Recalling the hidden compartment under the backseat, she lifted the cushioned seat and looked inside. Three muskets and two knives lay inside—weapons she shouldn’t leave with the enemy. She grabbed a length of rope and tied Clarence’s hands behind his back. Hopefully, Samuel would keep driving for hours, oblivious to his employer’s dilemma. She looked out the window. Mounds of snow lined the road.
She threw the three muskets and knives out a window, tossed out Clarence’s knife, opened the door and jumped.
Snow muffled the sound of her landing, but did little to ease the shock to her body. Moaning, she lifted her head and looked around. Her body was slowly sinking into a drift of snow, the cold seeping through her clothes to settle into her bones. She rolled over onto her backside and looked at the coach in the distance. The forward movement of the coach had caused the door to shut. She had escaped without notice.
She sloshed through the knee-high snow, stepped into an unseen hole and plunged in up to her hips. Icy-hot pain shot through her ankle. She limped to the spot where the muskets and knives had landed and gathered them up. It didn’t take long to realize she couldn’t carry the extra weight all the way back.
Her stiffening limbs objected when she eased onto her knees by the gallows. She burrowed a hole in the snow close to the dead man and dropped in the weapons, keeping one knife for protection.
The gibbet creaked with a rusty scrape as a gust of frigid air blew past. She shivered, watching the snow-covered body sway before her eyes.
“I only hope you will not have company soon.”
The metal groaned in response as the gibbet slowly rotated. The dead man’s face came into view. Two hollow eye sockets stared back at her.
A wave of nausea doubled her over. She grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it to her brow. You cannot give in. She stood, wincing at the pain in her ankle, and hobbled down the road into Boston.
A few blocks down Orange Street, a cart stopped next to her.
“Can I offer you a ride, mistress?”
She glanced up, flexing her grip on the knife inside her woolen cloak. The young driver looked familiar. “Do I know you?”
“I work at the bookseller’s on Hanover Street. I’m delivering books today. I can take you somewhere.”
Of course. He had delivered Josiah’s books months ago. “Yes, p-please.”
He helped her onto the cart, and she gave him directions to her aunt’s south-side house, the closest place of safety. When they arrived, the youth escorted her to the door.
“Thank you so much.” She opened the door and glanced back. He was already driving away.
“Aunt Mary, Caroline!” She limped into the hall, dropping the knife to the floor.
Aunt Mary took one look at her and yelled to Caroline to fetch hot water. She ushered Virginia into the parlor and sat her on the settee by the fire.
“What has happened?” She added wood to the fire.
Virginia’s teeth chattered as she began to shake. “They arrested Quincy. Clarence k-kidnapped me.”
“My stars! You poor dear, are you all right?”
“Yes. Aunt Mary, he’s the B—B-Boston Burglar.”
“Clarence? How do you know?”
“He planted one of the rings he s-stole in Quin’s clothespress, so the redcoats would arrest Quincy instead of him.”
Caroline entered with a large pot of hot water.
“Set it in front of her,” Mary ordered. She dropped to her knees in front of Virginia to pull off her shoes. “Good Lord, lass, your ankle is swollen.”
“Aye.” Virginia cried out when her aunt plunged her feet into the hot water.
Mary dragged a wooden chair close to Virginia and set a plump pillow on it. “Prop your foot up, Ginny. Caroline, tell George to fetch Edward Stanton here, immediately. Quincy has been arrested.”
“Good Lord!” Caroline fled from the room.
Mary sat next to Virginia and took her hand. “Tell me what happened.”
Virginia settled against the cushions to retell the day’s events, then jerked up straight. “Josiah! I have to go to him. He’s hurt and all alone.”
Mary pushed her back. “You’re not going anywhere. When George returns, we’ll send him.”
Virginia had finished her story when a pounding on the front door startled her. “Can that be Edward, so soon?”
Caroline and Mary dashed to the front door. Virginia watched the parlor entrance, waiting for the visitor.
“Josiah!” She laughed when the boy threw himself on her lap and wrapped his arms around her.
“Aunt Ginny, I thought I lost you.”
“No, sweetie. Are you all right?” She examined the blood-matted cut on the side of his head. “Caroline—”
“I know.” Caroline headed for the kitchen. “More hot water.”
“How did ye get away from that scurvy bugger, Aunt Ginny?”
Virginia described her escape once more while she cleaned the cut on Josiah’s brow.
His bottom lip quivered. “I wanted to protect you, but I couldn’t. I came here, looking for help. I untied the coachman, and he ran to Edward Stanton’s house.”
Virginia blinked, fighting off tears she had no time for. “Josiah, you’re the bravest little man I know.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway as George and Edward barged in unannounced.
“Tell me everything,” Edward demanded.
Virginia sighed and retold the story while Josiah cuddled up close.
“George.” Edward passed him a few coins. “Rent a carriage and bring it here immediately.”
“Aye, sir.” George sprinted from the room.
“Do you wish me to come with you?” Virginia asked.
“Yes.” Edward cleared his throat. “Mary, I want you and Caroline to pack some clothes. Your servants, also. Your entire household will come with me.”
“What?” Mary leapt to her feet.
“I cannot keep you safe here. You must move in with me.”
Mary sputtered. “I cannot possibly live in your home. What would people think?”
Edward stepped toward her. “You don’t understand the gravity of this matter. Clarence will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”
“I understand Ginny must live under your protection—”
“Mary,” Edward interrupted her. “If Clarence cannot get his hands on Ginny, he’ll come after you or Caroline or anyone else she cares about in order to lure her into his possession. You’re all in danger.”
Mary gulped. “Caroline, you will inform Edward that he may bully me into living in his house, but he cannot force me to speak to him.”
Caroline grinned. “My aunt says—”
Edward gritted his teeth. “I heard her.”
Monday, February 5, 1770
Virginia limped into Edward’s parlor. Although her ankle had improved, she tried to keep off of it as much as possible. She surveyed the spartan room with dismay. Two plain Windsor chairs flanked the hearth, the mantelpiece above adorned with a single pewter candlestick. The walls and windows remained bare of any decoration; only a plain wooden table rested alongside one wall. Edward’s home on Prince Street had obviously been the domicile of two single men who valued work over comfort.
Her sister sat in one of the Windsor chairs in front of the fireplace.
“Caroline, where is Aunt Mary?”
“She—she’s not in her bedchamber?” Caroline’s brow furrowed as she concentrated on her knitting.
“No, I looked. Where could she be?” Virginia eased into the other wooden chair.
“Are you all right, Ginny?”
“I . . . I’m not sure.” At first Virginia had believed the recent shocking events to be responsible for her bout with nausea, but she had experienced another episode this morning. After a month a
t sea with Quin, she suspected this was not a nervous disorder.
“What’s the latest news about Quincy?” Caroline asked.
“Edward’s solicitor, Mr. Winkle, has requested a meeting with the judge tomorrow. They’re hoping to get the case dismissed without a trial.” Virginia sighed and gazed at the fire. “Poor Quincy. Edward told me his cell is icy cold.”
“Aye, so I heard. I’m making him a scarf and mittens.”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I hope he’ll be released tomorrow. I wish they would let me see him. Where is Aunt Mary?”
Caroline winced when she dropped a stitch. “Now look what you made me do.”
Virginia frowned, suspecting her sister knew more than she was telling. “Where is she?”
“She’ll be back soon. There’s no need to worry.”
“She left? Edward will be furious.” Virginia clutched her middle when her stomach twinged.
“Ginny, are you ill?”
“I don’t think so. I . . . I wanted to talk to Aunt Mary. I believe I’m with child.”
Caroline flung her knitting to the side. “Ginny, that is marvelous news!”
“ ’Twill not be marvelous if the child has no father. Or if he grows up with all of Boston thinking his father’s a criminal.”
Caroline reached over to squeeze her hand. “Everything will be fine.”
“It is not fine. Edward told us not to leave the house. Why did Aunt Mary disobey him?”
“She’s determined to pay Edward back the money he gave her, and Josiah told her about these shops where you can sell your jewelry. So she took Josiah and her old wedding ring. No one will know.”
“I think Edward should know about this.”
“Oh, no, Ginny, you mustn’t tattle on Aunt Mary. She’ll be so vexed with you.”
“Then she can stop talking to me, too.” Virginia limped into Edward’s study.
After hearing about Mary’s escapade, Edward threw on his coat and charged to the door.
“That woman! She’ll learn to mind me.” He slammed the door shut.
Virginia winced. Caroline stood at the entrance of the parlor, shaking her head.
They returned to the parlor and were deep in a discussion about making things for the baby when a loud banging on the front door interrupted them.
“Good Lord!” Virginia jumped in her seat. “Who could that be?”
“I’ll find out.” Caroline dashed to the front door.
Virginia rose to her feet. “Be careful.”
When her sister squealed, Virginia hobbled into the hall and stopped short. “Papa?”
Jamie Munro released Caroline from a big hug and strode toward Virginia. “Ah, lass, ’tis happy I am ye’re all right.” He enveloped her in his arms. “I thought I’d never find you two. I went to Mary’s house, and ’twas all locked up. What is happening here?”
Virginia leaned against his strong chest, breathing in his familiar scent of pipe tobacco and wool. “ ’Tis a long story. Oh, Father, I’m so glad you came.”
“How are Mama and Fergus?” Caroline asked.
“Yer mother and brother are fine. They send their love.” Jamie pulled Caroline toward him so he had an arm looped around each daughter. “Thank God ye warned me, Caroline. I came as fast as I could. Ginny, how could ye marry the bastard who tried to purchase you?”
Virginia stepped back. “Father, he’s not a bastard.”
“Well, actually, he is.” Caroline shrugged when Virginia glared at her.
“Doona fash yerself, lassie. I’ve come to take care of the matter.”
Virginia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Now, doona look all sour-faced at me, Ginny. I’ve come a long way, and I’ll no’ be thwarted.” He planted his fists on his waist. “I mean to kill the bastard.”
Virginia groaned.
Caroline snorted. “You’ll have to wait in line.”
“Have you seen a lady, about so tall, accompanied by a boy?” Edward asked the shop owner.
“Aye.” The shopkeeper spit on a grubby glass case and smeared the grime around with a tattered cloth. “She would have sold me the ring, but that wretched boy told her to try elsewhere. Thought he could force me up on me offer, the little bugger.”
“Thank you.” Edward proceeded down the narrow lane, weaving through piles of snow-covered garbage. At least, most of the refuse was so frozen it didn’t stink. He passed a millinery shop that, by the looks of the half-naked woman in the window, masked a brothel.
How could Mary do this? Her childish behavior put herself and the boy at risk. She must have suffered greatly in the past to be so touchy.
A snowball hit him on the chest. He stopped and watched a group of young boys dressed in ragged clothes run away. Out of a doorway stepped two familiar forms, Mary and Josiah.
“Mary! What are you doing? This is no place for a woman—” He forgot his anger when she ran toward him, her green eyes sparkling.
“Edward, I’m so glad you’re here!”
He smiled. “You’re talking to me again.”
“Of course, this is important. When Josiah and I were in the shop down the street, I noticed a diamond brooch in the glass case. Then, Josiah and I tried this shop, and I saw a ruby ring.”
Edward shrugged. “Do you want me to buy it?”
“No! I recognize it. ’Tis the ring that was stolen from Mrs. Higgenbottom. And I believe the diamond brooch down the street must be the one stolen from Mrs. Oldham.”
Edward stared at her, then laughed. “Do you know what you’ve done, Mary? You’ve saved Quin!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on her mouth.
It took a little time, but Edward convinced the two shop owners he was willing to pay a reward for the capture of the real Boston Burglar. To collect the reward, they were to come to the courthouse the next day and tell what they knew.
Edward escorted Mary and Josiah back home. She had remained silent since he had kissed her. “Are you all right, Mary?”
“Oh, I almost forgot.” She fished out a handful of coins from her purse. “This is the first payment for what I owe you.”
“I don’t want your money.” Edward mounted the steps to his front door.
“But I sold my wedding ring to do this. I’m serious, Edward.”
“I’m serious, too.” He opened the door with a sly smile. “I’ll buy you another.”
“Another what?”
“Another wedding ring.”
Her mouth dropped open. A grinning Josiah slipped past her into the house.
Edward touched her shoulder. “Come in, Mary. ’Tis too cold out here.”
She ambled inside with a dazed look.
He shut the door and called out. “Ginny, I have good news!”
A huge, redheaded man barreled out of his parlor. “There ye are, ye bastard!” The man raised his fists. “Prepare to defend yerself.”
“Who the hell are you?” Edward asked.
Mary gasped. “Jamie! What are you doing here?”
Jamie glared at her. “Stand aside, woman. I’ve come to kill the man.”
Mary leapt in front of Edward. “Ye’ll no’ hurt him!”
Edward leaned over to whisper in her ear, “As much as I love this sign of devotion, Mary, I can fight my own battles.”
“Father.” Virginia tugged at her father’s arm. “He’s not Quincy.”
Jamie glowered at Edward. “He looks like him. But ye’re a wee old for my daughter, don’t ye think?”
“I’m Quincy’s uncle, Edward Stanton.”
Jamie turned to his daughter. “This is no’ the bastard ye married?”
“No, I married another one.” Virginia winced. “Quincy is a fine man.”
“Aye? Then where is this fine man?” Jamie asked.
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Virginia glanced at Edward. “Well, he . . .”
Caroline grinned. “He’s in prison.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Tuesday, February 6, 1770
“Can you describe the man who sold you the ruby ring?” Obadiah Winkle asked as he crossed the courtroom.
The shopkeeper pushed a greasy strand of hair from his face and hooked it behind an ear. “Aye, I can.” He glanced sidelong at the judge. “I didn’t know the ring was stolen.”
“Of course,” Winkle agreed. “The man’s description, please.”
“Well, he had black hair, cut short, like he might wear them fancy wigs, and he was dressed in real fine clothes.”
Colonel Farley rose to his feet. “Your Honor, this man is describing Quincy Stanton. I assure you, I arrested the right man.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you, Colonel.” The judge eyed Quincy with a look of disgust.
Sitting behind the defendant’s table, Quincy kept his face carefully blank and his posture stiff. It was hard to appear calm and dignified when he hadn’t slept or bathed in days. With his dirty, rumpled clothing and unshaven face, he knew he looked every inch a criminal.
“Mr. Stanton, will you please stand?” Winkle asked.
Quincy rose to his feet. He was too exhausted for anger, but still capable of shame. Why had Edward brought Virginia here to witness this? And if circumstances weren’t bad enough, she had her father with her. The large redheaded man was scowling at him as if contemplating different methods of torture.
“Is this the man who sold you the ruby ring?” Winkle asked the shopkeeper.
“No, he ain’t.”
The colonel gaped, then quickly regained his wooden composure. “The witness is mistaken, Your Honor.”
“No, I ain’t.” The shopkeeper twisted in his chair to face the judge. “The man what sold me the ring was shorter and broader. His skin was pale.”
“I see.” The judge frowned at Quincy. “How do you explain the ring found in your clothespress?”
Quincy cleared his throat. “Your Honor, my wife and I were out of town for the month prior to the search. Anyone could have planted the ring during that time in order to incriminate me.”