Treason

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Chapter Two: Treason
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Saturday, November 9, 1776, 7:33 PM
New York City Hall
(Headquarters of General Sir William Howe)
Manhattan Island, New York
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"Did one of the Hessians do that to you?"

Truth Anne looked up, while trying not to react to Catherine pouring a small amount of whiskey across her lacerated hand. "No, just a broken wine glass. Have we met?"

The redcoated officer shook his head, gesturing toward the irate Colonel Raal's conversation with General Howe with a wry grin. "Leftenant Percival Williams, of the Twenty-Ninth Foot Regiment, at your service. May I have a seat?" He gestured at the length of velvet-padded bench extending off to her left, and took a seat during her hesitation to answer.

"Truth Anne Turner," she rushed out, before clenching her teeth against the pain. "Quite finished, Aunt Catherine?"

Catherine looked up at the new form of address, and was answered with a slight shrug. "I think I've gotten all the glass out, but you'll need to keep it bandaged until the wound closes. And no more wine glasses tonight."

"Would a teacup be allowed?" Leftenant Williams interjected.

"Was that meant to be some sort of invitation?" Another gentleman loomed behind Catherine, almost treading on the flame-embroidered edge of her skirts. "We must do better than that, if we're to uphold the honor of even the Twenty-Ninth Regiment, Leftenant. Apologies, ladies. Major Thomas Preston, at your service."

Truth Anne looked up at the Major, but Catherine did not - in fact, was paying even closer attention to Truth Anne's hand, as if there might still be a sliver of glass or two in the half-dried wound. "Truth Anne Turner, and this is my chaperone, Catherine Hawthorne," she introduced.

"We're having a small gathering the day after tomorrow, just the officers of the Twenty-Ninth and invited guests, for a formal tea. Might I ask if you two ladies might be available to escort Leftenant Williams and myself?" Major Preston asked, stepping to the side so that Catherine could get a clear look at him, even though she had not yet looked up.

Catherine looked up slightly, pale and trying to shake her head 'no' without making it obvious to the two redcoats, but Truth Anne was not paying attention to her at the moment. "We have no other committments. Where and when?"

"Don't be silly, Miss Turner. We'll send a carriage. Where are you staying?"


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Sunday, November 10, 1776, 10:43 PM
Catherine Hawthorne's Residence
Manhattan Island, New York
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"That will be sufficient, thank you." Catherine smiled, and the young serving-girl returned the smile, setting the silver tea service on the table in the formal dining room of the rented house. This particular house had been the home of a prominent New York lawyer, currently in Philadelphia attending the Continental Congress, and probably would have been commandeered by the British army and mistreated in various ways had his hired watchman not stared them down at the door during the fire of September 21st. After she had presented her credentials and letters of introduction, the watchman had been more than pleased to allow her the use of the house, even if it did mean that he had become a dangerous chink in her armor of lies. His daughter, a girl hardly older than Truth Anne herself, had taken upon herself a role that seemed to Catherine to be a strange hybrid of hostess and servant.

Stretching, Catherine's partner in this mad scheme stumbled into the room, blinking against the daylight streaming in the windows. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, her eyes narrowing into a predatory glare. In an accusing tone, she hissed, "Is that...tea?"

Catherine sighed. Like her partner, she had come to regard that very liquid, lifeblood of empire, as treasonous. Precisely because it had come to be symbolic of the empire that her homeland was currently fighting for independence from. "It is. Sit down, Truth Anne."

"Why are we drinking tea?" Truth Anne replied. "Cover?"

"That, and keeping you from reacting like this tomorrow. Remember, you got us invited to a formal tea party with redcoat officers. And I can assure you, this tea party will not be conducted in the Boston style." Catherine grinned, and her partner matched that grin as she finally relaxed slightly and settled into her wooden armchair. "Ferula," Catherine whispered, thin cords springing from her hawthorne-wood wand and wrapping around the girl's legs and chest, lashing her to the chair. The oaken chair creaked against the girl's considerable strength, but held together. The finest American craftsmanship, I imagine.

"What the blazes do you think you're doing?" Truth Anne yelled.

"Calm down. It's just a training tool. You must learn to sit up straight."

"I sit up straight," Truth Anne halfheartedly protested, knowing it was a partial lie the moment it crossed her lips.

"Not when you're eating, you don't." Catherine pointed out. Rising from her chair, she poured a cup of tea, and set it just within the girl's reach. "Now, pick that up."

Truth Anne reached out, straining against the cords, and wrapped her hand around the teacup, picking it up. "That wasn't so hard," she commented, slightly out of breath.

"You're doing it wrong." Catherine corrected. "You're supposed to use the handle."

Truth Anne blushed, but there was a defiant look in her eyes. "Why?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. "That's just the way it's done. Now put it down and pick it up properly."

"You do it." Truth Anne scowled, hurling the teacup at her 'aunt'. Catherine ducked, and the china cup shattered against the wall behind her, brown liquid splashing against the brocade-print wallpaper. I shouldn't have poured any tea in it yet. I should have started her out slow.

"Temper, temper." Catherine remarked, twisting the dragon's head off of her cane, revealing her wand. A quick wave and a whispered "Reparo" restored the china teacup, and she picked it up, carrying it back to Truth Anne's place at the table. "Don't do that again," she instructed, setting it in front of her - empty, this time.

As always, Truth Anne was a bit more docile, though definitely not tame, with a drawn wand in her sight-line. It was the one weapon she was actually afraid of, possibly because she had little or no defense against it, not being a witch herself. "All right," she sighed, reaching for the cup again.

"Just three fingers." Catherine instructed, sliding the wand back inside its hiding place, inside her cane, and twisting the dragon's head until it stopped.

"Do I really need to learn this?" Truth Anne pleaded.

"Well, if you want to carry out this crazy scheme of yours and not get hung as a spy, it might be a good idea, I would think." Catherine scowled.

"All right, all right." Truth Anne sighed, as Catherine returned to her chair at the opposite end of the table. "Three fingers, you said?" Truth Anne gingerly picked up the fragile china cup, then set it down. "It's empty. You don't trust me?"

"I know better." Catherine snapped back, gesturing at the still-spreading tea stain on the wall as the door creaked open. "What is it?"

The dark-haired serving-girl barely crossed the threshold into the formal dining room before asking, "Is everything all right?" Her eyes were on Catherine, and had she cast even a glance at Truth Anne, she would have thought that question silly.

"Quite all right, Miss Montgomery. Just a bit of clumsiness, but it's nothing I can't clean myself. Please do knock next time?" Catherine explained.

The serving-girl nodded. "Of course, Miss Hawthorne. If you will excuse me, I was about to change your bedsheets. And please, call me Jennifer."

"Please proceed, Jennifer." Waiting until the door closed, Catherine stared down her partner. "Remind me why I let myself be convinced to go along with this crazy scheme of yours?"