Patriots: Boston

Chapter Twenty Three: The Captain

I pulled away from my father's arms and knocked on the Harold's front door. Amaka opened it.
"Hello, Miss," my father said, "May I speak to the Mistress of this house?"
Amaka looked startled but also like she was trying to stifle a laugh. "She's still asleep, sir. I'm afraid you will have to come back later."
"Alright then. Thank you," he said with a slight bow. "Goodbye, Liza!"
"Bye, Papa!" I called.
I shut the door and followed Amaka to the kitchen. She burst out laughing.
"What is so funny?" I asked nervously.
"I really shouldn't say!" She whispered between laughs.
"What is it, Amaka?" I inquired again.
"You'll find out soon enough," She said, collecting herself but smiling slyly.
"Amaka..."
"Just...just go get the parlor ready for breakfast. It's good today," she said, dismissing me.
I was still very confused and nervous, but I decided I should probably get my work done before I investigated. I snatched the pale pink table cloth and the blue rose breakfast tea set from the china cabinet and set the table for two in just the right way, just like in etiquette lessons. I returned to the kitchen to find an empty bucket. I guessed I had to get water from the town pump now. How lovely.
"I'm headed out, Amaka. I'll be back quickly. I just need to get some water," I told her before I left.
On my way to the town pump I realized that it was actually a shorter walk from the Harold's than from my own house. I filled the buckets with no trouble and made my way back to the Harold's with the yoke on my shoulders, trying really hard not to splash. I made my way into the kitchen from the back door and set the buckets down. The fire was going in the stove.
"Might I use the heat to boil a bit of water for their tea?" I asked Amaka.
"Of course you may," she said good naturedly, taking the freshly backed bread out from the oven.
I boiled enough water for one tea pot full and decided that was good enough. I brought the tea pot into the dining room and set it in the center of the table. Now it was time to wait for Cordelia and her mother to wake up.
I decided that it might be nice to mop the floor of the  hallway that led to the bedrooms, because it obviously had not been done in a long time, mainly because I had never done it. As I mopped I absentmindedly started humming a song that I had heard one of the militia fifers playing in the camp. Suddenly I heard one of the doors open from behind me and I froze.
  "Shut up! Some of us are trying to sleep!" A man's voice said.
   I didn't recognize it at first, but as I turned around slowly I realized the man looked familiar. Then it hit me. This was one of the British soldiers that Mrs. Harold had over, Sergeant Jennings. It had taken me a second to realize who it was because he was not in uniform, but in a long nightshirt. Oh my goodness!
   "What are you gaping at?!" He snapped at me.
  "Ummm...n-nothing," I stuttered.
  "My god, you're rude even for a maid! Wait, aren't you her daughter?" He asked, very confused.
  "I-I'm the m-maid," I stuttered awkwardly again. "S-Sorry for disturbing your sleep, s-sir."
  He shut the door quickly and obviously climbed back into Mrs. Harold's bed. I couldn't believe it. Sergeant Jennings had stayed the night! I never thought Mrs. Harold would go this far!
After a moment of internal shock, I returned to mopping the floor. After just about five more minutes of mopping, there was a knock on the door. I propped the mop against the wall and went to go get it. I took a deep breath to prepare myself for any interrogation I might need to go through. I opened the door slowly to reveal a light haired middle aged man of medium height with hazel eyes and a surprised expression. His clothes looked old and worn but like they had been quite stately and respectable at one time. He wore no hat, and his hair was falling out of its ponytail. He looked very tired like he had been through something hard recently and needed time to recover.
  "May I help you, sir?" I asked politely.
  "Who are you?" He asked in a puzzled but tired voice.
  "I'm Betty, the maid," I said cheerfully, with a little curtsy.
  "I'm Captain Robert Harold," he said flatly.
  I gasped and my jaw must have dropped dramatically. "S-so y-you live h-here? You're not...you're not DEAD?!" I stuttered in shock and disbelief.
Captain Harold sighed, "What do you think, girl? How many dead men have you seen walking around like this?"
"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry!" I blushed, "I'm so stupid! Come in, sir!"
  He came in slowly, swaying a little while he walked. "So when did my dear Amelia hire a new maid?" He asked in an exhausted voice.
"Back April or May. I don't remember, but it's been months. We received word that you had been lost at sea. We thought you were dead, sir. This is a very pleasant surprise indeed! A miracle actually! But I must say, you look famished, sir. Would you like a nice breakfast?" I asked, in a frenzy.
"That might be nice," he sighed, exhausted and obviously done with me.
"Alright then, that will be right up, sir, but first maybe you should relax in your beautiful parlor," I said quickly.
He sat down in the parlor and I ran to the kitchen frantically. I started stirring the porridge more vigorously and grabbed more tea bags from the shelf. Amaka started laughing."Did you bring home a boy or somethin'?"
"No! But Mrs. Harold apparently did," I whispered in a panic.
"Oh yeah, so you found Sergeant Jennings. Is that who you're up and serving for like you're a crazy gal?" She laughed again.
"Amaka, that's not Sergeant Jennings in the parlor..." I whispered nervously.
"Well who is it then? Your boyfriend?" She said with a wink.
"N-no..." I stuttered, "It's the master of the house."
"The master? That's a real funny joke, Bitty Betty, but I ain't falling for it!" She scoffed.
"He's not dead, Amaka," I whispered uneasily. "He's in the parlor!"
"Again, you must be going mad or not getting enough sleep! Why don't you go lie down and I'll get breakfast?" She said, still not believing me.
"Amaka, I'm serious! Captain Robert Harold is sitting in the same house as Sergeant Jennings who apparently just spent the night with his wife, who thought he was dead of course, and they're going to wake up any minute!" I said, spooning up a large portion of porridge from the pot for Mr. Harold.
"Liza, that's impossible. I was told by Miss Cordelia that he drowned while at sea!" Amaka said, looking a little frightened. "Maybe he's a ghost!"
"He's really white, but he's living, I think," I muttered.
"You didn't touch him to make sure he wasn't dead?" Amaka asked.
"Of course I didn't touch him! Just randomly touch my master to make sure he's not a ghost? No, ma'am!" I said frantically.
  "Well, I'd guess the master needs his breakfast," she said, handing me the porridge bowl with a spoon and a napkin.
  "Amaka, what are we going to do about that damned Sergeant Jennings in the bedroom with his wife?!" I asked.
"I don't know. Maybe just let the master find the sergeant himself?" She suggested.
"We can't do that!" I exclaimed. "Can we?"
"The master might as well know what the Mistress is doing," Amaka laughed. "This whole deal is just so entertaining for me! High class folks have so much drama and scandal!"
"I'll say," I muttered, "But what are we gonna do?! We can't totally expose her!"
"I don't know, sweetie. If you wanna figure it out go right ahead, but I think I'll just stay here with the food which is almost done," She said with a smile.
"Alright," I sighed as I headed back out to the parlor.
Mr. Harold was sleeping in the chair with his bowl of porridge in his lap. He fidgeted in his sleep, so I took the bowl and put it on the little table. I breathed a shaky sigh of relief that everyone was being quiet and that he was sleeping, but that was short lived.
"BETTY!" Cordelia hollered from her bedroom.
I cringed at her volume and took off scurrying to her room. "What, Cordelia? Please don't shout."
"My laundry? Where is it? I need my frocks, Betty! Where are they?" She demanded as she stood with her hands on her hips in her nightgown and nightcap in front of her wardrobe.
"Of course, miss. They're on the line outside. I'll fetch them for you," I said with a little curtsy.
"They better not be cold, you useless waste of money," she grumbled.
I huffily dismissed her rude comment and snuck past Mr. Harold to go outback to take the laundry off the line. It was a cool autumn morning, so it was in fact, cool in temperature. I tried breathing on a few of the dresses just for the heck of it to try to warm them up, but that couldn't have done much. I tiptoed back to Cordelia's room and opened the door with my free hand.
"Well that took you long enough!" Cordelia snapped.
"Do you ever grow tired of being bitter and impatient?" I asked, annoyed.
"Shut up, Betty! I can beat you if I wish!" She yelled, picking up a switch.
Why in all hell did she have that in her room? "Of course, Miss. My mistake to be rude." I said, curtsying and backing away quickly.
"When will breakfast be ready?" She asked.
"As soon as you're ready to eat it, miss," I said as I exited the room.
Mr. Harold was still asleep in the chair. Perfect! Well...not quite. I heard the footsteps of two people coming towards me. It had to be Mrs. Harold and Sergeant Jennings.
"Betty! Is the breakfast ready?!" Mrs. Harold shouted.
I cringed at her tone and feared it would wake up her husband.
  "Yes!" I called in a hushed voice. "It's on the table in the dining room!"
"My god, Betty! Why are you whispering?!" Mrs. Harold snapped at me.
"Sorry, Madame," I said with a curtsy, leading her and Sergeant Jennings into the dining room. Thankfully they were both in their proper clothes.
  "Have you seen Cordelia yet this morning?" Mrs. Harold asked me.
  "Yes, I fetched her laundry. She shall be out in a few minutes I presume," I said.
"Oh lovely," Mrs Harold said, slipping into her chair which Sergeant Jennings had pulled out for her like a gentleman. My boys never did anything like this.
"Did you sleep well, Madame-" I stopped myself from saying, "I mean, did you lie comfortably?" I cringed as I said it.
"W-why yes, Betty, we did. K-Kind of you to ask," Mrs. Harold stuttered in shock.
"It was lovely, Miss Amelia," Sergeant Jennings said to her fondly.
  "I'm glad you thought so, Mr. Jennings," Mrs. Harold said, seeming a bit more comfortable.
  Cordelia floated into the room in a beautiful yellow frock with white lace trim. "Good Morning, Mother! Good Morning, Sergeant Jennings!" She greeted them politely.
"Good morning, Miss Cordelia," Sergeant Jennings bid her good morning courteously. 
"Good Morning, dear," Mrs. Harold said as she spooned her porridge daintily.
I held my breath cautiously throughout breakfast. I was pretty relieved when they decided they were done eating. I began to clear the dishes, but then Mrs Harold suggested something that caused me to drop one of the plates and crack it.
"How about we all go sit in the parlor!" she suggested. When I dropped the plate, she yelled at me,"Betty, you clumsy idiot! Look what you've done! Pick that up and make sure there are not any China shards on the rug!"
I nodded submissively and began to look for shards. I found a little one as it was stuck in my finger and caused it to bleed. I removed the shard carefully and took the broken plate into the kitchen quickly as Mrs. Harold, Sergeant Jennings, and Cordelia headed for the parlor. I knew I needed to impede them before they found Mr. Harold. I flew out in front of them.
"You mustn't go in the parlor right now! I haven't dusted it yet. How about I go do that now and you three go outside and admire those beautiful autumn leaves?" I suggested, trying not to sound suspicious but failing.
"Betty, you're forgetful and stupid. I don't mind a little dust! I'm going to sit in my parlor anyway! You are not permitted to tell me what I must and mustn't do!" She said angrily.
I guess she was done pretending I was her daughter. Maybe she had told the sergeant already. Either way my lame attempt to keep them out of the parlor failed, and Cordelia threw a kick at my ankle as she passed me on her way through the parlor door.
Suddenly Mrs. Harold let out a scream.
"Amelia, why is this man on the love seat?!" The sergeant asked, alarmed.
Mrs. Harold covered her mouth with her hand. Cordelia looked a mixture of shocked and angry.
"Amelia..." The sergeant asked again.
"No! No! It can't be!" Mrs. Harold shrieked again.
Mr. Harold woke with a start. "Amelia? Hello, my dear, it's been so long!" he said.
"Robert?! But you're supposed to be dead!" Mrs. Harold screamed with disbelief.
"Really? Well, you see, I am not dead. Hello, Cordelia. My, how you've grown up! Beautiful! Just like your mother!" Captain Harold said with a smile. He definitely seemed happier now and less tired, until he looked at Sergeant Jennings who was looking extremely confused and disturbed and guilty. Captain Harold's expression darkened. "Who is that?"
  Mrs. Harold and Cordelia didn't answer.
  "I am Sergeant Michael Jennings of the Army of King George the Third. Who might you be lying on a fine lady's love seat?" Sergeant Jennings asked condescendingly.
"I am Captain Robert Harold, Amelia's husband. The master of this house! Has Amelia not told you about me?" Captain Harold asked with the same annoyed tone.
"A-Amelia?! You are married?! Your husband is alive?!" The sergeant shouted in shock. "Well I never...how did you get in, sir?!"
"The little maid let me in this morning. She said my wife was still asleep. Yes, she is married, and her husband is alive! He is very much alive, for I am he, standing right in front of you!" Captain Harold yelled angrily. "What business do you have here, Mr. Sergeant?!"
  "A-Amelia...you told me your husband was dead! I-if I could just g-gather my things from your room and go..." The sergeant stuttered, his face as red as his coat.
"Why would your things be in her room?" Captain Harold asked accusingly. "Amelia, have you been-" he stopped and took a deep and angry breath, "Unfaithful to me while I've been away?! With this man?!"
"R-Robert..." She struggled to get the words out in all her fluster.
"Amelia, I cannot believe your husband was alive all this time and you let me do what I did!" The sergeant exclaimed as he covered his face with his hands and left the room.
"What you did?!" Captain Harold bellowed.
"Betty, did you know he was in here this whole time?!" Mrs. Harold yelled at me, trying to change the subject.
"As of this morning, Ma'am," I squeaked nervously, fearing what would happen.
"You let him in?!" She screeched.
"Y-yes, Ma'am," my voice shook and my hands trembled. My stomach twisted and cramped and my face felt hot, but I still managed to say what I felt needed to be said, "He's your husband, the master of this house. I felt it was my job. I had no idea you were in bed with the sergeant until-"
  I regretted what I said immediately. Captain Harold's eyes filled with complete and utter rage and pain of betrayal and he stormed out of the house into the street. I saw Sergeant Jennings slip out the back door from the window. Mrs. Harold's green eyes flashed with tears of anger and guilt and self hatred. However, instead of breaking down crying or not taking out her feelings on the closest thing, me, she grabbed me by the hair with a painful yank and dragged me out of the parlor into the back lean to. She threw me to the ground and I hit it with a painful thud. I hit my head on the wall and my vision went blurry for a second. The next thing I knew she had grabbed a leather strap and whipped me on the back with it. The pain was so great it immediately made tears come to my eyes but I tried not to cry. She hit me again and again with the strap until it became too painful and terrifying to resist crying anymore. I completely broke down. Mrs. Harold continued to whip me with the strap and hurled insults at me about how useless I was and how I was stupid and this was all my fault for letting him in and how she should fire me but that wasn't punishment enough for what I had done. I continued to cry and tried not to scream out but after 10 lashed with the strap it just slipped out.
  "Mercy, Ma'am! Please!" I cried out after about 3 minutes of beating that felt like forever.
  "Mercy?! MERCY?! AFTER WHAT YOU PULLED?!" She shrieked at such a blood curdling volume it terrifies me so much I cried harder.
  "I-I don't even know w-what I-I've done!" I sobbed, shaking all over.
She just slapped me across the face with her hand twice and hurled the strap at me and stormed off to her room. I could hear her break down crying too. I wasn't even quite sure why she was so angry with me. Was I really just the closest thing that she could beat? Had I actually done something wrong? I didn't know, but I was petrified with fear. My entire body stung and was wet wth cold sweat. I didn't want to move because it hurt too much, and I was deathly afraid that she would come back to hurt me even more. Her words rang through my ears and actually got to me. I was stupid. I was useless. I was to blame for everything. Everything was somehow my fault. I didn't know why or how, it just all seemed true. I continued to cry there on the floor until Amaka found me curled up in a ball in the lean to.
"Aww, honey. What's 'appened?" She asked sympathetically, sitting down next to me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
"It's my fault. I exposed her. Everyone i-is angry because of m-me," I sniffled.
"Honey, you didn't do nothing. I don't see how you could have. The mistress is a mean lady, isn't she? Don't take anything she says to heart. She's probably just a really sad lady deep down," She hugged me tighter and stroked my hair lovingly. This hurt a lot everywhere, but I didn't mind. It was comforting. "How about you go home now, just for your own safety's sake. Alright? I'll cover your duties for the rest of the day. The mistress and Miss Cordelia will probably not need much today. Besides, if they're angry with you, they probably don't wanna see you 'round here. I'm real sorry she hurt you."
  I stood up slowly and painfully. "You don't need to be sorry. I deserved what I got, but thank you. Don't do too much of my work. It's still my work," I whispered nervously. "Goodbye, Amaka."
"Goodbye, sweetie," she said sweetly.
I headed homeward, and never wanted to home back there again, but I knew I needed to.