Betsy Ross by Marilyn Clay

Author:Marilyn Clay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Colonial American Mystery Novels, Karen Harper - Anne O’Brien - Candace Camp - Anna Campbell - Brandy Purdy - Mary Sharratt - Kate Em, Revolutionary war - colonial America spies, Washington America's first spymaster, Rebellious Patriots Romantic Suspense, 1776 American Revolutionary suspense novels, Christian American Historical Suspense novels, Libbie Hawker - Sally Gunning - Kathleen Koen - Kate Quinn, female sleuths historical mysteries
Publisher: Marilyn Clay
Published: 2014-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN AFRAID of the force of the enemy. They, like the Frenchman, look one way and row the other.” . . . General Heath to General Washington, August 1776.

The next morning, Betsy was unprepared to receive a caller before she’d had time to dress or pour her first cup of coffee. Pulling open the door, she found François Dubeau standing on the doorstep. It galled her when upon rushing inside he did not wait for her to offer him a cup of coffee, but instead ordered her, as if she were a serving wench, to fetch him one.

Her lips pressed together, Betsy headed to the kitchen for the kettle and while climbing back upstairs, attempted to gather her wits in order to confront her early-morning caller about terminating his courtship of her younger sister Rachel. But before she had a chance to say a word, he confronted her on a topic of his choosing.

“I was informed you spent last evening with the Dearborns, madame. If you tell me you heard nothing of import, I shall refuse to believe you. British officers were present, were they not?”

Betsy’s brows drew together. Had did he know that? Mrs. Dearborn had said the presence of the British officers was a surprise. “I have not had sufficient time in which to set down what I overheard last evening, sir. It is quite early and as you can see, I have only just arisen.” She pulled her wrapper closer about her body, beneath which she wore only her nightshift.

“You may forgo writing a report and relay the information to me. The British attack is slated for the end of this month and today is the twenty-fifth. The attack could come as early as today, or tomorrow.”

Aware that timing was critical, Betsy had already decided not to supply François with this particular information, as she wasn’t entirely certain he would pass it along. For all she knew, he was working for the British. He’d just confirmed that he already knew when the attack was to take place. Perhaps he already knew what she had learned: precisely where the attack was to take place, although why he was pretending otherwise made no sense. Still, she had decided to call upon Dr. Franklin this morning. In his hands the message would surely end up where it ought. However, with the disagreeable Frenchman now scowling down upon her, she had to say something. Perhaps she’d tell both men what she knew. “I learned that the British intend to launch their surprise attack upon the rebels from the Jamaica Pass Road.”

“Rubbish!”

Stunned by his reaction, Betsy grew defensive. “I saw the map. The men were gathered around Mr. Dearborn’s desk studying it. Captain Lancaster drew an X upon that very spot. The Jamaica Pass Road,” she repeated.

François paced. “Perhaps, madame, you do not know how to correctly read a map. A far more likely spot for ambush would be the Gowanus Road to the west, or perhaps the Bedford Road to the east.

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