The Courier of Caswell Hall Read Online Free PDF Page A

out what she had done.
    She reached for Mother’s hand.
    The elegant Lady Caswell wore a gown the color of the evergreen trees that grew along the road to Williamsburg. Her gown swept over-top a cream-colored petticoat, and the ribboned curls in her blond wig smelled of pomade and a trace of her lavender-scented perfume.
    Lydia squeezed her hand. “You must go. You are already dressed.”
    “I will undress.”
    Lydia shook her head. “The house will be quiet, and I can rest this morning.”
    “But you need medicine and soup and—”
    Lydia stopped her. “You will return before dinner. Prudence will care well for me while you are gone.”
    Mother’s gaze traveled back to the door, where Prudence stood. “Get the laudanum.”
    Prudence nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
    Mother held Lydia’s hand tightly. “We will be home by one.”
    “I know.”
    “Stay in your bed.”
    This time Lydia didn’t reply.
    Her mother kissed her forehead and tucked the coverings close around Lydia before she left. Lydia wasn’t ill, but she was plenty tired from being up most of the night, worrying that the stranger would die, worrying that her family would find him.
    Had he survived? His passing might eliminate a number of complications, but even so, she didn’t want him to die. Perhaps he would be well enough this morning to continue on his journey.
    Or maybe he was already gone.
    Prudence returned with the laudanum and a spoon.
    “What shall I do with it?” she asked, holding it out as Lydia climbed out of bed.
    “Perhaps we should take it with us to Elisha’s room.”
    “But—”
    “You may tell the servants I have recovered.”
    Prudence shook her head. “I shall take no part in this deceit.”
    “But I have recovered.” Lydia glanced toward her window. “Has my family departed?”
    “The coach just left.”
    Lydia sat up. “Then we shan’t delay.”
    Prudence laced Lydia’s cotton stay over her shift and helped her dress in her petticoat, which was scented with violet water, and a jacket before pinning her hair behind a cap that matched the light color of peach in her attire. Tucking the laudanum and spoon in the small pocket under her petticoat, Lydia climbed down the servants’ staircase alone so as not to indict Prudence in her scheme.
    The clear blue in the sky and white mantle of snow brushed a bit of color across the dull browns of tree limbs and the grayish blue of the river. She rushed across the melting snow, toward the coach house.
    Elisha had driven her family to church. He would keep her secret, but some of the other Negroes might tell the overseer that she’d gone outside while the family was away. The overseer would surely report back to Father.
    When she reached the coach house, Lydia looked both ways but didn’t see anyone on the grounds. Taking a deep breath, she climbed the steps and knocked on Elisha’s door.

Chapter Four
    The room above the coach house had cooled this morning, the logs disintegrating into black stubs of coal. The stranger on Elisha’s bed didn’t stir with Lydia’s presence, and for a moment, she thought he had indeed perished during the night. But as she stepped closer, she could see the slight rise and fall of the blankets piled on his chest. Somehow this man had survived his frigid swim in the James.
    She looked out the window at the thread of water winding in the distance. Was the Royal Navy looking for one of its sailors? And if he was in the navy, why wasn’t he dressed in a red coat and white breeches like the men she’d seen passing through Williamsburg last month?
    If he was a deserter, she would have to turn him in . . . but she’d heard terrible stories of what the officers did to deserters. After saving his life, she hated to think of his being shot or hanged.
    The air might have cooled, but sweat continued to bubble on the man’s forehead. He was younger than she’d thought last night. Perhaps just thirty years of age or even five and twenty. His sandy-brown