“but don’t fear to go through the kitchen. It’s a tangle in there now because of market day. All the regulars is crowdin’ in for a bite. Hurry, and maybe no one’ll see.”
Jack was already throwing on his waistcoat. From an inner pocket, he withdrew a coin and tossed it. With quick fingers, the maid caught it in mid air.
“Good English silver!” she exclaimed, turning his gift around and around in her hands. Her face shone with absolute joy.
“Gracie!” a woman’s voice screeched from downstairs. “Gracie! Where in God’s name are ye, girl?”
“Good luck, young gentlefolk!”
Grace dashed to the door, but spun round to give a last piece of advice. “And if ye haven’t,” she said with a wink, “git to the preacher soon.” There was a swirl of drab skirts and the wild clop-clop as her wooden clogs resounded in the narrow stairwell.
Angelica was already out of bed and stepping into her dress, pulling it up over shift and chemise. Jack tucked in his shirt, threw on his jacket and jammed the tricorn down over his trailing locks.
“Damn,” he groaned, bending to peer out the window, “They’re right across the way.”
Angelica joined him, looking down into a Dobb’s Ferry street shockingly full of redcoats. In the midst of them, one officer, very tall and very lean, was in the act of dismounting a black horse.
It was like a punch in the stomach to see him again. For one horrible, fascinated moment, Angelica stared as Major Armistead ducked to enter the low door of the inn across the street.
Jack abandoned the window and went to pull his pistol buckets and sword from beneath the bed. Every move was efficient, but there was not a whit of worry or haste.
“You’ve got to help me!” Angelica cried. She had gone to sit in the chair and pull on her stockings and garter them. “The stays—”
“Grab them,” he commanded, dashing to the door, “We don’t have time to get you into them. Just tie your front laces tight. That and the cloak will have to do.”
“Well, I can’t leave them.” Swiftly, Angelica ducked to collect her understays.
“Don’t let anyone see them,” he cautioned, and she stuffed them under one arm beneath the cloak.
In the next moment, they went flying down the stairs. .
The staircase terminated in a corner of the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, they marched straight in. Just as Grace had said, everyone was frantically busy. Servants and a couple of black slaves were rushing between a roaring, spitting fire and a long table covered with plates.
How good it smelled! Wonderful scents mingled, sizzling pork and gravy, hot cornbread and beans!
On his way through, Jack lifted a couple of pieces of steaming cornpone and stuffed them into his pocket.
Outside they found Hal saddled but unattended, tied next to a stump that served as a mounting block. Jack loosened his horse and then got up.
“Here, put your foot on my boot and I’ll get you up,” he said.
Angelica amazed herself, getting up as if she’d been doing this all her life. Quickly, and apparently unobserved, they left the courtyard and trotted into an alley.
“I think if we go this way—” Angelica said, pointing over his shoulder. “—we’ll find a cow path that comes out in a pasture.” She nearly dropped the stays, but caught them again, elbow tight to her side. As soon as they were out of the village, she’d roll them up and then stuff them into a rear saddlebag.
***
Jack slowed the horse to a walk. He took one of the pieces of cornpone out
of
his pocket and passed it back to her.
Angelica studied the slab of cornpone—a heavy, yellow slab dotted with back-eye beans—disapprovingly. It was distinctly overcooked.
Certainly not the way I make it!
She soon decided, however, that in this situation, dry and hard was best. Although Jack doubtless had a pocket full of crumbs, there wouldn’t be mushy bean ooze.
“I believe,” Jack said, chewing, “we’re extremely fortunate
Jack was already throwing on his waistcoat. From an inner pocket, he withdrew a coin and tossed it. With quick fingers, the maid caught it in mid air.
“Good English silver!” she exclaimed, turning his gift around and around in her hands. Her face shone with absolute joy.
“Gracie!” a woman’s voice screeched from downstairs. “Gracie! Where in God’s name are ye, girl?”
“Good luck, young gentlefolk!”
Grace dashed to the door, but spun round to give a last piece of advice. “And if ye haven’t,” she said with a wink, “git to the preacher soon.” There was a swirl of drab skirts and the wild clop-clop as her wooden clogs resounded in the narrow stairwell.
Angelica was already out of bed and stepping into her dress, pulling it up over shift and chemise. Jack tucked in his shirt, threw on his jacket and jammed the tricorn down over his trailing locks.
“Damn,” he groaned, bending to peer out the window, “They’re right across the way.”
Angelica joined him, looking down into a Dobb’s Ferry street shockingly full of redcoats. In the midst of them, one officer, very tall and very lean, was in the act of dismounting a black horse.
It was like a punch in the stomach to see him again. For one horrible, fascinated moment, Angelica stared as Major Armistead ducked to enter the low door of the inn across the street.
Jack abandoned the window and went to pull his pistol buckets and sword from beneath the bed. Every move was efficient, but there was not a whit of worry or haste.
“You’ve got to help me!” Angelica cried. She had gone to sit in the chair and pull on her stockings and garter them. “The stays—”
“Grab them,” he commanded, dashing to the door, “We don’t have time to get you into them. Just tie your front laces tight. That and the cloak will have to do.”
“Well, I can’t leave them.” Swiftly, Angelica ducked to collect her understays.
“Don’t let anyone see them,” he cautioned, and she stuffed them under one arm beneath the cloak.
In the next moment, they went flying down the stairs. .
The staircase terminated in a corner of the kitchen. Taking a deep breath, they marched straight in. Just as Grace had said, everyone was frantically busy. Servants and a couple of black slaves were rushing between a roaring, spitting fire and a long table covered with plates.
How good it smelled! Wonderful scents mingled, sizzling pork and gravy, hot cornbread and beans!
On his way through, Jack lifted a couple of pieces of steaming cornpone and stuffed them into his pocket.
Outside they found Hal saddled but unattended, tied next to a stump that served as a mounting block. Jack loosened his horse and then got up.
“Here, put your foot on my boot and I’ll get you up,” he said.
Angelica amazed herself, getting up as if she’d been doing this all her life. Quickly, and apparently unobserved, they left the courtyard and trotted into an alley.
“I think if we go this way—” Angelica said, pointing over his shoulder. “—we’ll find a cow path that comes out in a pasture.” She nearly dropped the stays, but caught them again, elbow tight to her side. As soon as they were out of the village, she’d roll them up and then stuff them into a rear saddlebag.
***
Jack slowed the horse to a walk. He took one of the pieces of cornpone out
of
his pocket and passed it back to her.
Angelica studied the slab of cornpone—a heavy, yellow slab dotted with back-eye beans—disapprovingly. It was distinctly overcooked.
Certainly not the way I make it!
She soon decided, however, that in this situation, dry and hard was best. Although Jack doubtless had a pocket full of crumbs, there wouldn’t be mushy bean ooze.
“I believe,” Jack said, chewing, “we’re extremely fortunate