Women of the Revolution: Secret Agents of the Culper Ring (for RussianBunny)

[Renton]

Most people knew Margaret Baker as Peggy the Sweets Girl. Her family ran Old Peter's Publick House, where travelers could get a pint of beer, a hot meal, a bed for the night, and a place to shop for general goods next door. As a child, Peggy would sell sweets to customers. Peggy was now 19, far from the tiny child who could barely reach over the counter to sell candy. She was pretty, slightly plump, with bright red hair, green eyes, and freckles. Today, she regularly ran the whole shop, assisted by Betty, her family's longtime servant. Betty, who didn't know her age but reckoned she was in her early 40s, was black, and Peggy's parents, both strict abolitionists, paid her and always treated her as part of the family.

They needed her help, too. Normally running the family shop with their sizable clan was an easier task than this, but Peggy's father William, older brother Bill Jr., and twin brother James were so often off, meeting with the Sons of Liberty, despite her mother's desire for the family to keep a low profile. It was better that they were out of town right now; the their village was, for the time being, occupied by Redcoats, the sort of usurpation of house and home that was causing so much outrage in the colonies. Last she heard, they were fighting in Pennsylvania, quite a ways from their home in New York.

That left Peggy, her mother, her 12 year old brother Harry, and Betty to do all the work. They were often exhausted, but especially Peggy. See, Peggy wasn't only selling candy and making beds these days. About three months ago, a customer, a grizzled middle-aged man, had slipped her a message as he rented a room. The note said that if she wanted to help "the cause" to meet in the room he was staying in at the inn at 9 pm. She was wary at first; what if the man had bad intentions? But then, the note said she would be meeting a woman. It was all quite puzzling.

She went to the room and was met by a young woman whom she recognized as the daughter of the city's most vociferous British loyalist. She was immediately afraid, but the woman assured her: she was on their side, and she'd chosen Peggy for a reason. George Washington needed women to spy for him, in order to maximize the reach of his network. Peggy was in a particularly good position to spy on any Redcoats using the services of her family's public house. She had charm, she was well-liked, and she was smart. The woman didn't tell her how she knew these things, but that didn't matter: if Peggy was up to the task, then they'd be a team.

Suddenly Peggy was filled with a thrill of adventure. She accepted. Since then, her work had largely consisted of scouring the rooms of British soldiers, evesdropping, and pickpocketing when she had the chance. Nothing huge had turned up, but it was meaningful, and risky. And it had taken a toll on her backside; late night meetings with other spies often meant sneaking back home after hours. When caught, Peggy's mother had no qualms baring her backside and spanking her soundly. But Peggy felt compelled to keep her mother in the dark about her spying. She'd almost certainly forbid it, for one, but it was also a matter of safety. If she was ever caught by the British, Peggy would not put her mother at risk with knowledge of her activities.

Today, Peggy was once again selling sweets, to a band of small children, as Betty was picking out tobacco for a British soldier. Whenever Peggy saw a Redcoat now she saw opportunity, but right here, in the morning, surrounded by children, was not the best time to strike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abner DuPont was astonished when word of "revolution" first began to spread in New York. Surely these ungrateful colonists weren't speaking of treason against the king? A successful publisher, he went to work publishing pamphlets decrying the revolution and demanding that anyone speaking of it be hanged. It... didn't quite work. Fighting broke out in Massachusetts. War broke out in all the colonies. At one point, an angry mob confronted him in the streets, calling him a "Tory", saying he should be tarred and feathered. He escaped because he was with his daughter at the time, who talked sense into the angry men.

Abner had half a mind to move to England, but he was confident that Crown would emerge victorious in a month or two. The war had been waged for two years already, and surely there weren't enough rebels left to fight? For all their defiance and "Declarations of Independence", there simply was no match for English firepower. And now that the English had control of this part of New York, Abner was being rewarded handsomely. He was regularly visited by British officers, eager to thank a man so loyal to the King. His home now regularly hosted parties and balls, and he hoped dearly that one of these officers caught his daughter's eye; a widower, a good marriage to a respectable gentleman was Abner's greatest hope for his only daughter.

[Bye_bye_birdie45]

While it was true that William Baker Sr. was the one who officially owned the Old Peter's Publick House, it was his wife – Henrietta Baker – who was the one who ran everything. The Irish woman had come across the sea with her family as an infant, and she'd fallen in love with William Baker at the age of sixteen and married him shortly before her eighteenth birthday. They had been extremely blessed: four healthy children, in three (relatively) painless pregnancies; a thriving boarding home and general store, and a good standing in a town that was torn apart by the war.

Having her husband and her oldest children away with the Sons of Liberty was difficult. She had seen some of their neighbors have loved ones arrested for be affiliated with the treasonous group, and she prayed everyday that nothing bad would happen to any of them. And her daughter's tendency to run around at night, doing the Lord knows what, didn't ease Henrietta's mind in the slightest. She didn't want to lose her daughter in the war as well, and she wanted Peggy (who was her spitting image, only a few inches shorter) to grow up to become a respectable young woman.

A respectable young woman, Henrietta consistently reminded her daughter, should always listen to her mother in matters of the house and life. But Peggy had always been stubborn – it was something she inherited from her father – and Henrietta was nothing if not a firm disciplinarian.

Not to mention, by owning the store, they were often met with customers who were Redcoats, and – savvy business owners as they were – the Baker family allowed both Redcoats and colonists to stay in their boarding rooms, as long as they had enough in their pocket to cover the expense. After all, other boarding homes had been purposefully shut down by the Crown for not allowing Redcoats to stay. And aside from one broken window thrown by a drunkard, they hadn't been threatened by anyone.

The Bakers intended to keep it that way, for the benefit of their children. Aside from their sons, Henrietta didn't want her daughter and youngest son to be coerced by anyone in either side of the debate. It was safer if the two of them stayed out of it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was made exceedingly clear to Phoebe DuPont that, should she decide to be a spy for the American colonists against the Redcoats, then her life could potentially be in danger, should the “Sons of Liberty" lose. They had promised to give her and her father (unknowingly, of course) amnesty, should they eventually go the war, but they had made no promises to avoid dragging her name through the mud if they went to war and lost. She knew, if they lost against the Crown and her name was shamed, that her father probably wouldn't be able to forgive her – if he didn't die from a heart attack on the spot.

After all, Abner DuPont was a very vocal and very loyal Tory, despite the occasional threats. Although, he had become worried when the daughter of a fellow Loyalist had been kidnapped in the middle of the night – and was tared and feathered when her father refused to acknowledge their side of the debate. (The poor girl's skin had been burned for well over three months, and she'd refused to go out in public until she healed.) Phoebe herself had avoided such treatment, because of her dual loyalties, but that did not avoid the occasional public sneer, if for nothing but to save face.

Still, the army recognized that Phoebe – as the daughter and sole child of a famous Loyalist – was in a perfect position to assist the revolution. At first, she had been horrified when they approached her to their aid in 1766. Then she had thought it over, and she had eventually decided to help after the start of the Townshend Acts in 1767, even though she had been fifteen at the time. The uneasiness between both sides had quickly risen, and while her father believed the war would be short, Phoebe had an instinct that this was not the case.

Especially since the “war” had been going on unofficially for several years now. At the age of nineteen (with her twentieth birthday looming in a few months), Phoebe was hoping that 1770 would be much kinder to the American colonies than the previous few years had been. It was only mid-February, but she would hope for the best – and that her father was correct in the assumption of the war ending soon. Not to mention, the Redcoats weren't technically an army: they were merely officers who were policing the colonists, according to her father.

She hoped that, by turning twenty (which many colonists considered to be an “old” age), some of the bachelors would stop lording over her during the DuPont parties and attempt to swoon some of the sixteen and seventeen year old girls who would attend. She knew her father wanted her to be wed to a respectable man – especially if he happened to be wealthy and a Loyalist – but she personally couldn't care less at the moment. She wanted those things, yes, eventually, but with a war going on, it didn't seem as important as ending the bloodshed and anger between the colony and the Crown.

[Renton]

Peggy couldn't deny that being a spy - a spy!- carried with it an immense thrill. But she was not naive about the stakes. She knew that spies were hanged in public. She was willing to risk her own life for the cause, but she knew that if she were hanged, it might well do her mother in. So she was careful. She planned every action she took meticulously. If she wanted information from a British officer, she'd butter him up with flirting and chatting for some time. She was a skilled pickpocket as well; when she was 13, she stole a wealthy man's money purse after he was rude to her mother about an order he'd placed that hadn't arrived yet. She removed a very substantial sum from it and replaced the money with scrap rags, all without his noticing. She proudly presented the money to her mother, presuming she'd be happy. Instead she got the spanking of her life and was made to apologize to the man and return his money. She wondered now if that man, whom she knew was a staunch and significant Patriot (and a mean prig, but that was beside the point now), had mentioned her name in the recruiting process.

As Peggy eyed the soldier, Betty shot her a look, rolling her eyes. The man was trying to use flattery to talk Betty into lowering the price of tobacco. Peggy wanted to pickpocket this man on principle, but she had more reason than that. She knew he was aide-de-camp to one of the British generals. He wrote most of the general correspondence and knew much of his movements and plans. There was likely plenty of value on him, and in his need to get his tobacco fix he was clearly distracted. A perfect mark.

"Mind if I take a breather?" she said to Betty, as she slipped around the back of the soldier. She deftly reached into his knapsack and pulled out a leather portfolio. She left the knapsack open so the soldier might think that anything he lost simply fell out due to his own folly. Even Betty didn't seem to notice her. Once she was safely away, she checked the contents of the leather folder...

love letters. Drat. Not the military correspondence she was hoping for.

She then heard some howls of anger coming from the store.

The soldier was towering over her brother, Harry. "YOU DAMNED RASCAL! YOU STOLE MY LETTERS!" The man raised his arm to strike her brother, but Peggy ran in and grabbed it. "I found these outside!" she said, frantically, handing him the letters. They clearly fell out of your knapsack. It was unopened when you walked in," she added. The soldier took the letters in a huff; clearly the nature of them was the source of his heightened emotions. "Thank you," he said, nodding to her, her face red. He then nodded at Harry and left without a word of apology. When he was gone, she hugged her brother. "What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know!" he said, sounding very confused. "I saw you leave so I came in to man the counter. Then he reached for his knapsack to pay for his tobacco and he saw it was open, and some letters were gone. He then looked at me and lost his mind!" A surge of guilt overcame Peggy. They were all lucky. And she'd thought herself so careful.

"I'm sorry that happened," she said, not implicating her own guilt, although Betty shot her a dirty look, indicating she did know what had happened. The last thing she needed now was for the British to cast a wary eye on them. And if her mother found out about this, well, she'd likely have to explain it away as her trying to pickpocket an annoying British soldier. That would likely mean a thrashing, but she was willing to trade off a sore backside for her cover.

~~~~~~~~

Abner was having tea and laughing with yet another British officer's terrible jokes. He hoped he did not become so mundane as he aged; he was robust at 49, strong and lean, preferring to wear his brown hair in a braid than than in a wig. All this socializing was worth it for the perks, however; the officer was talking about giving Abner a new horse as a gift for his good work; last week he'd published another pamphlet strongly decrying the growing resentment of the King. The name DuPont name was quickly becoming synonymous with "Loyalist" (or, well, "Tory"). "Have you met my daughter, by the way?" he said, as he introduced Phoebe to the officer. "Indeed not. What a lovely young woman," the old man said, kissing Phoebe's hand. "My son was recently promoted to Colonel," the officer said. "He will be at the dance tonight. I do hope you can make his acquaintance."

"Indeed, I hope so as well," Abner said, sounding very much like he was going to introduce this young British officer to Phoebe one way or another. When the officer left, Abner approached his daughter and gave her a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you for enduring yet another breakfast guest," he said. "I know there is little of interest in our conversations to you. But I do hope you will mingle a bit more at the dance tonight. The attendees will be much closer to your age."

There was certainly a bit of anxiety in Abner's voice. Phoebe was always a very smart girl, and he'd given her the sort of education that women were rarely afforded. She was usually many steps ahead of potential suitors intellectually. "Major-General Lewis's son is a bright young man, and very charming. I hope you at least give him an opportunity to introduce himself".

Abner sighed. He knew he could be a bit overbearing on his only daughter. He'd taught her to develop her mind and he maintained strict discipline throughout her life; he knew she was a formidable personality as a result. Now that she was a young woman herself, he wondered how much longer he could attempt to guide her decisions.

[Bye_bye_birdie45]

Henrietta knew very well that, somehow, her daughter had learned to pick pockets, and to perform this duty so well that, more often than not, the persons didn't realize what had occurred until much later. She discouraged her daughter from stealing as often as possible – not only was it illegal and could wind her in serious trouble, but it was also unladylike – and “discourage” usually came in the form of a very stern spanking.

Luckily for Peggy, Henrietta was inside the boarding house when the theft occurred, not inside of the shop, and she managed to avoid hearing the shouting due to a few customers trying to catch her attention all at once. By the time she had a spare moment to herself, it was nearly 11am and past time for everyone to check out for the day. (The time to check out was 10:30am, and while the Publick House offered breakfasts and dinners, they made an agreement with Old Missus Miller, the widow, to stay closed for lunch so she could have some business of her own.)

Knowing that no one in the family would be required at the inn until around six o'clock, Henrietta made her way back into the shop, which was now relatively empty. Were it not lunch hour, and most of their customers at home or about town, she would be worried. But the lack of noise was now a blessing.

“Hello, darling,” Henrietta said, finding her daughter behind the counter and kissing the top of her head. “How has everything been this morning? Your brother ought to be behaving himself.” After all, if he wasn't (as most twelve year old boys were prone to be), she had no problem making him perform boring and heavy manual chores as punishment. While her daughter's resilience made manual chores less effective (hence, the spankings), her son's punishments usually involved boring and time-consuming chores such as cutting wood, keeping the fires going, attending to guests—duties which would keep him from his favorite activity: playing with his friends.

From the corner of the room, Betty – who was helping stock shelves – gave Peggy a look over her shoulder. The woman wasn't going to tattle on the young girl for what she'd done, but she also knew Peggy well enough to know the girl would eventually come forward to relieve her own guilt. (Whenever that would occur, however, remained a mystery.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Phoebe, as usual, remained quiet during these morning meals when officers would come to their home and speak with her father over political and current affairs. Most of the time, she was ignored by them – which was completely fine by her, since it allowed her to listen to what they were saying and storing information to use later on. Their presence also allowed her father to continue to social climb, which she knew was good for him, so she held no complaints.

(It was also far too early for one to begin drinking at breakfast, so things always were civil and involved no broken chairs. That particular young man had not been back to their house since then.)

Still, when the man mentioned his son, it took all of Phoebe's strength to not groan or make a face. It was rather well known, at this point, that Phoebe DuPont was “picky with men” (meaning that she'd turned down more than one or two, for varying reasons), and – considering that her father was in good standing – she knew there were men who wanted to court her. And Phoebe had no problem with saying no, even if it meant doing so in a public place and earning a scolding later on. (Although, while one of the men who had spoken to her should not have grabbed her arm so harshly, he probably hadn't deserved to have his foot stomped on and slapped across the face.)

“I shall try, Papa,” she said, giving him a weak smile. She didn't really mind parties, that wasn't the issue; they could be quite fun, sometimes. “And I will be sure to speak with him.” If nothing else, the Colonel would probably attempt to boast about his position in the army to make himself seem more eligible (which, in turn, would give her more to speak about to the Sons of Liberty when they requested her presence again).

“Papa, would you mind if I go and ride Chesapeake?” Chesapeake was Phoebe's horse, a lovely and beautiful brown creature who had formerly been a racing horse. Phoebe still loved riding and usually could be found racing Chesapeake around town as fast as she could, without running into people or into carriages. However, she'd taken to riding without side-saddle, which was extremely unladylike but made it far easier to ride and to go faster than a trot.

[Renton]

Peggy was felt extraordinarily guilty the rest of the day for putting her brother at risk. Pickpocketing like that was going to be out of the question. Peggy certainly had issues when it came to feeling guilty. As much as she disliked being spanked, it did help alleviate some of the bad feeling in her gut if she'd done something wrong. When her mother showed up and kissed her forehead she bit her lip. "It was... altogether an uneventful day. Harry has been well behaved," she said. Betty's look didn't help her, but for now she bottled her feelings and kept at work.

At supper, Betty fixed them a simple meal of venison stew. Peggy ate slowly and didn't feel all that good about what she did eat. She remained quiet as Harry chattered on about the day. She was lost enough in her thoughts that she was caught by surprise when, inevitably, the story of the soldier came up.

"And then he was about to strike me, but Peggy stopped him!" Harry said, indignant. "Turns out the fool had left his knapsack open and the letters had fallen out. I hope Pa gets him back when he returns," he said, furrowing his brow. The story made Peggy's stomach feel like a hard knot. "Mother, may I be excused?" she said at last, thinking she wanted to lie down. "I'm not feeling hungry." Then, without waiting for permission, she stood up and left the table, running to her room.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Abner thought over Phoebe's request. It was already evening and the ball was in a few hours. But Phoebe did love to ride that horse. "Not too long," he said. "I'd like for you to be on time for this dance. Remember what I said last time?"

Of course, the last time Phoebe had been late preparing for a dance, Abner had said he'd take her over his knee if she was disobedient again. He hadn't spanked Phoebe in a few years, but he was willing to do so if her stubbornness crossed a line into obstinance. He was willing to grant her a degree of freedom more than most fathers gave their daughters, but he did place some value in etiquette and decorum, after all. "And if you ride into town, please use the side-saddle," he added. With that he headed to his study to read letters, knowing that Phoebe wasn't likely to listen to him on that request.

[Bye_bye_birdie45]

The remainder of the evening went along well. There weren't too many individuals who needed dinner that night, only a few men who decided to turn in early, and when supper came around, Henrietta was glad that she could spend time with her family without having to worry about customers in the meantime. From where they stood in their family kitchen, one could hear the bell ring if someone came down from the bedrooms or if they came through the front door, but otherwise, nobody stood on post until later.

When her son, however, mentioned an incident involving letters being “missing”, and taking a look at how her daughter wasn't eating very much at the table (when, normally, all of her children had rather healthy appetites), Henrietta knew something was amiss. Not to mention, her daughter left the table without permission, something that was rare in itself, and Betty hadn't spoken at dinner once.

“Harry, go upstairs into your room, and don't say things like that,” Henrietta said, and when her son scampered away, frowning about being scolded, she turned to Betty. “The story about the letters: that soldier's bag hadn't truly been left open, had they?”

Betty sighed, and she shook her head. “M' afraid not.”

Henrietta sighed as well, before she excused herself and walked up the stairs towards her daughter's room. “Peggy.” She knocked on the door. “I wish to speak with you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Yes, Papa, I remember, thank you!” Phoebe, not at all worried about how long it was until the ball, grinned widely and gave her father a kiss on the cheek before practically sprinting (and holding up her skirts to do so) to the stable a block behind their large home. They did not own an estate, as many of the Loyalists did, but their home was quite large and lovely in its own way, and for that, she was grateful. Not to mention, there was a heavy terrace with white fences underneath her window and creeping on the wall that helped her get in and out of her bedroom at late hours of the night, whenever she was out with the Sons of Liberty.

Of course, she purposefully ignored the large side-saddle that was near Chesapeake's stable and immediately sought after the standard saddle before hitching it onto the beautiful horse. “Hey, girl,” she said, petting Chesapeake's nose carefully with her hand, and grinning when the horse licked her fingers. “You ready for a ride?”

It wasn't until a few hours later, after happily riding and passing by friends in the town, when Phoebe saw a clock and realized she would have about an hour to prepare for the ball (and even less, if her father wanted her to greet people as they came in), if she managed to gallop Chesapeake the entire way home. Bracing herself for the scolding that she had unintentionally earned, she quickly raced home, ignoring the looks of some of the men and women on the street at the sight of her sitting upright on a horse, and eased the horse back into the stable.

“Rory!” she called, praying the stable hand was nearby, which – thankfully – he was. She was trying to ignore the stains on her dress from riding, and how she obviously smelled like a horse. “Rory, can you please take the saddle off Chesapeake? I have to get inside.”

“Better hurry, miss,” Rory said, getting to work. “Missers DuPont was looking for ye 'bout an hour ago. Somethin' 'bout a Colonel and a Major-General showin' up early.”

Lovely. She was definitely in trouble.

[Renton]

Peggy was sitting on her bed, her hands folded on her lap when she heard a knock at her door. "Come in mother," she said, ruefully. She knew she was going to spill her guilt soon enough; before that she had to collect her mind to ensure she didn't blow her cover. "I... I suppose I should tell you what was bothering me," she said, gesturing for Henrietta to sit next to her. "A Redcoat was trying to talk Betty into selling him tobacco for a lesser price, and he did so with such ungentlemanly, undignified language," she said. "So... I..." she took a deep breath. "I nicked letters from his knapsack. Just as a prank, I promise. But then he lost his mind at Harry and was about to beat him and I intervened."

She looked down ashamedly at the floor. "I've been numb with shame all day for putting him at risk like that."

Peggy was a fairly pious young woman and she believed that there was value in atonement for one's misdeeds. The stealing the letters wasn't what she felt guilty about in this case; it was doing so in so careless a manner that it nearly got her brother in deep trouble.

She looked up at her mother. "I know I did wrong," she said. "And I'm sorry."

~~~~~~~~~

Abner was quite happy to let Phoebe ride when she pleased. She loved it so, and she loved that horse dearly. After writing a letter to some other British officer about some other schmoozing they'd been up to, he began to prepare for the dance. Their home wasn't the sort of full-size manor that perhaps these officers were accustomed to dancing in, but it was large and there was ample room for dancing.

He dressed in a fine green suit and fixed his hair. He was quite pleased with his appearance. He glanced at the clock, a towering cherry wood grandfather clock, and saw that it would soon be time for guests to arrive. He summoned Bertram, his servant. "Is my daughter anywhere to be seen?"

"We'll report to you as soon as she appears, sir," Bertram said.

This was cutting too close. Before long, guests began to arrive, lead by Major-General John Lewis and his son, Colonel Andrew Lewis. Andrew was a handsome young man of 23, and he wore his new stripes proudly. It was almost certain that a man so young had so high a rank because his father was his superior, but that was how the British army often operated. Abner wasn't about to complain about it in the press, and in fact it was the vanity of these officers that would likely lead to a good turnout. He was the favored publisher of the Crown in New York, and everyone wanted a good word in print about themselves.

"I'm looking forward to meeting your daughter," Andrew said, bowing slightly to Abner. "Ah, yes. Phoebe. She's... getting ready," he said. "She's particular in many ways."

He looked over his shoulder to Bertram, who shook his head.

An hour passed, with the band holding off from playing until the hostess could arrive. The guests were getting agitated and Abner could only hold so many conversations. Finally he gave the band the go-ahead to play, right as Bertram whispered in his ear that Phoebe was there.

He went to find her and found her as she entered the manor. "Phoebe!" he said with a hoarse whisper. He recoiled a bit at the obvious smell of the horse she was riding. "You are in appalling condition!" he said. "Get yourself presentable. Every guest has been waiting for you to arrive!" He had half a mind to turn her over his lap and give her a sound spanking right now, but that would likely guarantee that Phoebe wouldn't make an appearance at the dance. Any punishment would have to wait. He just hoped she had good perfume to cover up the scent of a stable.

[Bye_bye_birdie45]

Henrietta didn't even need to put on her stern mother face before Peggy started to speak, and she sat on the bed next to her daughter and listened. It was something that used to occur quite often: they would chat about a variety of things before Peggy retired to bed, but there hadn't been much time to had one-on-one conversations since the Sons of Liberty had been created.

Truthfully, Henrietta was quite proud of her daughter for coming clean about what she'd done – although she was still quite unhappy about Peggy's actions. A girl half her age would know that was wrong, and Peggy had still gone through with it.

Henrietta sighed. “Thank you for telling me what you have done, Margaret.” If nothing else, the use of her legitimate name would let Peggy know that she was definitely in trouble. “What you did was wrong, incredibly wrong, but I'm pleased that you told me what you had done without me having to snoop.” Of course, she had come into her daughter's room knowing exactly what had happened, but at least Peggy hadn't put up a fight over it.

“I want to know one thing, though: are you sorry for stealing the letters, or are you sorry for getting caught?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When Phoebe stepped into the house, she didn't even need to look at her father to know that she was in trouble: the few carriages outside of their house, along with the loud chattering of guests from the doorway, made that clear enough to her that she was exceptionally late. Being exceptionally late while also acting as hostess was practically unthinkable.

With a rather large lump of guilt in her stomach (not for being late, per say, but for certainly disappointing her father), she hastily scrambled upstairs and managed (with the help of one of the two maids of the house, Louise) to get into her party dress and covered up the scent of the stables and her horse in under five minutes. She would certainly need to bathe the next morning to get rid of the smell, but until then, it was the best she could do.

Phoebe carefully got into the front hall without anyone saying anything malicious or commenting on her lateness, until she felt someone tap on her shoulder. She turned, and – of course – there stood Colonel Andrew Lewis. Oh, God, Phoebe thought to herself, giving him a small curtsy. “Colonel Lewis, I apologize for my lateness,” she said in a small voice.

[Renton]

Peggy shook her head at her mother's question. "The latter, if I am to be fully honest with you mother. I.. I wish that wasn't the case. But I admit it felt good taking them, even though that feeling wore off as soon as I realized the potential consequences." She felt tears form in her eyes as she remembered the fear in her brother's eyes as the Redcoat was about to strike him. "I want to be honest, mother. I am sorry. I know that I've sinned by stealing. And I don't want to feel the way I did about it." She looked down and closed her eyes. "Can you forgive me?" she asked, quietly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Abner was glad to see Phoebe emerge looking suitably proper, and surprisingly so considering her state about ten minutes before. Their servants did good work and he would be sure to thank them for it later.

As Phoebe talked with Colonel Lewis, Abner danced with some of the officers' wives who were at the party; he wasn't interested in courting anyone here, especially since the single women were so young. He couldn't fathom marrying a girl as young as his daughter. Abner was quite a good dancer and he took pride in that.

Colonel Lewis seemed immediately taken with Phoebe. He spoke with her for almost the duration of the evening, his eye not wandering to any of the other girls in attendance, and there were many. "It seems your daughter's charms are not lost on my son," Major-General Lewis said as they took a break from the dancing to drink and socialize. Of course, Abner knew that there was a good chance the feelings were entirely one-sided between the Colonel and his daughter, but he appreciated that she was making an effort to talk to the young man. As she talked to the younger man, Abner talked with his father, and by the end of the evening he was told he could expect a sizable donation to his publishing company. Enough to expand publication and even buy a new press! It was a very successful night, all things considered. His mood was lifted, and any anger he'd felt with his daughter was gone. However, he did think that consistent discipline was important, and he still intended to address that once he had the opportunity.