Virginia nodded. “Aye. Quincy is a spy.”
Jamie stood upright. “Ye have a fine man for a husband, lass. Are ye certain he’s no’ part Scots?”
Friday, February 16, 1770
“I have to wonder, William, why you would come to the home of an accused traitor.” Virginia sat across from Captain Breakwell in the parlor.
He shifted uncomfortably in the plain wooden chair. “I have debated over the wisdom of this, but I feel I should offer my condolences.”
She flinched inwardly. The man had already buried her husband. “We believe these charges will be dropped.”
“May I be of some service to you through this trying time? My investment in a slave ship has given me a small fortune. I could send you away from this distress.”
Her first inclination was to scream at him never to court a woman while her husband yet lived. She gripped her hands together and took a deep breath. “Actually, William, there is a matter where you may be of assistance. So far, the jailer has not allowed me to visit my husband. If you could do something?”
“Of course. It is admirable that you continue support the man—”
“My husband is innocent. I believe he is the victim of a conspiracy.”
The captain frowned. “How so?”
“Quincy’s brother had him arrested for burglary. I’m certain he’s behind this charge of treason, also. He will not stop until he is rid of my husband.”
“Why would Clarence wish his brother harm?”
She explained the situation including Clarence’s attempt to kidnap her, but carefully avoided anything incriminating to her husband. “We can prove Clarence is the Boston Burglar. He’ll do anything to reestablish his wealth, even if it means killing his own brother.”
William fell back against the wooden frame of the chair, his mouth agape. “I had no idea. What an unscrupulous wretch! Do you plan to turn Clarence in to the authorities?”
“Edward wanted to use the proof to force Clarence to return to England, but we don’t know where he’s hiding.”
“I know where he is. Mrs. Higgenbottom offered him a room in hopes he would court Priscilla.”
Virginia winced. “Poor Priscilla.”
“Yes,” William agreed with a frown. “I saw her a few days ago. She’s not at all happy about the matter.”
“Of course not. No woman could be safe married to Clarence. He threatened to dispose of me after obtaining my wealth. Oh, dear.” Virginia gripped the arms of her chair. “Priscilla is an heiress, is she not?”
William leapt to his feet. “She could be in danger.”
Caroline entered with a tea tray. “I have brought refreshments.”
“My apologies. I cannot stay.” William sprinted out the front door.
Caroline watched his quick exit with a confused look. “What happened to him?”
“He’s charging to the rescue.” Virginia stood and paced about the room. “Has Edward returned from his visit with Quin?”
“No.” Caroline set the tray down. “Because of the captain, I made some real tea. Would you like a cup? It might help calm you.”
“How can I remain calm with Quincy in jail?”
“Mr. Winkle said this could drag on for weeks. You must think of the baby.”
Virginia stopped at the window and leaned her brow against the snow-frosted glass. She shivered as the cold seeped into her. How many cold, sleepless nights must Quin endure? “You mean I should think of the baby because it will be all that remains of my husband.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Caroline pulled her away from the window. “Come, sit down. We must remain hopeful.”
Virginia sat and listened halfheartedly to Caroline’s description of the magnificent cradle Jamie planned to build for the baby. The front door creaked as it opened and shut. She watched Edward tramp across the hall into his study without a word. Her eyes blurred with tears. There was no good news to report.
“Excuse me, Caroline.” Virginia rose to her feet and ambled to the entrance of the study. Edward sat slumped over his desk, his face resting in his hands. “Did you deliver the scarf and mittens Caroline made?”
Edward lowered his hands and nodded his head. “Aye. And the blankets. They should help to keep him warm.”
“Captain Breakwell stopped by. He says Clarence is staying with the Higgenbottoms.”
“I see.” Edward stared blankly at his desk.
“We could force Clarence to leave.”
“Aye, or I could turn him in.” Edward surged to his feet and strode to the sideboard to pour a drink. “Splendid! I can see both my nephews hang. We can make it a family reunion.”
She winced at the pain that shook his voice. “We mustn’t give up hope.”
“Ginny, this is my fault! I convinced Quin to spy. I talked him into it.” He slammed his glass down on the sideboard, spilling the contents. “Damnation! I was so stupid, so bloody patriotic, I didn’t stop to consider the danger.”
He beseeched her with tear-filled eyes. “What have I done? Quin is a son to me.”
Her eyes stung with hot tears. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. Quincy understood the risk he was taking.”
Edward paced toward the hearth and planted his fists on the mantel. He slouched forward, gazing at the fire. “There will be a hearing in a few days. The governor wants to make an example of Quincy and send him to England for trial.”
He would be gone forever. Her heart constricted in her chest. The tears brimmed over to stream down her cheeks. She drew in a shaky breath. “I have to see him before he goes.”
“No.”
“Captain Breakwell will obtain permission from the jailer so I can see him.”
Edward shook his head. “Ginny. The jailer doesn’t mind if you see Quin or not. I just told you that to spare your feelings.”
“What are you saying?”
Edward turned his head, regarding her sadly. “Quin doesn’t want to see you.”
She stumbled back a step. “No.”
“He doesn’t want you to see him in jail. He has his pride.”
“Pride? ’Tis more like shame. I demand to see him, Edward. He needs me.”
“It is the one request he has made.”
She marched up to Edward. “I am with child. He has the right to know.”
“With child?” Edward pushed away from the mantel. “Bless you, Ginny. I will take you. Quin needs to hear good news for a change.”
“What news?” Jamie strolled into the study.
Virginia wiped her cheeks dry, savoring the small victory. “Edward is taking me to see Quin.”
Jamie raised his eyebrows. “Och, that’s good. The lad has come to his senses now?”
Her small moment withered. She slumped into a chair. “You knew he didn’t want to see me?”
Jamie touched her shoulder. “Ginny, the man does love you.”
She shook her head. “I’m not so sure.” Why was Quincy rejecting her now?
Jamie snorted. “What is the problem with the two of you? Ye canna believe ye love each other?”
“He has never told me.”
“Ye heard him, lass. When they arrested him, all he could think aboot was you and yer safety. He loves you more than himself.”
She made a sound like a sob confused with a laugh. “More than himself? Papa, he doesn’t love himself very much!”
Jamie crossed his arms across his broad chest. “Well, he’s certain to be learning quick. Any man facing death should acquire a wee amount of self-appreciation. I’m sure, in time, he’ll realize how much he loves you.”
She shook her head. “He doesn’t have time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Monday, February 19, 1770
“Damn.”
Quin’s curse, softly spoken, did lit
tle to make Virginia feel welcome in the dismal surroundings. She peered down the empty corridor as her eyes adjusted to the dark.
Her footsteps on the stone floor echoed about her ears. The stench of full and forgotten chamber pots assailed her nostrils. A thick wall of stone rose to her left, gray and damp to the touch. To her right, a row of iron bars ran the length of the hallway, interrupted by brick walls to separate the different cells.
A sliver of a window, positioned high on the back wall of the first cell, faintly lit the room with differing shades of gray. A blast of frigid air blew in the uncovered window and rustled the loose rushes on the stone floor. The cell was empty.
With a shudder, she proceeded down the corridor. “Quin?”
“Who’s that?” A gruff voice emerged from the second cell. “Come closer, darlin’. Let me see you.”
“Ginny, stay close to the wall.” Quin’s voice came from the cell at the end of the hallway.
She veered closer to the stones just as the man in the second cell made a grab for her through the bars. With a yelp, she jumped back.
“Dammit, Ginny. This is no place for a lady.” Quin stood, a grimy cheek pressed against the bars as he watched her progress. “Why did you come here?”
“I had to see you.”
“Like this?” He stepped back as she hastened to him. Dark circles lined his eyes while four-day-old whiskers shaded his jaw.
“Yes. You’re my husband. For better or worse.”
“I’ve certainly provided you with the worst.” His wry smile faded. “And it only took me two months.”
She curled her fingers around the icy metal bars. “You provided me with the best.”
His eyes glimmered with moisture. “Thank you. It was the happiest two months of my life.” He turned his back and roamed toward the back of the cell.
She pressed against the bars. “Quincy.” How could she reach him? He was retreating into this jail of cold rock, distancing himself from her to dull the pain.
He stopped at the back wall. Splaying his hands against the glistening stone, he leaned forward and rested his forehead. Snowflakes drifted through the small window above him and landed on his head and shoulders.
“Come away from there, Quin. ’Tis too damp and cold.”
“What could happen? I could freeze to death. Or catch a fatal illness. Both preferable to what awaits me.”
She gripped the bars tighter. “We brought blankets to keep you warm.”
He sighed and ambled over to the wooden bench that served as his cot. “Thank you.” He sat on the blankets, rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward to study his hands. Slowly, he eased a silver ring down a finger of his left hand.
“Caroline knitted the scarf and mittens for you. We’re all very worried about you.”
He remained silent, sliding the ring up and down his finger.
“Is there anything else we can bring you?”
“There are a few things you can do for me.”
She pressed her face against the cold, clammy bars. “Anything.”
“Sell the business and leave Boston. Go home with your father. With the money you’ll make, you can live comfortably—”
“Stop it! Stop talking like you’re dead.”
He snapped his gaze toward her. “I am dead. It was wonderful, Ginny, but it is over. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can get on with your life.”
“No! I love you, Quincy.”
He leapt to his feet. “How can you? I failed you as a husband. At least I provided you with enough funds—”
“Stop!” She reached an arm between the bars, stretching toward him. Tears filled her eyes. “I only wanted you. Please, don’t give up hope.”
“I have hope—hope that you’ll put this behind you and find joy in your life. I want you to be happy, Ginny.”
The tears rolled down her cheeks. “I don’t want happiness if you’re not with me.”
He paced about the small cell, kicking the rushes with his shoes. Small clouds of dust and debris floated around his feet. He stopped and stared aimlessly at the wall in front of him. “There’s a part of me that cringes at the thought of you finding happiness with another man. But I know that is selfish. I do want you to be happy. I love you.”
She covered her mouth to stifle the sobs that threatened to break loose. Now she heard the words she had longed for? Now, when she was going to lose him?
He grimaced. “Dammit, I’m causing you more pain. Go now, Ginny, and leave Boston. I would not have you endure the shame of being the widow of a criminal.”
She wiped her cheeks. “I could never be ashamed of you.”
He wandered to the back wall. “Thank God we have no children.”
She froze. “What?”
“I grew up with shame. It is not something I would wish on a child. Take Josiah and go home with your father.”
She staggered back. The news of their child would give him no comfort. Her back collided with the stone wall. Cold shivers shot down her spine.
“Good-bye, Ginny,” he whispered.
“No! I’m not leaving town. I’ll see you again.” She raced down the gloomy corridor and wrenched open the door to the jailer’s office.
She remained silent on the walk home with Edward.
He guided her across the street of churned-up mud and snow to his house. “Did you tell Quin about the baby?”
She moistened her chapped lips. Cold air stung her swollen, tear-filled eyes. “No.”
Edward sighed. “I shouldn’t have taken you.” He held her arm as they ascended the icy steps.
“He wants me to leave Boston.” She stepped into the hall. “He wants me to sell the business and leave, like this was all a bad dream.”
Edward closed the door behind them. “From Quin’s standpoint, it must look entirely hopeless, but I’ll not give up.”
She removed her cloak and shook off the snow. “Neither will I.”
Caroline peeked out of the parlor. “There you are. We have guests.”
Virginia wandered into the parlor. Priscilla Higgenbottom dashed toward her and embraced her. Captain Breakwell paced about the room.
“I’ll bring refreshments.” Caroline headed to the kitchen.
Edward hovered at the parlor door, frowning at the redcoat officer.
Captain Breakwell bowed. “Excuse our intrusion into your home, sir, but I didn’t know where else I could take Miss Higgenbottom.”
Virginia noted Priscilla’s red, swollen cheek. “What happened?”
Priscilla grasped Virginia’s hands. “It was terrible! I don’t know what I would have done if William hadn’t been there.” She glanced at the captain with adoring eyes. “He saved me.”
“Saved you from what?” Edward asked.
“Clarence.” Priscilla collapsed into a wooden chair. “He attacked me.”
“Good Lord.” Virginia sat across from her. “What happened?”
“William calls on me every afternoon while Mama is resting in her room.” Priscilla blushed and gave the captain an apologetic look. “Mama doesn’t quite approve of him.”
“I rented a carriage to take Priscilla for a ride in the country,” William explained. “She went upstairs for her cloak.”
“I found Clarence in my bedchamber, digging through my jewelry,” Priscilla said.
Virginia winced. Clarence must be short of funds again.
Priscilla continued, “I ran toward the stairs, but he caught up with me. He told me he had bought me a gift and was putting it in my room for a surprise. I knew he was lying for William had told us the truth about him.”
“You know he’s the burglar?” Virginia asked.
“Yes, but Mama refuses to believe it. She still thinks your husband—” Priscilla winced. “I’m sorry.”
&n
bsp; “That’s all right. Continue, please,” Virginia urged.
“When I told Clarence I would tell the authorities, he slapped me. I ran down the stairs, but he followed me. Then William dashed out of the parlor and punched Clarence again and again.” Priscilla beamed at the captain. “He was so brave.”
“Where is Clarence now?” Edward asked.
“I left him knocked out at the Higgenbottoms’,” William said. “I was more concerned with Priscilla’s safety at the time, so I brought her here in the coach. I didn’t think you would mind.”
“No, not at all. If you will excuse me.” Edward bowed and left the room.
Virginia followed him out. “Edward, what will you do?”
“I’ll convince Clarence to go home, but if he ever sets foot in America again, wreaking havoc with my family, I vow I’ll kill him myself.”
“Wait. He may be dangerous. Take my father with you.”
Edward shook his head. “Jamie should stay here to protect you.”
Virginia watched Edward leave, then headed back to the parlor. She stopped short in the entryway. Captain Breakwell and Priscilla were locked in a passionate embrace, totally unaware of her presence. She eased back and tiptoed to the kitchen.
Caroline glanced up as she placed cups and saucers on a tray. “ ’Tis almost ready.”
Virginia sat at the kitchen table. “I believe they would prefer to be left alone for a while.”
Caroline raised her eyebrows. “Priscilla and William?”
Virginia nodded. “At least some good has come from all this.”
Tuesday, February 20, 1770
Edward saw the dismay on her face as they neared the coffeehouse on Union Street. “What’s wrong, Virginia?”
She stalled at the entrance. “Quin took me here once.”
Edward examined her face—the red swollen eyes edged with dark circles, the raw nose, and chapped lips. He opened the door. “I’m sorry. This is where Johnson asked us to meet him.”
With a sigh, she entered. “I don’t understand how Quincy’s secretary can help us.”
Edward led her to a table in a corner. He positioned a chair close to Virginia and sat. “Johnson is not a secretary, but an employer.”