Bride of Liberty

Chapter I

"But, mother Charlotte Bayley said "is it necessary to do all this? There is no one else who sprinkles sand on the floor of the parlor. And there is certainly no one who takes to sweep it into swirling patterns and then afterwards locking the door for the whole lot…"-

Victoria Bayley watched her youngest daughter:

"Ach my child", she kindly said, you could never understand this…"-

There was a strange unfamiliar tone to her language, Victoria Bayley was born Victoria Van Rijn and she led her house, as the Dutch always had done it.

"Oh I know, I know! Charlotte blurted out- "Grandfather Van Rijn was a patron during the Dutch government here in New York and his father the same before him, but mother; we live in the year 1774 and not in the old days. And I am not Dutch; I am English! I hate this house here! Why on earth can't we live in a Georgian house build of red bricks like everyone else! Every time I come home and see all these yellow, pale red, blue and red bricks in the patterns of our walls I could die instantly, mother – I really could!"

Victoria stopped working with carefully sweeping the pure white sand on the floor together in intricate patterns and said: - "Oh you probably won't die, but if you do not get a little more education in life, it could be, that it came to sting you. Now run along and get some fresh air. I will finish the work here. Ach Gott to have two daughters and no sons is truly a haunting for me! No more than 15 years of age and she already has troubled fumes in her little head!"

"I'm sorry dear mother"- Charlotte said remorse given but nevertheless she put the rice broom in the corner and danced happily out through the hall delighted to be relieved from the tedious work in the drawing room. When she came out the front porch, she could hear her sister Mary play on the spinet in the living room. Tones flowed in a small clear trill vibrating through the air. Charlotte thought bitterly; there is no justice in this world. Why has Mary inherited all the Van Rijn's beauty and all the Bayley genus skills?

The beautiful Mary Bayley, people always said. And Mary had silver blond hair, light blue eyes and a mouth, which everyone wanted the pleasure to kiss; her figure was good and didn't really needed to be tightened in with a corset, and the men's eyes followed its contours with a live interest, which they would never dream of sacrificing it for Charlotte.

I am as stiff as a stick-, Charlotte thought to herself nearly in tears; - my nose strives upwards, and there are even freckles upon it. And there is no one – not even Thomas – who has ever told me, that my eyes are like flowers. They have the same color as penny pieces and my hair – oh god my steed Susie's mane is prettier than mine -!

Inside the living room Mary suddenly laughed happily, and her clear soprano rose above the music. Two or three other voices chimed into the laughter – deep sounding, masculine voices.

Oh, how could she! Charlotte was boiling from rage: - "if it were me, who had Thomas, I would never even look to another man…"-

But you don't have Thomas, she said to herself. He has intended to marry Mary. Father has already sanctioned the party. The wedding is to be on September 5th – next month already. And besides, Mary is your sister, my sweet girl…

And then suddenly it dawned upon her that it was almost as if she were to die on the 5th. But she knew very well that it wouldn't kill her, she would of course go on living with the awareness, that…

The little landau suddenly appeared from around the corner of the house. It was Michael who drove, and his mother sat on the backseat with a little umbrella in her hand.

"I am going to visit your aunt Heide", Victoria said – "Tell your father…" "Yes Mother"  - Charlotte replied carelessly and immediately forgot.

And then she just sat there on the porch outside her father's house in William Street, not far from Wall, almost right in the center of New York City in the year of our lord 1774, while she of all her powers exerted herself to be unhappy.

In the top of the carob trees that cast their cool shadows over William Street the cicadas began to sing, when Charlotte heard their slender sound she suddenly realized, how quiet it had become from inside the living room and she thought to herself: Now they are probably playing one of their disgusting kissing games again. But in the next moment she had to admit to herself that if she could play the kissing games with Thomas then it would definitely not be disgusting, that's for sure: Charlotte was a thoroughly honest and truthful girl.

She could hear the cows bellowing now. It sounded distant and subdued, as a deep bell tone that resounded off in the wind. So was the elder Ebenezer, their Negro servant, by chasing the animals' home from the pastures west of Broadway. Charlotte could then mostly figure out what the time then was. Within a few minutes her father James Bayley would come walking up through the street from his offices in Maiden Lane three blocks from here.

And she thought: - I will talk to father about this, when he comes, I will say to him: father what will a poor girl do, when she is in love with a man, who…-

But of course it was only daydreaming's. The thought alone of asking her father a question of that nature, filled her with a paralyzing fear. And that was the worst: that she didn't have anyone to talk to. There wasn't a mother's soul in the entire city of New York; she could lift her heart for.

Her mother might listen to her. But then it always ended up with her mother giving her a decoction of sulfur and syrup, so that she could sweat the anxiety out of her body. That was her mother's cure for any disease – even for unrequited love.

Charlotte thought: I wonder if she has ever felt like this for father, how I feel for Thomas? You never really know when it comes to the Dutch. They conceal their feelings so thoroughly…

It was actually funny though, that her father hadn't turned up yet. Maybe he sat in a tap room and got himself a glass of apple brandy with Mr. Page. Thank god they don't argue with each other anymore now; it wouldn't look great if family-in-laws went into a brawl together…

Now they were laughing again inside the living room and she heard two of the young boys say goodbye to Mary. Charlotte could recognize their voices: it was the Gilmore twins, George and Henry. Now they came out from within, did hardly enough bother to greet Charlotte and walked away down through the street.Boys! Charlotte thought frowning. And then he who still was in there – Millard Whitney – he was the worst of them all.

I hate him! Charlotte thought. I would much rather, that he was like the rest of them and only had eyes for Mary. But he only does it when Thomas isn't here; as soon as Thomas shows up, Millard always tries to kiss me…I hate…

She didn't even get to finish her last thought. The small open wagon that now drove up in front of the gate had arrived from Broadway, and she hadn't even seen it. But she saw it now and suddenly she was breathless. Whether it applied to her life, she couldn't move, and she just stayed where she was as Thomas Page waved cheerily to her, before he climbed down the wagon and tied the two horses to the iron ring in the door post.

He came walking up towards her now. She had to get up shake his hand and curtsy. She had to say something to him, anything. But what in the world would she say? What words should she use? She should say: Thomas, my Thomas! She could say: your eyes are so blue so blue. And they always laugh. How come have you gotten these eyes my Thomas? What have they to do in a face as brown as a Native American's, beneath a mane so black that not even a night sky without stars can measure it?But instead she said: - "Why Thomas! You're not wearing a wig today?" She knew that it was a stupid remark. But Thomas's mouth went wider in his meager face, and small crows appeared in his eye hooks:

"My own fur is good enough. That I do not require another mans,"- he laughingly said "You have…changed" Charlotte said helplessly. – "Your clothes…you have always dressed so beautifully!"

Thomas glanced down his simple brown coat that was quite devoid of strings, gold threads and embroidery. His vest was yellow brown and his knickers had the same color as the coat. Even his shoes were quite simple, with simple silver buckles, the triangular hat he held under his arm were also brown and unostentatious like the rest of his suit. But the Page-family were maybe even more wealthy than the Bayley's and Charlotte had many times seen Thomas dressed a la francaise: in sky blue silk, embroidered with silver threads and with a white wig, that had been so expensive that a poor man could have lived at least a year for them. And still there was a flash of pride in his in his blue eyes, when he now glanced down his simple clothing and calmly said:

"In Philadelphia I met a man, named Benjamin Franklin. He dresses like this. And he settles for his own hair – or what's left of it. The first time I spoke to him, I noticed that he looked despised at my clothing. And after having met with him a few more times I began to understand why…"

"Why then Thomas?" Charlotte whispered

"Because it is what exists in a man's heart and his mind that counts – and not what he decorates his body with. It is a new type of man, who is being birthed in these so-called colonies, Charlotte. Maybe a new race on earth – republicans. And all of that finery and stuff like artificial, birth or privilege allows a person to overcome. They are a disgrace to the people whom the future belongs to."

Charlotte did hear, what he said, but she didn't understand him. And by the way she never listened to Thomas with her mind. She had no need of that. All what Thomas said, was true enough for her, she didn't need to understand it with her brain. Her heart received it without any petty criticism from her usual bright mind.

"What were you doing in Philadelphia, Thomas?" She asked.

But he just laughed and said: "I will tell you some other time…where is Mary?"

Charlottes arm raised in the air as if it were on a puppet, and being pulled up and down with string work – "In there," she said and pointed.

Her voice was so quiet that Thomas didn't even comprehended it, but just saw her arms movement. – "Thank you my sweet girl," he said and stroke her cheek then he opened the door and disappeared into the house. I will not cry! Charlotte thought enraged. I will not! But she did it anyway. And she barely got to wipe away the tears with the back of her hand before Thomas once again came out with Mary under his arm and Millard Whitney came shuffling in the wake of a flabby pale pink poodle.

"Come with us," Thomas said – "were going out for a ride. Millard will be your date…" And Thomas bent down towards her ear and whispered: - "Were going over DeVoors millpond. It'll be fun huh, Charlotte?" "– NO!" Charlotte screamed and stomped with her foot – "I will not drive over the kissing bridge with that fat idiot even if he were the last boy on god's green earth!" She turned embattled towards Millard and hissed: - "and if you ever try to kiss me again then…then I'll rip both of your eyes out of your head!"

She then turned on her heel and fled into the house with a wild sob.

Thomas looked stunned at Mary and said: - "what on earth has gotten into her?" Mary turned up her nose, so that the late afternoon sunshine sparkled in the blond hair which she had inherited from her Dutch parents:

"Don't you know?" She asked

"No," Thomas answered

"Then I will be the last to tell you, my little sister is well on her way to be too pretty, even though she has her ugly brown hair and those eyes…"

Thomas watched Mary solemnly and said. "Yes, Charlotte is pretty…" but then the shadow of a smile formed on his lips: - "there is a little difference between you two…"

"What is that then?" Mary asked.

"She is pretty. But you…Are beautiful."

Mary thanked him with a small curtsy for the compliment:

"Thank you so much noble gentleman!" She said laughing.

She then took his arm, and together they went down the stairs, while the poor Millard stood still looking devastated.

For a short moment he considered going back into the house to find Charlotte. But then he remembered the looks in her face when she had threatened to pull his eyes out of his head. He clasped the tricorn hat down on his fluffy white wig, and disappeared then down the stairs, and down along the road.

Inside the house Charlotte lay on her bed and wept. But it didn't last for long, for Charlotte wasn't one of those who indulged in their emotional outbursts for very long periods of time. Ten minutes after Thomas and Mary had disappeared; Charlotte got up from her bed, and washed her face in cold water and went back downstairs. She went into her father's study, which was forbidden. But in her current position she had to do something extraordinary. She sat and stared at a shriveled Indian head, which one of her father's sailors had brought with him home from Brazil.

She thought bitterly: I wish I could die, and then write in my last will that they should treat my head like that and then send it as a wedding present to Thomas and Mary!

She felt a morbid pleasure in picturing the expression on their faces, when they would open the gift and find her head.

But the sight was so irresistible, that she couldn't help herself, laughing at it. Afterwards she felt a little more comfortable and started to wander around in the house and admire the various treasures her father had collected through the past 30 years, he had had his import business. There was the colored substance from Java, which was called Batik, the peculiar carved, small Chinese characters, the Japanese screen with painted dragons and peacocks. And the cane chair from Jamaica. Charlotte scrutinized them all, but they didn't impress her much anyways. What she liked the most, was the flimsy cups, saucers and small porcelain plates, which were adorned with flowers, hunting scenes and racing scenes, and so fragile that her mother hung them up on the wall as décor and would never use them. In all ordinary Charlotte and her family ate of tin plates – that for the most part were made in the large smithy, which belonged to Daniel Page, Thomas's father. Daniel was a true artist, when it came to tin and silversmiths. And Charlotte had a clear feeling that what the Page's would make, were the most beautiful, but she would become an old lady and grandmother to many, many grandchildren before she would realize how wonderful they were. Now she touched them lovingly and tender, but they only made her feel like crying once more. And she quickly put them back, when she suddenly heard her father's steps echo through the house.

"Victoria!" James roared. – "Victoria, my darling – where in heavens name have you gone to?"

His tone made Charlotte worry. He sounded like a man who had been mortally violated. She quickly ran out of his study, passed by the closed door to the drawing room, which her mother always kept locked, so that no one might disrupt the white sand patterns on the floor. Only the very highly respected guests ever got to see this room.

"Yes father?" She said. "Your mother," James growled. –"Where is your mother?" "She has gone to visit aunt Heide. Can't I help you father? You look ill…"

"I am my child, now go along and make your old father a toddy."

Charlotte stayed for a moment yet and watched her father as he stopped tobacco in one of his long-stemmed clay pipes, oblivious to the fact that most of the tobacco fell to the floor. Then he began to fumble with his lighter – a small flintlock pistol without a barrel but with small brow lint underneath the flint. The sparks fell around the flammable cotton and he then lifted one of the glowing tufts up into his pipe head. And then he chewed noisily on the mouth piece.

"Go on girl!" He roared. – "I need a hot toddy!"

Charlotte went straight to the kitchen where the fire always burned merrily. That anyone wanted a hot toddy in the middle of august was beyond her. But she took the long, well-scrubbed fire poker into the flames, she then took a tin mug and filled two-thirds of it with strong beer, then afterwards she poured sugar in it until it tasted fairly sweet enough, and then filled the entire mug with rum. And finally she opened to the oven and took the fire poker out; but it wasn't completely hot yet so she had to wait a bit longer. When it had become glowing red she took it once more and stirred it around in the mug until it began to boil. She tasted it and made a face. Something terrible must have happened to her father since he wanted this potion in the middle of summer!

She carried the mug with her into the fathers study, stayed still and watched as her father downed the entire scalding beverage in a couple of gulps. The sweat burst out on his red face, he narrowed his eyes and then looked at her;

"Where is your sister?" He growled?

Charlotte hesitated for a bit yet and stared at her father. But when she remembered that Thomas and Mary were officially engaged to each other she agreed with herself that it wouldn't do any harm if she told the truth.

"Out riding with Thomas," She answered.

"God dammit!" James exploded. – "But I only have myself to thank for that. I have always known that cockerel was a turncoat. But Daniel himself! Now that is a size too strong for me. Damn myself that I had ever imagined…"

"What father?" Charlotte said curiously.

"That is none of your business young lady. But when the lovely couple returns, you can tell them to come in here at once!"

"Yes, father," Charlotte said obediently and in her heart a flighty hope awakened: - if Thomas had done something her father didn't approve of, it would immediately be over and done with, with that engagement, this was no sensible party; the families Bayley and Page was somewhat roughly equal, depending on wealth; James Bayley didn't need to worry too much about the economic position planning her future on a long sight. As light-footed as Mary was it would not be long before she again had found a new boyfriend, and once she was married and had left home…-

Charlotte became all warm by the thought. Then she glanced to her father and thought: Father is so harsh; but he's a righteous man. Maybe I am the only one who truly knows him; not even mother understands him as well as I do; he believes so steadfast on certain things, and he is harder to himself than to any other human being. He just can't stop being righteous – even though it hurts. I believe he truly is a kind man but is ashamed of it and sees it as a weakness. If he just could learn to be a little more overbearing – the way he probably wanted himself to be.

She went out to keep watch at the front door and she didn't get to wait for very long. Tim O'Malley their Irish servant boy was already beginning to light up the lantern outside the house. And not even an engaged couple dared to stay outside after darkness had emerged when they didn't have a chaperone with them. There was still enough daylight left that she could see the small wagon before it pulled up in front of the gate. When Charlotte saw the gallantry with which Thomas helped Mary down from the wagon she had a feeling of being torn apart from the inside by fish hooks, thorny vines and sharp knives. They reached the porch. Thomas was about to kiss Mary goodnight. Charlotte had to put an end to that: -"Father wants to speak with you," it burst out of her. – "With the both of you – in the study – at once!" 

Thomas frowned. But then his young face turned smooth again and he said: -"Thank you Charlotte." Charlotte opened the door for them, when they had entered she followed them close behind. On that manner she had the opportunity to sneak with them inside to the father. As soon as she had reached inside the doors, she stopped and stayed in the deep shadow by the wall. James Bayley sat with only one candle lit so that the most part of the study laid cast in complete darkness. By his one elbow there stood a bottle of Arrak, which already had been emptied of two thirds of the content, Charlotte shuddered, she knew that Arrak always made her father be in a terrible mood. The beverage had been brewed on rice and syrup and was almost as bad as the brandy the slaves and the day laborers drank. As every other aristocrat James desired a deep contempt for the horrendous brandy as the lower social classes liked to call Off-With-Your-Clothes-And- Walk- Around- Completely-Naked. What the strong beverage also from time to time made them do – even in the coldest winter, but the Arrak was just as bad. That was the one her father always stiffened himself off with, when trouble erupted.

"Young man," He said gruffly, "Are you too a traitor towards the king and his cause?"

Thomas stared at him. "What do you mean sir?" He calmly asked

"You know damn well what I mean. Here this morning I received the terrible information that your father - a previously decent and intelligent man whom I have always been proud to call my friend…"

"Thank you for your kind words sir," Thomas said

"Do not interrupt me! As I was saying: Here this morning I was informed that your father is going to be a delegate by the so-called continental congress, which is to have a meeting in Philadelphia next month. Is that true?"

Thomas smiled: "It is, sir," He said. – "And I am proud to tell you."

James Bayley got up from his chair, and his large body almost filled the entire room. He was considerably heavier than Thomas and several inches higher:

"Proud!" He said with a husky whisper. – So this is supposed to mean that you share your father's views?

"I am going with him as his deputy," Thomas said

"Then there is nothing more to say about this," James said cumbersome. – "Mary give this young man back his ring."

"But, father!" Mary whined.

"Do as I say," James growled

Charlotte watched her sister. And she thought. - If it were me, I would say no. I would defy father, even if he would beat me to death with his cane. I would rather die than give up Thomas. But you're not like me – are you Mary-?

And then Charlotte smiled, as Mary took of the golden ring and with a shaking hand handed it to Thomas.

Thomas kept it in his open palm for a while before he slowly turned his hand and let the ring drop to the floor:

"I will not receive it," he calmly said – "it has been disgraced – by parochialism and cowardice, so far as I can see…Good evening Miss Bayley."

Then he bowed and went out through the door. Charlotte ran after him: - "Tom!" She called. He turned around: - "Yes Charlotte"? He said

"I'm…I'm on your side!" She said breathlessly. – "If you mean, that it's true about the congress, then it is true! I know so!" Thomas looked down upon her and smiled. – "Thank you for your kind words, little Charlotte," he said.

"Don't call me little Charlotte!" She angrily said. – "I am a grown woman, and I know what I want!" Thomas laughed, even though his heart was heavy: - "Grown? You," he laughingly said. – "Now that is the worst I have yet heard!"

And then Charlotte took a desperate act: She raised herself on her tiptoes and swung her arms around his neck. And then she kissed him fiercely and hard. Long after she had released him and had fled up the stairs to her room, Thomas stayed unmovable. In shock: - he was a handsome man. He had kissed and had been kissed by many girls. But never with a passion like this, never in his whole life, that much was for sure. I'll be damned! He thought. That, she definitely knows something about!

He put his hat on his head and marched out the door like a soldier. Beyond the Hudson-river mighty banks of clouds had formed; purple and dark they wiped out the stars. When he loosened his horse's timber from the iron ring of the gate a lightning flung across the sky. In Thomas's ears it sounded like canons. When he climbed up to the coachman's trestle, he shuddered. There was something prophetic in the heavy sound.

2: Chapter II

 

Chapter II

 

Charlotte lay flat on her stomach supporting her head with her hands. It was easy enough for her to lie in such position, because the fishbone stiffer in her skirts didn't went all the way around, but was only protruding from her hips. When you saw her from the front, they got the lower half of her to seem very wide, but viewed from her side she was flat, where there was nothing but her own touchable thinness beneath her skirts.

She was in the process of reading a printed matter, which Thomas had brought with him from Philadelphia to her. The light that fell in through the diamond-shaped, stained glass in the Dutch window was not very good, but Charlotte had gotten used to read by even worse lighting. The book she was reading was a figuratively constructed and poorly printed brochure called: The American answer to British Injustice. The authors name hadn't been specified; in august of 1774 it would have been too dangerous. Numerous men had already been captured and imprisoned for less. Like most other political treatises that flooded the colonies at the time, this too was very popular. Thomas had said that there had been sold almost 50.000 copies.

Charlotte had already read it halfway through, and she came to realize why people liked it so much, It was so easy to read. Even a child would understand it and the words written in it were so simple and so clear and almost always wise: - why do we have to pay taxes when we don't have any voting rights inside the government who prints the taxes? So simple was it. England was so far away and was weighed down by age and old averse custom. And this was a new world. Here things started anew. Here in America people had the opportunity to start fresh. For the first time in human history, every man had a chance to rank himself into freedom…

 

Charlotte raised her eyes from the printed page and glanced towards the window. She had an excellent mind but it was influenced by her femininity and was therefore inclined to deal with things that were a good deal more obvious and urgent than liberty of man. She was happy that Thomas had brought her a gift from the largest town in the colonies. It was the first time he had ever brought her something. But at the same time he had brought two gifts with him to Mary and had entrusted them with Charlotte that she would deliver them to her sister, because he wasn't allowed to see her anymore. When Mary had opened her gifts, she had been overjoyed: Thomas had sent her three small fashion dolls of those from Paris; they were all three of them dressed in the latest wonderful creations; with those as models Mary would be able to create a great number of new fancy dresses. These fashion dolls were the only means to put the elegant ladies in a position to follow the dress suit's development in large European cities. And Thomas's other gift for Mary was even more extravagant; he had succeeded in obtain a box with no less than 500 pins. And Charlotte knew how much good pins costs.

 

Every single pin had to be made in hand and was therefor and expensive luxury – especially in the American colonies for which most of them were imported from abroad. Charlotte estimated loosely this package pins to have cost Thomas a dozen British pounds or more. But it was not so much the relationship between the prices of their gifts that mattered even though the little brochure probably only had cost Thomas a few shillings. It was because it caused Charlotte a severe headache to figure out if she should feel flattered, that Thomas saw her as an intelligent girl and not a dumb goose, who was enraptured by pins and dolls.

But when she thought about it she came to the conclusion that she didn't feel flattered. There wasn't a man in this world, who gave a damn about what transpired inside a young girl's head – as long as the outside was well-scented, soft and smooth, the men was more than satisfied. And Charlotte knew very well, that men tended to let them scare, of a gifted girl. They had a tendency to see her as an oddity. Charlotte cursed silently and threw the half –read leaflet straight across the room. Of course she shouldn't know about cursing or swearing, but she did it nonetheless. In the 1770s even the most virtuous lady on this earth could not fail to be aware of these matters, since she only needed to step over to the window for all day long to hear and feel the air stink of sulfur and thundering profanities. In the hard-drinking and hard living colonies, oaths and blasphemies had been developed into an ingenious art.

Suddenly Charlotte heard her father's voice:

"Why on earth are you throwing around with this book?"

Charlotte hadn't heard him come up the stairs. She had been too occupied with her reading. Without a word she watched him bend down to pick up the book. He reached to take his square steel-rimmed glasses from his pocket and placed them over the bridge of his nose.

"The American answer to British Injustice!" He roared. - "Who, pray tell, has given you this rubbish!?"

"I…I found it outside, Charlotte lied. – "It lay on the ground, just outside the house father…"

"Where some scoundrel probably has put there deliberately" James said. – "and with the express purpose that some of my household should find this garbage. I have often blamed you your fiery temper, young lady, but this time you did right when you threw them heap of lies away…"

"Are they all lies, father?" Charlotte asked. – "I…I don't like what that man is saying, it all seems so terrifying to me…"

James Bayley heavily sat down in the foot of the bed: -"All the most exaggerated lies are, Charlotte, He said mildly. – "Because they all hold a grain of truth in them. Our government has its faults, but that's all we can call them. It is an error term – not villainy. The actual rascality is to find at the counterparty". "How is that, father?"

"All this trouble began in Boston, where as you know I too have offices. There lives a man by the name of John Hancock. The name is good enough and he comes from one of the best families. But that hasn't stopped him from becoming a common smuggler. The trouble began when he tried to stop the custom officials from getting their rightful tariffs on the wine he imported from Madeira…"

He slowly went through the whole story: of how the disturbances had erupted from the confiscation of Hancock's ship called Liberty, how the custom officials had to flee from Boston, and how the occupation had struck the city as an impact from the obvious result of these blatant and defiant violations of government regulations. Charlotte listened astounded to his story. She had never earlier felt so close to her father as now. For the first time in her young life she experienced that he took the trouble of talking to her as an equal, an adult human being. And she felt a wave of tenderness for this stout but awkward man. The father continued:

"I admit that the rebels may be right about the laws being unwise an even indecent, but until these laws changes, a good subject cannot take another course than the way i obedience. I have written to my representatives in London, asking them to send a letter to the parliament of their resignation, but until this request can be fulfilled on legal terms I have intended to do my duty for the Crown…"

"But father what if we had our own representatives in the parliament…?"

"We will have one day, James Bayley said. – "If only we show patience, but that isn't at all what those fools wants. They demand independence! Liberty as they call it. Liberty to get eaten by France or Spain. Where would we be today if not His Majesties Navy had been there to defend us?"

"But father, Charlotte interjected. – "The soldiers in Boston were so cruel. They…they disgraced the women…and they shot the residents…"

"…After having been provoked the crudest, yes. The wretched little loafer Sam Adams – whom I know so well by the way - he used a motley mix of rebellious bandits to create martyrs for his lousy cause! Tell me young lady, have you any idea about who those martyrs was? Drunken sailors from the docks, idlers, vagabonds, day laborers – Negroes even! They threw rocks against our majesties soldiers. Them...and then the story about how they threw tea into the harbor: The East India Company had mighty surplus stocks of tea; they actually offered them at prices that were lower than those Hancock and the other smugglers could sell their goods for! Hancock has never admitted having had mountains of tea smuggled in from Holland to his own storehouses – and that he would put a fortune on it if the prices were dumped! There you have the reason to his noble and ardent love of country. I can assure you that these pirates and vandals has numerous of sins like that on their conscience my girl!"

After her father had left Charlotte began to feel very unsure. James Bayley hadn't lied. That much was for sure. But on the other side, so hadn't Thomas. And Thomas was all intoxicated of the grand idea of freedom; He glowed from the sacred fire of Liberty.

But she had to know. Charlotte was only 15 years of age and didn't fully understand that the entire law never lies on the one side of disagreement by two opponents and that people has a tendency to brand their opponents as scoundrels with differences of opinion as an expression of the virulent anti-villainy – especially when one and the same difference of opinion strikes their wallet! Therefore she did the only thing possible for her under these circumstances – she sought out Thomas. It didn't cause her any trouble, because her whole family still saw her as a child and didn't watch her comings and goings in the same way as they did Mary.

One hour later she was out riding with Thomas through the woods north of the town. He told her cheerily about Philadelphia which was the biggest city in America:

"They paint there storefronts in the most glaring colors" he laughingly said: - "red, blue, green and yellow. And the inn signs too! I assure you, you have never seen these kinds of colors before Charlotte. And it's the same with their clothing. You shall definitely not believe in those folktales that the Quakers wear inconspicuous clothing. They dress more beautifully than anyone else – or grander perhaps. They literally pointed their fingers at us and the delegate from New Jersey, because we didn't wear a wig!" "What were you even doing up there Thomas?" Charlotte asked.

"Went to Fish House Club and drank Fish House Punch. The next morning I had to walk around searching for my own head, and I found it lying over in a corner where the inn keeper's cat played ball with it…"

"No, be serious Thomas!"

"It is the pure truth…"

"You're horrible Thomas! But tell me: Were the girls up there beautiful?"

"Wonderful I tell you! I fell in love no more than sixteen times."

"Even more beautiful than Mary?" Charlotte whispered.

Thomas looked at her. His blue eyes serious when he calmly said:

"There is no one more beautiful than Mary. No one in the entire world…"

Charlotte watched long and scrutinizing at him. She couldn't express her feelings. Not in words at least – not in the words which she knew. But Thomas noticed her expression and quickly started talking again: -"I didn't get to see to see the congress," he said.

"Father took care of all that. And then I just watched the time go by. I met by the way a man from Virginia – someone named Washington. I've never known a man more excited about dancing than he. And he danced very well. The girls were delighted to dance with him despite him being a big ugly fellow with a face scarred from the pox. He danced a night for a whole hour with a craftsman's daughter. But he was delighted and in reality he was the most pronounced nobleman I have ever met. He is also a delegate. Father could almost swear that he was one of the Kings men so eager was he when he tried to stop others from doing something serious against England. And the truth is probably this that colonel Washington is more afraid that the common man should beat himself to death than become a British soldier…Have you heard by the way that they call them Lobster bags because of their red uniforms?"

Charlotte didn't answer his question, but asked herself: - "How can it be that you speak so much of him?" Thomas looked at her and there was an uncertain gleam shimmering in his eyes when he said: - "Perhaps because he has made a greater impression on me than no other man I have met. Even greater than Patrick Henry, who can form his words into music, but Henry did say one important thing nonetheless: I am not Virginian he said to them, I am an American. One of the first Americans…"

"And you're proud of that, aren't you?" Charlotte said. – "But father is equally proud of being one of the King's subjects."

"Yes, I know," Thomas said. – "You're father is an excellent man Charlotte. A little stiff perhaps but a man of honor nonetheless. Just sad that he is on the wrong side…"

"But is he that Tom? He says that you're patriots is a pile of thieves and smugglers. He said they were significantly less interested in…Well; America than they were in their possessions. He even said that the people who were killed during The Boston Massacre were nothing more than, dregs runaway day laborers, drunkards and Negro slaves…-"

Thomas's eyes shot lightning beneath his dark eyebrows. He rose up in his stirrups and pointed with his whip: - "Do you see that man?"

Charlotte glanced to the direction which he pointed to. A Negro was in the process of chopping wood. It was a tall man with muscles that tightened and relaxed like ebony as he worked. His axe rose in a smooth arc, then whined through the air and ate through the wood that separated into two pieces. And he sang at the same time. His voice rolled underneath the trees and it was deep and slow and sad.

"Dregs" Thomas said, and his voice sounded so tight in his throat, that his words exploded like musket bullets – "They are the people, Charlotte. Never forget that. Our day laborers are people who had to sell themselves for years, when finally to reach freedom. Drunkards – yes quite. But show me a man who doesn't occasionally feels the need for a drink – but if you can, you will only show me a man, who is not at all a man! Slaves like the man over there – but who disgraces slavery the most: the victims or the people whose hearts are hardened by selfishness that they sell and buy other people like cattle without feeling any shame?" Charlotte watched him and felt more uncertain than ever. What her father had said was logic and irrefutable. But what Thomas said, came of warm feelings. There was in truth no choice. Emotions were always better than logic – they were purer, nobler and more truthfully. She hadn't considered it possible that she could love Thomas even more than she already did – but now it spread like enormous waves out from a place near her heart and it spilled all the way out to her fingertips and toes. She couldn't breathe. Her whole body ached. She already wanted to cry, but she couldn't let Thomas see her tears…and yet it was a sound that swelled in her ears like a song.

"Slaves! Thomas continued but more steady: - "I wonder if we will ever rise a monument for one of them – for a slave, or the son of a slave…"

"But, why Tom?"

"Because the first man who fell at Boston Commons was a mulatto. The first blood that watered the Tree of Liberty was pumped out of the exploded heart of a man whom we had denied any kind of liberty and whom we willingly had given a bullet. I believe that God allowed it to happen so that we might examine our hearts to become humble and love thy neighbor…"

He was deeply emotional now. Charlotte could easily tell. Suddenly he spurred his horse and dismounted right next to the wood-cutter. The large man was about to load the wood unto a cart. Without a word Thomas bent down and helped him with the work. The Negro starred at him:

"But Master, he said cumbersome. – "I really don't need help, and you will ruin Your fine clothing."

Thomas smiled: "To hell with my clothes, he said. – "And you need a hand. All people do…all people who are brothers."

The large Negro stepped closer and eagerly examined Thomas

"Master, he said. – "Are you well?"

Thomas laughed. To Charlotte the sound of his laughter was like sunshine that danced through the trees

"Of course I am!" Thomas said. – "I have never felt better in my entire life. And by the way it is not exactly you whom I'm doing it for. I'm doing it for a man whom I owe so much to, one named Attucks – a man from Boston, Crispus Attucks can you remember that name?"

"Yes Master, the tall Negro replied. – "I will remember that name."

Charlotte let herself slide down from her horse. She went over to stand beside Thomas and started brushing dirt and bark bits of his clothing. Her voice half choked when she said:

"Thomas, I'm going to kiss you now. I'm sorry but I just can't help it…"

When they rode on through the forest, Charlotte was crying silently. Thomas's face was calm and saddened:

"Don't cry Charlotte," he said.

"I can't help it. It's the second time I just shamelessly throw myself at you. I wish that I didn't love you so much. But I do, and I can't stop that either – just as you can't stop being who you are – so tall and wonderful and good…"

"I…I care so much for you Charlotte, Thomas said fumbling. – "Maybe one day I'll get over Mary…"

"Oh you fool! Charlotte bitterly said. – "What any good comes out of loving a girl who broke her engagement because she was told to? What is the point in that Thomas?"

Thomas sent her a saddening smile: - "And what any good comes out of loving a man whose heart lies elsewhere, Charlotte? Love is a strange thing. You can't just blow it out like a candle and then light it up by your command. It burns as it pleases whatever you like it or not. But I will tell you something Charlotte, because I trust you: I have met Mary several times since that faithful day; she swears that she loves me and she is waiting for your father to let it go…"

• ”But he will never let it go, Thomas, Charlotte said. – "if you believe that, then you don't know him at all and I don't believe you truly know Mary either – but that may as well be. I…I hope you will be very…Happy."

And then she lowered her head and cried. And Thomas let her cry for there was nothing else he could do.

3: Chapter III

Chapter III

Charlotte didn't meet Thomas again before the next Sunday. She sat very alone on the family's church bench in Trinity Church. But she wasn't paying attention to the service. There were at least a dozen other places where she'd rather be in this moment than the church. It was a sultry hot September morning, but it was one of those things that came with being a Bayley: to fulfill your duties.

In all ordinary the family got together here. But her father was beset by one of his bouts of gout, and her mother had stayed home to nurse him. As typical as Mary now was she knew how to use the situation to her advantage: she had left home with Charlotte but along the way they had met Susie Lawrence, and Mary had run off with her after first making Charlotte swear not to tell their parents.

Charlotte glanced sideways to the Page's church bench; it had been empty when she arrived, but now Daniel Page was occupying it, she sighed lightly. She had hoped that Thomas had come too.

The priest thundered and rumbled on with his sermon, but Charlotte hardly listened to a word of it. She just wondered about what the priests would do once they had run out of threats of hellfire and forfeiture…But she supposed it wasn't likely to happen, everything suggests they have endless stocks of that product. She looked quite blatantly over at Mr. Page. Thomas looked so much like his father, except that Daniel in a way was more handsome than his son. His silver white hair suited him and it formed an excellent contrast to his copper-colored skin which Thomas had inherited from him. He was more widely build than Thomas and a bit smaller, though he sat motionless on the church bench you got a powerful impression of his strength. Thomas is more flexible, Charlotte thought. But he too will probably become more and more handsome as the years pass just like the old Mr. Page. And he will get the same face with the wrinkles caused by the big smile…That is probably what's wrong with my own father; the older he gets the more grim he looks…And that is a shame for he isn't so bad in real life.

The sermon had finally come to an end and the number of saved people turned out to be so small that Charlotte a moment wondered why God actually bothered taking the trouble with them. She suddenly saw Mr. Page heading towards her: - "This was an unexpected delight, Miss Charlotte, he said. – "may I have the honor of escorting you home? It isn't quite often that an old haggard like me gets the opportunity to chat with a pretty young lady without her date, who also happens to be my son comes in between".

Charlotte smiled. Daniel Page was one of the most lovable people she knew. She said: - "I have no date Mr. Page. And as far as Thomas is concerned I am afraid that he is quite uninterested."

"…What you definitely not are, little Charlotte – Are you? Dan Page said friendly. – "But Thomas is a fool. A man who works with metals, should be capable of knowing the difference between sterling-silver and tin. Your sister is pretty enough. But you, you are what is better. You are first class. The metal solid and clean – all the way through, nothing less than pure gold…"

"Thank you, Mr. Page" Charlotte answered.

"Come on," Daniel Page said and took her arm.

"Mr. Page," Charlotte mumbled. – "I…I think you'd better not. My father…"

"Oh yes that's right," Daniel laughed. – "I had for a moment forgot how solemn James are when it comes to politics. But come with me to the store – I have something for you there."

Charlotte pondered about it for a second. If anyone saw her walk down the street with Mr. Page and then told her father, she would get in deep trouble. But at the same time there was a chance for her to see Thomas. And besides what could her father do to her other than yelling at her?

"I would love to," She said and Daniel Page once again took her arm. Page's Tin foundry & Silversmiths was in Pine Street near Nassau. It was small, but nonetheless it was the biggest of its fashion in all of New York. Most foundries could be handled by a single man or one or two of his sons, but Page had no less than a dozen men employed.

Daniel Page unlocked the door to the store. The forge and the foundry was right behind the store, but since it was Sunday the ovens was shut down and cold, and the smoke and smell Charlotte always thought was so exiting was completely gone today. When they entered the store, there was a man inside. He rose when they closed the door behind them. Charlotte knew why Daniel Page always had a guard inside the store; his tin and silvery was very expensive and one couldn't count on that the thieves would stay away on a holiday.

"Here you are little Miss Charlotte; Dan Page said and took a syrup jar, forged in heavy silver.

Charlotte took the jar from his hands, but she didn't even look at it, she kept her eyes firmly on the guard. She didn't like the way he watched her. There was something in his face that reminded her of…Yes of rage and hatred! And immediately she recognized him. His name was Jason Goodby and he had previously been employed with her father. And James Bayley had him jailed because he hadn't paid off his debt.

It had only been about a small amount of money – that much Charlotte could remember. She had begged her father to bear with the poor Jason but James Bayley wasn't a man who forgave people so easily for their sins. His sense for justice was never interrupted by pity.

Dan Page followed her gaze and calmly said: "– Jason, that story of your imprisoning is over now understood? You do well as I say and forget about it…It belongs in the past".

"- All right Mr. Page, Jason said. – "you're a good man, no one will mistake that, but when I see his little girl, in sheer silk and lace it reminds me of how I lost my poor Fanny – by starvation little miss! While I myself sat locked up and not being able to provide for her…"

"Jason!" Mr. Page interrupted.

"No Mr. Paige it's fine" Charlotte said. – "Let him say what he has to say".

She walked towards Jason. When she had reached him she saw him shaking all over his body. –"Mr. Goodby, she said. – "I am so sorry for what my father did to you. I did my best to talk him out of it but I didn't succeed. And it is unfair of you to blame me for something I could do nothing about…"

"Charlotte!"

It was Thomas's voice

"Charlotte! Thank god, I had almost given up to…"

"What is the matter with you boy?" Dan Page asked.

"There has been some disturbances father" Thomas said. – "It is over now as far as I know of, but most of the city is in complete uproar. You do remember that you stamped some of the more riotous elements between our supporters as unfortunate. Well now they have decided the color. They have attacked houses which belong to people loyal to the crown. Here this morning they have demonstrated their courage by insulting two or three Tory girls on Open Street…"

"Fantastic!" Jason Goodby said.

"Now hold on there for a minute my boy!" Daniel Page said angrily. – "Our cause is just, and an incident of that kind disgraces it deeply… Thomas you'd better take Charlotte home."

"I also intend to, Thomas said. – "We meet at home father. We'd better gather the others for the counsel…"

"Very well, Daniel Page replied.

They had already turned into William Street before Charlotte remembered her silver jar. But now it was too late. It was all too late to get most of the daily things done.

"Tell your father that he shouldn't be driving around in the big carriage. Every sign of wealth has turned into an attack signal for the pack. And above all he mustn't take you or Mary with him, when he's going out…" Thomas said warningly.

"I'll tell him," Charlotte said.

But James Bayley only grunted despicably. To further emphasize his scorn he drove out with both of them the very same afternoon they had only managed to pass three blocks before the first rock was thrown through the carriages window and sent a rain of shards down upon them, in the same second the coachman stopped the four horses, but that was a horrible mistake for in the next moment they were surrounded. Charlotte recognized the leader of the gang. It was Jason Goodby. "DAMN YOU LOYALISTS!" Jason roared. – "DAMN YOU TORY! YOU'RE GONNA GET WHAT YOU DESERVE!"

Another rock came flying in through the window and hit James Bayley in his face, and the blood poured out.

"Aren't he a lovely one!" one of the others grinned

"Such a beautiful red coat. But listen, fellas, I wonder if it hasn't gone a bit out of fashion. What do you think about giving him a new – a black one for example – tar black with beautiful feathers"

A half a dozen hands tore at the door…But then suddenly they all stormed away from the carriage, while using their hands to protect their heads for Thomas Page stood up in his stirrups and threw around left to right with his whip.

"Tom" Jason moaned. – "I thought you were on our side!

"I am, Thomas said harshly. – "Until you began to start a war against old men and women. Save your strength boys until you meet the lobsters. Then you may have your opportunity to show a man's courage, but when you act like a horde of barking dogs you disgrace a good cause in all sympathetic human's eyes…"

They snuck away from the vehicle. Thomas rode side by side the Bayley's until they reached back to the house. Then he stepped down from his horse and helped Mary and Charlotte out but James Bayley refused to lean on his hand –"I thank you for your help young man, he said. – "but unless you decide to change your point of views there can be no friendship between us."

Thomas just looked at him – "My opinions are my own, sir," he said with a low voice. – "But yours may more likely need a revision, since you not only put your own life in danger but also Mary's…"

"Why you damned whelp, James snarled. – "Your conspiracy leads nowhere else than straight to the gallows, where you can kick around beside your dear father…"

"Father! Charlotte gasped.

"Goodbye sir; ladies, Thomas mumbled. – "Oh and Mr. Bayley; you might want to remember that the patriots can build equally as tall gallows as the kings men. But let that subside for now…if you had had even the slightest of respect for the common man, you wouldn't have jailed poor Jason and in turn also receiving his hatred for you – that kind of mistakes can be fateful…"

He then bowed deeply and placed his tricorn on his dark head with an almost cheery demeanor; he then sat up and disappeared in a light gallop down through William Street.

When Charlotte watched him ride away she had to blink fast as to not let the tears fall from her eyes. There was one thing that Thomas had said that kept repeating itself over and over in her head…" since you not only put your own life in danger but also Mary's…" not: both your daughters, neither Mary nor Charlotte. Only Mary's! And deep in her heart she wailed: he doesn't give a damn about if I live or die! I hate him. I hate…But still, while she was thinking it she knew it not to be true.

She had to put a shawl around her shoulders every time she went out to the garden. The air had become sharp. Soon winter would arrive, but Charlotte whom always used to love the pure white snow, did not look forward to the winter with joy in her heart. She had always loved the sleigh rides behind the fast flying horses and the ice skating on the lakes in the forest district north of the city. But she was almost 16 years old now and these joys now seemed very childish. She didn't want to think about that New Yorkers of all ages gave themselves cheerfully to these winter diversions.

She sat very still on the bench beside the drop box and pondered with a painful sincerity that a broken heart despite all wasn't a decease you died of. That was almost the worst of it. It all just kept going and going like a sedated dull pain that coursed through her body, except that her heart thought to hurt a little bit more than the rest of her tortured body. She kept sitting in the same position for a long time and lulled herself into the comforting veil of self-pity. In the month of December she would turn 16 years old and was therefore old enough to get engaged, but what good would that do when then only man in the world she cared for was in love with Mary? Why in the world would it matter then?

It had become seriously cold now. Charlotte made a movement as to rise and return to the house. But then she heard voices, one of them belonged to Mary. And Mary was crying.

"Oh Thomas," She wailed. – "No!” ”It is necessary my love," Thomas said gently. – "Our group has decided that I must be travel to Boston to get in contact with Adams and Hancock and the rest of the leaders there…"

"Oh those damned Sons of Liberty," Mary raged. – "I wish they were dead every single one of them."

"If they were, I too would be dead, Mary," Thomas said. – "For I am one of them myself."

"Oh how I would wish I didn't love you, Mary growled. – "I should have been wiser than to have let myself fall in love with a traitor. How horrible it is Thomas! It really is. I have nightmares at night. I dream that I always stand beside the gallows while a group of the Kings men leads you up to the scaffold to h-hang you! Can you not stop this madness dearest Thomas. All the best people, the nicest and most decent and respectable people stands beside the King! How can you deal with this pack that you spend your time with? Beggars, Patch Shoemakers, Copyists, servants, Vagabonds and Slaves! I can't even imagine how you can stand the smell of them!"

But Thomas replied harshly back:

"At least it's much better than to have to smell at those undeserving perfumes of the rich for that is a form of fornication."

"Thomas!"

"Yes I am sorry, but we do our best to create a world where the words such as beggars and slaves doesn't exist Mary. Where honorable workers aren't thrown in jail for debt. Where people only must obey the laws which they themselves has agreed upon and not at all a random kings whims! Of course we will be taxed in it, though more justly, because we have our own representatives who make sure that the taxes won't go out above all fair limits, and our goods must be shipped in our own vessels, without any sort of special permission and without anyone who hinders us in the path, I assure you Mary…"

"Let me tell you something Mr. Thomas Page! You are out of your mind and my father did the right thing when he made me return your ring!"

Several minutes went by before Thomas answered and when he did his voice was so low that Charlotte had to strain her ears to catch his words.

"Indeed, you mean that, Mary? He said. – "Well in that case you give me no other choice than to agree with you."

He turned around on his heel and started to walk. Charlotte held her breath. She didn't dare to move. She hoped that he wouldn't see her as she sat there overhearing their conversation, he went right in the direction where she was but he hadn't seen her yet. Then Marys voice called:

"Thomas!"

He stopped

"Come back here Thomas Page!"

Slowly Thomas turned around and went back to Mary. Charlotte exhaled slowly. She stood up and went one step on her tip-toes. Then she stopped. She couldn't help but looking back. She knew she shouldn't do what she had to do.

"Oh my love, Mary cried. – "I don't care for a single bit if you are out of your mind or not, I don't even care that you are a traitor. I love you. And that's the only thing that matters? Let is not fight any more about things that doesn't concern us…You just need to love me Thomas – that is the only thing I ask for…”

She opened her embrace and he wrapped his arms around her. Charlotte ran out of the garden as fast as she could she ripped up the backdoor to the house and almost fell over a stool in the hall. She couldn't see anything it was all a complete blur. First around an hour later it came to her mind that she at least had got one thing out of this experience: she knew where Thomas had to go.

4: Chapter IV

Chapter IV

But it wasn't Charlotte who got the relationships fixed in the way that all parties would be satisfied. That was Mary – with the support of the variegated unwashed horde of the pack who called themselves Sons of Liberty. Not because they in any way had intentions of supporting Mary's plans. The only thing they had in mind was to munch her face with whiskey stinking kisses, cut her hair off, and make her an object for other by passers if the opportunity ever came.

"Father, Mary said at the breakfast table. – "Why don't we all move up to Uncle Peter in Boston? We would be much safer up there. There we have the Kings soldiers to protect us…"

James Bayley looked at her over the edge of his square glasses: - "I have not yet stuck my tail between my legs when turmoil was under eruption, he said noisily. – "if these thieving scallywags want trouble, they can find me here!"

And that should have been the end to that case although it didn't. On Wednesday the family Bayley had been invited to dinner with the Lawrence family. The old Major Lawrence was equally a loyalist as the Bayley's.

Wednesday night James sat in his study and smoked on his long pipe while he constantly kept looking at the clock while cursing women's mysterious lack of capability to get themselves properly dressed at the right time. He should be used to it by now but he just wasn't. Since then he should have felt grateful of his wife and daughters lateness because it was likely that, which saved his life.

The Lawrence family lived in Green Street. When the Bayley's rounded the corner the first they heard was a sound of broken glass and a woman's scream. James's head went as red as a tomato's and he was just about to jump out of the carriage, when Charlotte and Mary held him back: - "No father!" Charlotte said. – "You've got nothing else but a pocket knife!"

"Get the carriage away from here!" Mary screamed. – "If they spot it, they'll attack us!" The coachman turned the heavy vehicle and made the horses gallop down through Green Street, but before they had gone too far James ordered the coachman to stop again: - "Take the girls home," He commanded. – "I must get to my friends." Charlotte was proud of her father. What other mistakes James Bayley had, a coward was not one of them. But in the same moment as he went out of the carriage, she too jumped down beside him. – "Charlotte!" He yelled. – "Get back in the carriage…" He never got to finish his sentence as the big vehicle jolted off while the two of them remained on the street. – "Damn you girl!" he exploded. – "What in the world…" – "Don't worry about it father, Charlotte laughingly said. – "But someone has to go with you, right?" James couldn't help but smile back at her. On the bottom of his heart he had a pile of kindness left for his young stubbornness daughter. – "You should have been a boy," he brummed. – "Come along then." They stayed close to the house walls until they nearly got there. The Sons of Liberty marched in and out of the blown doors to the Lawrence property loaded with silver, linen and household items and fine clothing. Some of them had even put on women's ornaments. One dead drunk little guy had even put on a pair of lace adorned women's undergarments and the legs of the long pants followed after his ankles. Others ran to and back from the stables and howled whole buckets full of dung and manure through the broken windows. They had pulled the Majors fine horse out in front of the house and six of them were already occupied in painting the animal. They painted the body complete red, the head light blue and its tail yellow. Charlotte couldn't keep in her laughter. – "don't look over there!" her father roared. But Charlotte saw all she could. They had undressed the fat old major Lawrence completely naked. They lead him out of the house and forced him to mount the colorful steed. Then they lead Mrs. Lawrence and Susie out. They had been a bit kinder to the women by letting them keep their corsets and underskirts on, but they had cut off all their hair, then they tied them firmly onto the horse's tail and the little dark guy in the women's underwear grabbed the reins and yelled. – "Forward, march!" and the whole procession sat down running through the street, followed by the majors own wagon that was loaded with stolen goods and the drunken pack that had put the majors own muskets and hunting weapons over their shoulders, while others followed behind the wagon with the majors entire stock of cattle.

"But this is horrible!" Charlotte gasped. – "What are we going to do father!"                       

"I will show you my lady!" he hissed and Charlotte came to realize that her father was getting ready to attack, like a lion on its prey. Her father who all days, despite his fiery tempers, had been a law-abiding citizen had nothing else in his pocket but his pocket knife. He was never a coward Charlotte knew that, but even a brave man only armed with a pocket knife could do little in a situation like this. James bored his heels into the ground, but Charlotte was faster than he, she threw herself right in front of him so he tripped and took her with him down in the fall. They both got their clothes completely soiled. – "Be damned the Evil…!" James roared. – "But father you are probably the bravest man on this earth and I love you, but I won't let you willingly commit suicide! They have muskets and we don't have anything else but your pocket knife." The thugs had turned around by the sound of their heavy fall and all the guns pointed already directly at them. When James starred right into the barrels he finally realized that there was some sense to his daughters' words. Thereafter the troublemakers laughed and lowered their weapons while one of them screamed: - "Is' just some ole' drunkard, who fights with his daughter, let's move on lads!" "I pray to the Evil One to boil them all in his tar cauldrons for all eternity! – "I will…" – "You are going home with me, Charlotte said. – "And then we will fetch some brandy and winter coats – The Lawrence's might need them…"

Later they found the major Lawrence tied to a tree in the woods north of the city; they first found him out on the evening. His wife and daughter were tied to a tree nearby. Charlotte was right they definitely needed the brandy and the warm coats. The major was all blue from the cold. When Charlotte and her father finally had brought them home, the major had already gotten the fever. Four days later he died – and Charlotte suspected that it was just as much because of his powerless rage and the horrible humiliation as it was because of the pneumonia.

Charlotte cried at the funeral. On the bottom of her heart she knew that Thomas would have never allowed what the troublemakers did to the Lawrence family. He would single-handedly have chased the plundering pack out of the streets. But it filled her with grief that he had chosen himself to team up with a pack of that caliber. But then she realized that Thomas hadn't joined them at all. But that those kinds of people in troubling periods of time had always wanted to pop out like rats from their hooks and loopholes just to disappear as quickly again at the sound of the first gunshot and only the true patriots and freedom lovers would stand back as the last. And that such a pure and exalted idea as liberty itself never could be tainted by those scallywags who took its name for granted.

There was only one good thing that came out of this entire ordeal: the day after the funeral Mary, Charlotte, Susie and their mothers found themselves on the diligence on the way to Boston. James Bayley watched them drove away. Thereafter he returned to his barricaded house, daubed and loaded his pistols.

Charlotte Bayley glanced towards Susie Lawrence, who sat and gazed admiringly up at the young Peyton Cranbrooke. And she thought: Susie is happy now while…while I myself am just sitting here by the window, waiting for Thomas to come by so I can get to see him. And it is no comfort that I am absolutely sure that he will come sooner or later, for whatever benefit does it to me sitting here waiting for him, when he anyway only comes to catch a glimpse of Mary? I am a little fool. Susie is absolutely right. Peyton is a nice lad. Lieutenant Peyton Cranbrooke of his royal majesty's navy. And why not? It's not his mistake. He only follows orders – quite actually like what Thomas does to his party…

I do wonder when the fights will actually begin. Thomas says himself it will come sooner or later. I just hope nothing happens to Thomas. It´s been so long since…let me see…we came up to uncle Peter in November, and now we're in April 1775…

She suddenly heard Mary laugh and turned her eyes towards her. That didn't take Mary such a long time! She though bitterly. Of course Cecil is handsome; but so is Thomas. I wonder if it is his pretty face that seems so enticing to Mary – or is it his title. Major Cecil Fitzgerald, viscount link letter, sounded excellent. And; Lady Mary, viscountess Link letter. They were exactly what would fit Mary. Charlotte shaked her head in order to clear her thoughts. I am being unreasonable and dishonest now, it would make any young girl ecstatic to have such a title and Mary can't help being who she is – no more than I can do anything about being who I am. Mary is vain, thoughtless and fickle – but she is never being mean intentionally – but I am, so often. I think she still cares for me – as much as she is capable of caring for another human being in this world. While I – god forgive me – while I am near of hating her right now. How terrible and awful the feeling of jealousy is! She watched Cecil get up with lazy beautiful movements, and stroll over to Uncle Peter, whom sat with her mother. He was a delightful sight in his scarlet red uniform. He was tall, slender and almost too graceful for a man. And he was so beautiful – so wonderfully beautiful. He didn't wore a wig right now, and his close cut blond hair lay in small curls around his high forehead. He reminded Charlotte of a painting of Apollo she had once seen…and if there ever were any difference between the two, then Cecil was the best looking one.

"Tell me something old chap," he said to Peter Bayley. – "This courtship is bloody exiting, ha? But I think I will have to remind you that the lady is still married – and as far as I hear, to your own brother." Peter Bayley went all blood red in his face. Also Charlotte's Uncle was a beautiful man. There were actually not a single man invited to Susie's engagement party April 6th on the year of 1775 who couldn't brag about his appearance that were separable above average. – "That'll be damned boy!" Peter said laughingly – "You are almost a mind reader! This is the first time I ever felt so uneasy being a bachelor. And if James wasn't exactly my brother then…"

"Ach Piet! Victoria smiled – "How you talk! An old, goede vroww like me – and even almost about to be a grandmother soon…"

"So softly, so softly Mrs. Bayley! Cecil said. – "Let us not hasten ourselves. I think you are missing a minor detail, don't you! Neither you're endearing Charlotte, nor is the beautiful Mary married yet – or even as much as engaged…"

"And whose mistake is that? Victoria said laughingly. – "I am ready to lull their babies to sleep, but a husband they must find themselves. So you better be careful Cecil…"

"But mother!" Mary said. Cecil strolled over to her and sat himself on the armrest of her chair: - "I don't think I will hasten myself with running off," he said tenderly. – "If there really was such a bliss in view put before me…" "Is there not?" Mary asked boldly. – "I am familiar with the danger my dear," Cecil shot back. – "With the danger and death…" He looked over at Charlotte: - "And you my sweet Charlotte?" he said teasingly. – "Have you not made a decision either? Which of us men have you intended to have the great honor?" "None of you." Charlotte answered dryly. – "I am an American and you are my country's enemies." "Charlotte Bayley!" Uncle peter growled. "Oh Mr. Bayley, don't yell at her," Cecil smiled. – "Have you heard what we call her? Miss Rebel. And we always whistle the Yankee Doodle whenever we see her. But I know you're secret sweet Charlotte. It is that lanky blue coated Yankee lad isn't it? The one who always glances longingly after Mary. I must say I can't admit I admire you're taste Miss Charlotte. But that'll do just fine – won't it Mary? You will probably gladly hand her that fellow." "With the greatest pleasure," Mary laughed. Then Charlotte got up and left the room. She thought of how saddened Tomas's face would've been right now. And it made her feel so sorry. It was her greatest wish that he should be happy not saddened. And she even had a weak but enchanting idea of how she could help him be happy. She thought of how lovely it would be making Thomas's tea and bring him a lump of glowing coal from the fireplace he could light his pipe with. She would brew rum toddy's for the cold winter nights and…but then her thoughts wouldn't venture any longer. She stood by the window out in the hallway and waited until he came riding by as usual – as he did every day in the hopes of seeing Mary. He could ride around even in Boston, anywhere he liked because there were far more patriots than redcoats and because it had turned out that the weak British forces only offered poor protection against beating by horse whips, broken bodywork windows and burnt down houses. The Tories didn't stop the patriots in their wild savage behavior and the British army could only step into action over too obvious attacks, like the one with the riots on the commons that since then had gone under the name of The Boston Massacre…

But he couldn't enter this house, James Bayley had informed his brother of the news about the raised engagement and had asked him to prohibit Thomas entrance to the house, if he had any intentions of following Mary to Boston. Peter Bayley shared his brother's views to politic questions and there was no doubt that he would do his best to accommodate the request. On the contrary, Charlotte was more uncertain of her mother. Victoria Bayley had always appreciated her future son-in-law. But she was Dutch both in birth and breeding and whatever her personal opinions ever was, it was as unthinkable to her as murder was, that she had to baulk by obeying her husband's express command. However, today Thomas was not alone. He was with a small dark man. Charlotte hurried out of the house: - "Thomas!" She yelled. Thomas turned himself half around in his saddle and a vague smile brightened in his eyes. He jumped off the horse, the other man doing the same. Charlotte already liked the stranger at first sight. His face was so solid chiseled and breathtaking. – "Paul," Thomas said. – "I would like you to meet this country's best female patriot – Miss Charlotte Bayley. Charlotte may I present Paul Revere to you." – "Bayley? Paul Revere said and frowned: - "But any Bayley around here is…" "Loyal to the king – Tories," Charlotte sighed. – "Both my Uncle and my father…everyone except me." Revere smiled. – "Now I know that we will win over the lobsters. By the sight of such a beautiful patriotic friend, it is likely they will all surrender at the very moment." Charlotte thanked him with a small courtesy. Then she looked at Thomas: - "Let me come with you Thomas," she said. – "But Charlotte, it is late now and your Uncle…" "He won't miss me the first couple of hours. They have company in there. Even mother and Mrs. Lawrence has been drinking so much Madeira that it won't even come to their mind to check my room until tomorrow morning…"

"But how with a horse?"

"Ride around to the back of the house and let Tim know to saddle up the mare to me. Then I will wait here…" she half turned and looked over at Revere. – "You are painter, aren't you Mr. Revere? Revere looked at her confused. – "That's most definitely one deed sin, that people yet have accused me of doing," he said. – "Where did you get that idea from?" "I have seen a painting, one you drew. Thomas showed it to me. It was called The Terrible Massacre of Boston. You are that Revere, aren't you?"

"Guilty as charged! But it was Sam Adams who encouraged me to do it, because I am an engraver – absolutely not an artist. If you looked a bit closer at the work you would quickly notice that it is poorly done…" At the very same moment, Thomas came around the corner with Charlotte's mare after him. Both men helped Charlotte up in the saddle. And as they went in progress, Thomas said: - "You know what Charlotte; if it hadn't been for Paul here I doubt I would've ever come to Boston…" – "Why is that?" Charlotte asked. – "I had heard about Paul through our organization. So I took some good drawings of silver and tin items and bronze door handles and knockers and other items with me when I left home. When the British sentries stopped me, I got them to take me to their officer. It was a man with a good taste and a whole lot of common sense. I said to him that I was to negotiate with my colleague Revere of the best casting method. And I certainly got to do that for the previously mentioned British Major wrote an order of six of my very best drawings, which Paul would have to make for him. They have already been shipped to his wife back in London!" Revere smiled. – "I forgot to mention before that besides of my engraving company, I tinker a bit in the arts of forging silver…"

"A bit!" Thomas snorted: - "Paul is the best silver smith in the colonies. Let us make our way to your store Paul so that Charlotte can see some of your works…"

"With the greatest pleasure" Paul Revere said. A little after, they sat in the little store, and Charlotte watched so admiringly at the jars, dishes, bowls, saltshakers, handles, hinges and the doorframes. They were all so simple and fine. And despite her young age, Charlotte could see that these non-ornament works were very, very beautiful. For the first time in her life, she got an idea about how rich this clean matter, shape and the lines could seem Paul Revere's sense for harmony and balance was like a poets. And she said to him. – "Then it wasn't at all the truth you told me Mr. Revere," she said. – "You are an artist. And a very great one in fact." Paul blinked at Thomas: - "I am also a rider." He said. – "That is exactly what he is," Thomas laughed. – "He was the courier, who brought the Suffolk resolutions to the continental congress. They simply contained a declaration of independence for the state of Massachusetts. I believe that it is that name that will make Paul famous: The courier of the Revolution…" – "You yourself aren't so bad either on horseback Thomas." Paul Revere said. – "Thank you very much for the compliment," Thomas said. – "You see Charlotte; we are a couple of six or seven who always stays alert. In the very moment, something happens we ride out in the country and sound the alarm. Then the so-called Minute Men…" – "Uh Thomas," Revere said. – "Do you think it's wise telling all this to this young lady whom after all…" – "…Is a daughter of a Tory." Charlotte finished his sentence. Thomas smiled tenderly at her and said: - "If Charlotte ever had revealed a single thing I've entrusted her, we would all be dangling from the gallows right now Paul." Revere looked curiously at Charlotte. – "Would you mind sharing to me why it is you look at our cause as you do Miss Bayley?" He asked. – "Because Thomas believes in it," Charlotte said. Revere smiled. – "My heartiest congratulations, Thomas," he said. – "I wish you will be blessed with at least a half a dozen tall American sons!" Thomas's face grew hot in embarrassment. – "We'd best be returning now," he said rather annoyingly. – "No," Charlotte said. – "Let us ride through the streets a little while longer. I don't like returning just yet, Thomas…" – "If you won't mind, I'd prefer staying here in the shop, I have to at least make the best of a bad job, if not even the stupid Brits will suspect me…" God bless you for your tact, Charlotte thought. – "Goodnight then Paul," Thomas said. – "You know where to find me…"

They rode slowly through the streets not saying a word to each other, Charlotte thought: I will not be the one to start out, I simply will not! They turned into a street near Charles River. Suddenly a door to a tavern was punched wide open and a bunch of men poured out on the streets. They were huge beasts, blonde and with fleshy flushed faces. They wore blue jackets and white pants; they were armed with bayonets but carried no firing arms. They stopped up abruptly and glanced over at Charlotte. Their small piggy eyes was bloodshot. Then they started laughing. One of them roared: - "A girl! And pretty too!"

"She doesn't have any meat on that body of hers. Too small and too skinny…"

"But she's still a girl. Come here!"

"Who are they Thomas?" Charlotte whispered. – "What on earth are they talking about?" – "They are hessian soldiers!" Thomas harshly said. – "I don't know what they are chatting about, but I certainly don't like it. Stay close to me" they slowly rode on. But the Germans jumped forward and blocked the street. They stood and glared laughingly at them. Thomas hands went for the satchels and hauled two pistols out. He tightened the cocks at the same time and the sound clicked warningly down through the street. – "RAUS!" he suddenly roared. – "Raus mit dich verdammter schwein!" The hessian soldiers gazed at his large rider pistols. Then they stepped aside and let Thomas and Charlotte slip through. – "Ride!" Thomas hissed. – "Ride like the devil was chasing you!" five blocks away they stopped the horses. – "But Thomas" charlotte laughingly said. – "What was it you said to them? What did those words mean?" - "Truth be told I have no idea myself" Thomas said with a big smile.- "It's something their officers say to them, I have heard them saying it many times during their exercises. Then I happened to remember it right now. Thank god it worked…" – "Thomas," Charlotte said seriously. – "Why did they stop us? What did they want?" – "Kill me," Thomas said straight out. – "And take you." – "My god!" Charlotte whispered. – "Amen. Make sure you always stay miles away from the Hessians, Charlotte. The redcoats have a quite decent reputation, as women are concerned and decent women can be safe enough when it comes to them. But the same doesn't apply to these Hessian bastards." - "You better take me home now, Thomas," Charlotte said. – "I have had more than enough excitement for one day." – "Me too, but in a way I am kind of glad those Hessians turned up over here…" Charlotte glared at him. –"What do you mean by that, Thomas?" – "They got so many of the Tories to make a decision and choose our party. There are many of the royalists who admits that the blockade of Boston was unjust and it hits their stores as well as it hits ours. The only difference between them and us is only that they believe that King George can change his way of thinking and that the conditions can be mended without turning to war and without the states getting its independence. However, when a regent unleashes foreign mercenaries on its own flesh and blood, people start losing their patience. They are no longer loyalists, and they become patriots. The Tory-classes have some of the best men and the best brains in America, so recruits from that edge are quite valuable to us – they seem like a counterbalance against our dreamers and wild boys…"

The rest of the way back to Peter Bayley's house they rode in silence. Thomas's thoughts was occupied with war and glory, while Charlotte's was a good deal simpler: how I wish he would kiss me goodnight! She thought hotly. But he didn't. And Charlotte went up the stairs to her room and cried herself to sleep. Once again.