the buttons of her dress. Impatient, he leaned over to assist her efforts.

  His fingers made quick work of the buttons. He pulled the dress down and off her body, leaving only her chemise between him and her body. He quickly dismissed with the last barrier between him and her bare skin. Pulling his shirt over his head, he felt her hands upon his breeches…so many buttons.

  A moment later her warm, firm breasts pressed against his bare chest. The most primitive hunger drove him. She arched her body to his shamelessly begging him to take her. Forgetting everything except the urgent need to possess her, he spread her legs. Her hair wild about her shoulders, he came inside of her, thrusting harder and harder until expunging the demons that haunted him this day.

  She lay quietly in his arms as he played with her long hair. She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it. “Would you like to talk of it?”

  “Let us just say that I am happy to have found you thus. I needed you this night,” he answered. “But that too is contentious of me.” His arms pulled her around to see her eyes. “My darling, Catherine, this cannot go on like this. I quite understand your feelings.

  “I have been patient, too patient. I need to make matters right. I haven’t liked this arrangement from the beginning. I have reached the point where it doesn’t matter what your father thinks, Cat.”

  She turned back, pulling his arm around her with a little laugh. “I believe you will get your wish. I see light shining through the curtains.”

  He drew her closer to him. “Good! I need you, Catherine Ann Gannon Corbett. It is about time that I wake with you in the morning light.”

  * * * *

  The sun rose and Catherine slept. He pulled the covers up, studying her face, so angelic. He caressed her cheek slightly.

  Her eyes inched slightly open.

  “No, my darling, sleep,” he said softly. “I will send for you after I talk with your father.”

  She closed her eyes with a slight smile. “You have married a coward, I’m afraid.”

  He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “All will be settled soon. You have nothing to be anxious about,” he lied, but he would make it all right. He would make her father see he was a worthy husband to his precious daughter.

  He tucked his shirt in and grabbed his waist coat before exiting his bedroom. He shut the door and discovered Gabriel sitting on his sofa. At most times, Gabriel’s apparel was impeccable. He took pride in his sunny good looks, his dusky blonde hair, smoldering blue eyes. This morning his hair was in disarray with reddened eyes, without a doubt in his mind, Jonathan realized his friend had little sleep.

  “Ah, Jonathan, I wondered where you were last night. Catherine came by before I left for the evening. I told her I expected you back. Thought you were coming to the tables….”

  Jonathan placed his hand to his mouth. “Catherine is sleeping.”

  A wide grin emerged upon his friend, “Ah, this is it. You are going to meet the wrath of her father. Talking to Stephen last night about such—”

  “You talked to her brother. Are you mad? He will tell his father before I get the chance.”

  “Calm yourself, Jonathan. Catherine had already told her brother,” Gabriel said. Grimacing, his palm went to his forehead. “Do you have something for my head, old friend? I’m afraid I overdid all last night.”

  Jonathan wanted to retort that his behavior did not resemble a man who also was contemplating walking down the aisle with Jonathan’s sister. But, he had held the conversation many times over the last few weeks with his friend.

  “I only want to get all out of my system. I doubt seriously if Hannah will allow me to go gambling and drinking to all hours of the night!”

  Jonathan stared at his friend. It wasn’t Gabriel’s gambling and drinking that bothered Jonathan most. It was the scent of perfume that followed his friend upon his return. He wanted not to betray his friend, his best friend since both could walk.

  Whereas Jonathan had spent the last couple of years completing his training and studies in Philadelphia, Gabriel
had spent the last two years traveling abroad in Europe.

  But Hannah was his sister, and he did not wish to see her hurt. He needed to discuss the issue with his father, but now he had a more pressing issue-his father-in-law, Joseph Gannon.

  Joseph Gannon, a dominating man with high ambitions, was among the elite of Philadelphia society, a respected member of the Pennsylvania Assemble, a renowned Philadelphia lawyer. He had become one of the leading voices in the Philadelphia Assembly. He had made it known he wished to continue on in the developing circumstances. Jonathan had heard whisperings of opposition to his attaining the goals he strove for.

  Jonathan had met Catherine Gannon upon his entrance into the College of Philadelphia, two years back. Her brother, Stephen, whom was classmates with Jonathan, introduced the two. At first glance, Jonathan had been instantly smitten with Catherine and her exquisite beauty. There were few who could compare with her creamy skin, flawlessly done blonde hair, vivid dancing blue eyes and her laugh, a warm contagious laugh with a sparkle within. Her political views lay with her father, whom she felt could do no wrong. In that thankfully they were on the same side.

  The Gannon’s were close personal friends of the Franklins, long endeared throughout the colonies the colonies and England. They also had strong ties to England where Catherine’s mother was from. Joseph Gannon held influence over many venues in the colonies.

  “Go to sleep and stop your excessive drinking,” Jonathan advised Gabriel. “I will send for Catherine when I’m done with my mission. I hope you will be in shape to escort if the need arises.”

  Having said his last words, he took a deep breath and straightened his waistcoat. He closed the apartment door behind him and walked briskly down the narrow street which led to the house he sought. He turned up a stone path crossing a lawn to the front of a large which colonial house.

  He knocked lightly, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. The door cracked open, slowly allowing him entrance. A huge London-made clock in the foyer chimed, seven-thirty. He wasn’t sure why the time was of importance.

  The butler escorted him into the massive foyer, grand elegant furnished, and wallpaper imported from Italy, a crystal chandelier centered the ceiling. He waited for Joseph Gannon to meet him in his study. No, Jonathan thought, his home in Williamsburg couldn’t compare to the comforts supplied within these walls.

  He was under no illusions when it came to his Catherine. She was spoiled, badly, but he thought of no other, loved no other as he did her. Stephen had joked that Jonathan was the first to put his foot down with Catherine, frustrating her to no end so that she would have no one but Jonathan.

  Joseph Gannon appeared in the doorway, looking none too pleased. Jonathan took a deep breath in as he walked in and the door closed behind him.

  * * * *

  Two weeks had passed since that morning, a morning etched in his mind for an eternity, one that he had no desire to revisit. Much had occurred, but Gannon had relented and accepted Jonathan on conditions. Conditions that Jonathan had vehemently fought. Catherine, though, begged him, pleaded with him to accept.

  “Please, Jonathan,” she cried. Tears poured forth from her lovely eyes. He didn’t know how to battle her tears. “Is it too much to ask in truth? You are accepting a commission. If I go to Williamsburg, who would I know?”

  “My family,” Jonathan answered without hesitation. “They will love you. My sister is only a couple of years younger. You two will be the best of friends.”

  “But you won’t be there,” she pouted her tiny lips. “Father says it would be best to wait until the time you will be by my side. He worries so about me….”

  “But what of now? You are honestly telling me you won’t mind if I’m gone,” he looked at her incredulously. “I will be gone for a month maybe more before I come back. In that I find it hard—”

  “Father said that it will be for the best…”

  The words she uttered, he himself had heard from her father, almost word for word. He relented, even though it went against his grain, but had she not already gone against her father by marrying him? Could he not give into her upon this issue? When he returned from his assignment were they not going to live in Williamsburg? Had she not promised?

  * * * *

  Jonathan discovered his father-in-law to be a true politician. Gannon forgave his favorite daughter her lapse in eloping with Jonathan, and threw the couple a large celebration to announce their marriage the night before Jonathan set to depart back to Williamsburg.

  Jonathan had only for a moment left his bride’s side. He gazed over at her from the corner of the ballroom Catherine glowed from the attention surrounding her, looking breathtakingly beautiful in a flowing sapphire gown. Her eyes sparkled. Christ! He had no desire to leave her, but he had to return home.

  Morse had requested to meet with Jonathan for a few moments this night. Jonathan reluctantly turned from the scene and walked down the foyer to the door of Gannon’s business study. He knocked lightly before he entered.

  Shutting the door behind him, Morse stood. He walked behind Jonathan and turned the key, locking the door.

  “How are you doing? I haven’t seen you since the funeral,” Jonathan asked Morse in a low voice.

  “It hasn’t been easy,” he said simply. “Rebekah has had the hardest of time. She was close to her mother. Upset also because I’m sending the children down to Priscilla’s parents in Charles Town. She doesn’t understand the reason why. I can’t do the job now before me and worry about my children.”

  “She will, Rodger,” Jonathan answered. “Give her time.” He clasped Morse’s back and walked toward the others, scanning the candlelit room; greeted by familiar faces, most of hardened Patriot supporters-men willingly placing their lives in danger for their belief in a cause.

  Gannon sat behind his mahogany desk, much as he had when Jonathan had met with him. Sitting in the chair to his left side, a tiny-boned man with a pointed chin, Dr. Benjamin Jenkins, Jonathan’s mentor. He gave Jonathan a wide smile. A mild mannered man, Dr. Jenkins had always shown a fondness for Jonathan. Dr. Jenkins had been the first to suggest that Jonathan had the skills needed to become a great physician.

  To the right, a pudgy face man with a glass of wine in his hand, Lyle Fleming, a prominent Philadelphia business man. He nodded politely to Jonathan.

  “I don’t mean to press so, but time is short this night and we have much to discuss in a short time. We don’t want to be gone too long from the party,” Fleming said. “Gannon’s right, we have to react. With secrecy of the utmost importance—all our lives depend on trust and the ability to communicate without fear of detection would be invaluable.”

  Gannon gestured for Jonathan to have a seat. The desk was littered with papers. The candlelight reflected off the sheets spread across the top. The pages were filled with pictures, diagrams. The instrument had the look of a printer’s instrument.

  “Do you believe this could be functional, Rodger? It seems complicated, cumbersome. Will it help?” Dr. Jenkins asked.

  “Delibes believes so. I am not so confident, but it does require our attention. Delibes wants John to look over it. Lanson wants the machine and drawings to go separate. I have arranged to rendezvous with Delibes to retrieve the said device. Jonathan can take the letters. You have no problem doing so?” Rodger answered. His eyes glanced up from the papers.

  “I’m set to leave in the morning with Gabriel,” Jonathan responded.

  Rodger nodded his approval. “I will meet up with Delibes and deliver the device to Lanson. He will see to it that it’s delivered to your father.”

  “You can trust this man, Lanson? I don’t know of him,” Gannon interrupted.

  “There is no finer man than Peter Lanson. I trust no one better with my life,” Morse said firmly.

  “You will have to. We all will,” Gannon replied. His attention directed upon Jonathan. “Now you understand the reason why Catherine needs to stay where she is, Jonathan. I can’t
have her off gallivanting…spying.”

  “I would never allow such,” Jonathan countered indignantly. Quickly he reined in his temper. Jonathan stood and flipped through the papers. “I find it hard to believe my father can decipher these particulars.”

  Lifting a glass of refreshment, Rodger laughed. “I am sure there is much you do not know of your father. In the years I worked with John, he was the best at figurin’ out the ins and outs of the most odd devices. Many a puzzle he decoded, and I might add, at the most opportune times. Many a scrape we managed to avoid because of his genius. But never did we dream we would be back in the middle of a network.”

  “Life takes many unexpected twist and turns. Take working with Delibes. Over twenty years ago we were working against him,” Dr. Jenkins added, sitting back within his chair.

  “Ah, but now we are on the same side. He hates the British with a passion,” Rodger said, rubbing his eyes.

  Jonathan broke in. “Isn’t he a Frenchman? Isn’t that expected?”

  “There was more,” Dr. Jenkins offered. He poured a glass of wine for both. “Another time. Do we need to inform any others of the details?”

  “Like I have said before, the fewer people know the better. We have to be extremely careful,” Rodger warned. “I will be meeting up with Delibes in New York next week. From there I will take the device. If need be, after John looks at it we will arrange a meeting.”

  “Are all these precautions needed?” Jonathan asked. He placed the papers back down.

  Rodger shook his head. “It’s hard for you being young to understand the road that we’re embarking on, but mark my word, son. If we all value our heads. War is a harsh reality. Neither side takes kindly to spies. Examples are made to deter. To make the next steps, there can be no doubt of your commitment to the cause. Our lives will mean nothing compared to our goal. Without doubt, sacrifices will be made.”

  “The last letters from Franklin warned of repercussions from the Boston Tea Party. He believes the British are now posed to take a much harder stance.” Dr. Jenkins tossed back his glass and finished off his drink. “King George believes he has taken too soft a position. Franklin himself has been relieved of his deputy postmaster for America duty. The British are set to use force against us. We all know that we will defend. We have to prepare. The time is at hand.”