Mistress Madcap/Chapter 20
MISTRESS CONDIT entered the kitchen one stormy day toward the end of March to find Charity crouched beside the fire weeping bitterly.
"Why, my child!' she exclaimed, hurrying to her to draw her into her motherly embrace. "What be the matter?"
"Hitty!" sobbed Charity. "Hitty is gone!"
"Gone!" repeated Mistress Nancy, who had come running down the stairs at that moment.
"Gone!" echoed Mistress Condit. "What meanst thou, Cherry?"
Charity held out a crumpled note. "The Indian brought this," she explained brokenly. "He did not want Hitty to go with him—he was setting forth to Newark; but she would go, Mother!"
"The madcap!" ejaculated Mistress Condit; but to the others' amazement she said it resignedly. She turned to Mistress Nancy. "The Indian has ever seemed to protect her," she explained. "I believe no harm will come to her while she is with him. I know not why I think this save that it has been so before."
Mistress Nancy picked up the note and read it.
"Why, this is from that neighbor lad ye were telling me of, Mistress Condit," she said in surprise.
Charity had hushed her sobs, reassured by her mother's composure. "Aye," she interrupted eagerly. "That is why Hitty went. Mother. She thought mayhap though Young Cy wrote the note, Father would be with him. And Master Jones, too!" For Squire Condit's neighbor, not long after his own lawless abduction by the Tories, had been seized while riding home one dark night by these same men and despite the efforts, since, of the "Jersey Blues" to discover his whereabouts had disappeared.
"Perhaps 'tis true," answered Mistress Condit thoughtfully. "Read us the note, Nancy."
"'To whoever reads this,'" began Mistress Nancy obediently, "'know that the Americans who were carried to ye British prison, have been detained by one Jaffray on board ship on ye Passaic River near Newark despite his promise to carry them back to Newark and there set free.' It is signed, 'Cyrus Jones, Junior.'"
"Doubtless the note was written by Young Cy and given ye Indian to obtain help," observed Mistress Condit. She rose abruptly. "I think I shall go to Mistress Jones and tell her that her son has been heard from at last," she announced.
"But the rain!" protested Mistress Nancy.
"I am not fearful o' rain," returned the other smilingly, throwing her cape around her. "Stay you with Mistress Nancy, Cherry—I shall soon return," she admonished the little girl, who was watching her preparations for a walk through the rain with gloomy eyes.
When she had gone Chanty heaved a deep sigh. Mistress Nancy, who had taken up her knitting, glanced at her sympathetically.
"Dost want to hear a fairy tale?" she asked.
The other nodded eagerly.
"But I fear it has a sad ending," warned Mistress Nancy.
"Perhaps you can make it a happy ending just this once," suggested Charity hopefully. But the other shook her head.
"However, here be the tale," she began briskly. And Charity smiled with pleasure. The story, even with a sad ending would be nice!
"Once upon a time there lived a Princess who was in love with a Prince from a distant country. The Prince was visiting her city studying medicine."
"Like John when he did go to New York Town!" Charity clapped her hands.
"Aye—like John!" Mistress Nancy's eyes were upon her knitting. "Well, they were very happy—at least, the Princess was, until another maid from Eng—from a distant country came a-visiting, and she, too, fell in love with the Prince. She was a flighty maid, given to liking many young men, so when the Princess caught the Prince smiling at this maid one day, she was very angry. She said naught, however, and so time passed until a masked ball was given by one of the fine gentlemen o' the city. The Prince told the Princess he would mask as Night, in somber garb o' black, so she went as Starlight, in gown o' silver.
"When the Princess arrived that night, she looked eagerly around for the Prince and at last she spied him at the other end of the garden. She knew him at once, despite his mask, for he was the only one present in garb of black. But when she drew near him, she saw"
Mistress Nancy paused abruptly. Her hands dropped into her lap and she sat staring into the fire until Charity squirmed impatiently.
"She saw?" prompted the latter. "What did she see, dear Nancy?"
Mistress Nancy started and picked up her knitting. Charity wondered vaguely if the sparkle in her eyes were tears; but her voice was cheerful.
"She saw, little maid, that the Prince was not alone. He was walking with a lady in gown o' silver, much like the Princess wore. Then, as they neared a bower"
"What is a bower?" asked Charity's matter-of-fact little voice.
"'Tis a lovely spot in woodland or garden of roses or vines, designed for love's sweet tarrying," answered Mistress Nancy dreamily. "But when the maid and the Prince stopped within this bower, the Princess knew the maid was that one from overseas. As the Princess came close—for she had been hurrying, she was at their very heels—she saw—oh, Cherry"
Once more Mistress Nancy's work dropped into her lap, once more her eyes sought the fire.
"But, Mistress Nancy," came Charity's plaintive voice, "always ye do stop at the very best part o' the tale!"
This time Mistress Nancy turned and caught Charity to her, so that the rest of the story came tumbling to its brief end through her curls.
"I cry your pardon, dear," said Mistress Nancy's muffled voice. "I am but a stupid teller o' tales. The Princess saw the Prince stoop and kiss the other maid and she heard him whisper, "I love you!"
"Oh!" Charity's face was shocked. She drew away to stare up at Mistress Nancy. Obviously, the story was ending very badly! "What did the poor Princess do then?"
"She crept away home like a little bird with a broken wing," said Mistress Nancy, after a pause. "So she was. Charity, for the wings o' her love were broken when she heard the Prince whisper the words to another maid that he had breathed to her."
They were sitting silent, then, when there came a cry from without, Mistress Nancy ran to the door and stood peering out at the rain. It was dusk and she could see no one at first; but at last she made out the figure of a woman running toward her from the gate. As the other neared her she gave a shocked exclamation.
"Mistress Briggs! You, ill, and out in such weather as this!"
She drew her in gently and over to the fire.
"I come for help! Miranda is being bullied by ye Tories—is, forsooth, tied to a chair by that villain Hawtree, and e'en my husband is feared to interrupt! Oh, this terrible war!" And poor Mistress Briggs dissolved into tears.
Mistress Nancy stood pondering a moment in thought, then, with an air of decision, moved over to where her cape hung and put it on.
"Why, where be going?" asked Charity, in astonishment.
"To help Miranda. Stay you here, Charity, and keep the fire going. Canst come with me, Mistress Briggs?"
"Aye." The older woman got heavily to her feet and, during the long, anxious walk back to her home, outlined the situation as she had left it. She had not exaggerated it. A sorry sight met their eyes as they lifted the latch and entered Mistress Briggs's kitchen. Ten or more hard-faced men were lounging around, muddying the spotless floor with their dirty boots. In the center of the room, the target of their rude wit and wrath, sat Miranda, bound, as her mother had said, to a chair, while Squire Briggs, his face gray, sat intimidated upon a stool. He was protesting feebly as the two newcomers entered.
Mistress Nancy marched straight up to Hawtree and spoke to him haughtily. "Unloose the maid!" she commanded.
Hawtree, taken aback, stared at her for a moment with dropped jaw. Then, at the absurdity of this slip of a girl asserting authority over him he laughed in her face. No whit discomposed, Mistress Nancy drew out a paper from her reticule and handed it to him.
"Read that!" she directed curtly. "Then free Mistress Miranda!"
Hawtree stared from her to the paper he had taken mechanically; but as his eye fell upon the signature at the bottom of a brief paragraph, he uttered an exclamation.
"Zounds—why, it's Lord Howe's own name here!"
Mistress Nancy said nothing, merely waited disdainfully.
"What be it?" Gathering courage Squire Briggs shuffled to his feet and crowded past the other men to Hawtree's side. Hawtree, immersed in the paper, answered him involuntarily by reading aloud.
"This gives Mistress Nancy Livingston authority to ask any courtesy of any Loyalist which, by order of Lord Howe, shall be granted her."
He looked up and, like the bully he was, cringed before the girl's challenging gaze.
"I cry your pardon, mistress!" He took off his hat, awkwardly enough. "'Tis most unfortunate this should have occurred. I hope—I hope—'twill not be carried to his lordship's ears, though," and here he lifted defiant eyes, "it seemed necessary to bind the girl in the course o' duty!"
"Making war upon women seems to be your duty, in sooth!" retorted Mistress Nancy grimly. "Unloose the girl and see that ye confine your operations to more proper ones, as befits a British officer!"
Two of the men were untying Miranda, but at that moment a sentry, posted at the door, spoke hurriedly.
"Horsemen come!" he cried. "Away!"
They were none too soon. The Tories, save Squire Briggs, had scarcely quitted the house when the door was thrown open and keen-faced man dressed home-made blue uniform stood there. Beyond, in the rainy dusk, other similarly attired men waited.
Squire Briggs, cursing his stupidity in remaining when the other Tories had fled, gazed wildly around him, his narrow eyes seeking escape. Then happened a strange thing. Mistress Briggs sprang toward the fireplace and running her work-gnarled hand up and down the wall beside it seemed to press upon a spring, for there, all at once, appeared an opening.
"This way, Husband!" she screamed hysterically. "Do not let the 'Blues' take ye! Run, run!"
But Squire Briggs did not move. His frightened glance saw the futility of it. He knew he could not escape. Even while his wife sank sobbing to her knees he shook his head.
Mistress Nancy went over and helped the weeping woman to her feet, trying to persuade her to retire to her own room. But Mistress Briggs pushed her unheedingly aside and, drawing away from the kindly hands, ran to her husband.
"Ah, Elijah, why did ye not run?" she sighed, her arms around his neck and her head upon his breast. He shook her off impatiently, and Mistress Nancy mentally placed yet another bad mark after his name for so spurning affection which he little deserved.
"No one but a fool like you, Thyrza, would have thought I could escape," he sneered. "Well, Captain Littell, I doubt not ye are crowing over arresting me at last; but I warn ye, 'twill bring bitter trouble to this neighborhood an ye do harm to me."
"Bitter trouble already brought to this neighborhood," answered the other gravely. "And mainly through you, Elijah Briggs. I therefore arrest ye in His Excellency's name. All right, Dodd!"
There was a dead silence as three of the men entered quietly and tied Squire Briggs's hands behind him. Even Mistress Briggs's sobs were hushed as she watched, and Mistress Nancy had to grant the little man a meager sort of dignity when he marched out in the midst of his captors, though he went without one word of farewell to his family.
When the door had closed behind them, Mistress Nancy approached Miranda, who, freed of her fetters, stood chafing her wrists with sullen face.
"I hope ye will not feel the effects o' this to-morrow," said Mistress Nancy, kindly. To her surprise and discomfort the girl vouchsafed her no thanks, merely nodding her head coldly before turning upon her heel and quitting the kitchen.
Mistress Briggs, too engrossed in her own grief to notice her daughter's inexplicable and ungrateful behavior, looked up when, murmuring a word of leavetaking, Mistress Nancy stepped toward the door.
"Nay"—she put out her hands impulsively—"do not go without our thanks, dear Mistress Nancy! Ye do not blame me for trying to help my husband?"
"Why should I?" returned Mistress Nancy. "He is your husband. I doubt not I should have done the same."
"He was not always thus. He was such a fresh-faced lad, when young, though ever prone to set too much Store by moneys and land," went on Mistress Briggs, with a sigh. "But 'tis the war has made him so hard!"
"Nay, Mother, art wrong!" exclaimed Miranda's scornful young voice from the doorway. "He was always mean! How can you delude yourself?"
"Perhaps because she loves him," answered Mistress Nancy smilingly.
"For my part, I wish he would never return!" said Miranda bitterly. But at the look upon her mother's face she suddenly broke down and ran to her, weeping, so that when Mistress Nancy departed she left them comforting each other.