For King or Country

"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety." Benjamin Franklin

Early December 1776

"Goodnight, Father," Isabella whispered as she pulled her parents' chamber door closed behind her. She glanced in on her younger sisters across the hall who were in a deep slumber. For this she was grateful. The night they had just endured was unbearably heartbreaking.

Making her way out to the gathering room, she was startled when the logs in the dying fire shifted, sending sparks upward. One rolled forward and stopped dangerously close to her mother's basket of sewing materials. "Goodness gracious!"

Thankfully, Edward's calm maneuvers fixed the situation in an instant, taking away her fear of yet another tragedy tonight. Relieved, she approached and knelt next to him on the floor. "I did not realize you were still here. I apologize that it took so long to help my family settle."

He feigned a smile, staring into her eyes. "No explanation is necessary. The loss of your cousin was agonizing."

"It was . . . 'tis." Her throat tightened, emotions threatening to overflow once more. She lost count of how many times she had wept since finding Jacob suffering in the snow-covered field hours ago. She turned toward the door, pondering if she had any energy left to tend to his body still lying in her father's cart outside.

"My parents were so overcome; I am most certain they did not have the wherewithal to see you out the door before they retired for the night." She swept her hands over her wet cheeks to face him. "'Tis gravely inappropriate for you to be here after they have turned in."

He straightened. "Please forgive my lack of propriety. I wanted to ensure you and your family were cared for prior to traveling back to the inn." He sighed; concern etched into his features. "Isabella, I am truly, deeply sorry that I was unable to prevent the fate that befell your cousin tonight. I am still unsure how we erred in our plans; if it 'twas he who was early or I who was late."

She shook her head, still unable to grasp the turn of events that led her to discovering Edward's true allegiance, as well as Samuel's. She knew Jacob had been acting peculiar for the last several weeks. He had taken to arriving at odd times to escort her home or appearing in the middle of the woods, all the while his excuses making little sense.

She moved across the room to a shelf of books, rather than answering him. Reaching behind it, she produced a tarnished pocket flask, removed the cap and slugged back the whiskey from her mother's medicinal stash. Without concern for proper manners, she did not offer any to Edward. It was not he trying to decipher what was truth from fiction. Her life, at the moment, seemed wildly surreal.

When moments passed in silence without Isabella responding to Edward's apology, he gathered his musket, donned his tricorne hat and approached her.

"Earlier in the field you said you would find it in your heart to continue our courtship after learning of my . . . betrayal. However, it has merely been two hours and I do fear I have lost you. Or perhaps it is just my guilty conscience . . ." he confessed.

After swallowing down the last of her drink, her exhausted eyes met his. "I would rather not continue any other untruths between us, sir." She knew her words stung, but she continued, "I know not what I feel right now, other than pain and loss."

"Were you very close to your cousin?"

"Aye. After Samuel left to join the King's forces earlier in the spring, 'twas Jacob who stepped in to help our family. Even when he was already overworked caring for his younger siblings and mother —my aunt— who has been unwell for some time."

Edward remained ill at ease but quiet, allowing her time to explain and mourn aloud. He desired her to feel comfort and familiarity around him, even if it was very early in their relationship. He was also plainly aware and accepting of his burden in causing her aggrieved state. As she took a seat at the dining table, he stepped closer to lend an ear.

"Our family has had its share of unfortunate circumstances. My uncle was run through last year by a British patrol, thinking he was making trouble in the streets of York City. He liked his drink and allowed it to consume him one night too many. My aunt has been touched in the head ever since." Isabella gazed lazily toward the fire, now crackling with renewed energy. "My younger brothers died within six months of each other. My father's eyesight has worsened with great haste." She shrugged. "Only the Lord in His divine glory knows the path we are meant to walk. Who am I to question it?"

Silence stretched between the two for a goodly amount of time until Isabella heaved a regretful sigh. "I believe it is past time for you to depart. I am plagued by a drumbeat in my head for which the only cure is rest."

Edward nodded and stood, collecting himself. "If I may be of further help or comfort to you and your family, I pray you permit me to do so. I know how I have wronged you with my false claims, but . . . I still long to be in your life, for as long as you shall allow me."

She did not answer but followed him to the door before whispering, "Thank you for your presence this evening. And for your honesty, delayed though it may have been."

"Again, I do—"

"Apologize," she interrupted, all lady-like courtesy bled dry. Exhausted and pained, her mind spoke its words without care, "I remember."

He faced her, placing his tricorne as the large snowflakes from earlier gave way to a steadier, icy mixture. He knew any further explanations would be frivolous; it was time to hold his tongue regarding the entire ordeal.

"Saying good evening would be most inappropriate under these circumstances," he offered.

Isabella wrapped her arms around her slender waist after opening the door. "I am certain it was of some comfort to my parents to know you were here. And to me."

"You are most welcome," he replied, stepping into the snowy night. "Until tomorrow."

We must all hang together, or assuredly we shall all hang separately." Benjamin Franklin

The memorial service for Jacob Swan was a quiet affair. Though Edward had not been formally invited by Isabella, her uncle the innkeeper, Mr. Marcus Swan, told him of the gathering of Friends in two days' time at the Meetinghouse outside of Princeton to honor his late nephew. The young man had already been buried at his family farm the morning after his death. Several tales were shared by members of the Swan family, creating more smiles than tears. The remainder of the time was spent in silence, as the Quaker community listened for the Inner Light. It pained Edward to observe a somber and stoic Isabella, who only met his gaze but once.

Knowing the impropriety of approaching her, Edward took his leave. In his sadness, he acknowledged and accepted he must bear the burden of his guilt until she was receptive to being in his presence again.

~FKoC~

The bitter wind rattled at the lone window in Ensign Cullen's room. It had been difficult to fall into a deep slumber for the two nights since he last saw Isabella. Knowing he was due to muster at dawn, he accepted the inevitable exhaustion and rose to begin his day.

Once downstairs, Marcus Swan greeted him with a hot mug of tea.

"Thank you, Mr. Swan, but would it be too much trouble to forgo the tea and request coffee?"

"Nay," he replied quietly. "Apologies for not knowing thou's typical preference. Miss Isabella would not have made that error."

Edward offered a soft smile in agreement. No, she would not have.

"Coffee?" Questioned a voice from the shadow of the staircase.

Edward straightened up, looking around. "Begging your pardon, sir?"

"Seems to me that coffee is the drink of a traitor." The disembodied voice rounded the other side of the staircase, coming into Edward's line of sight. "I presumed all true Kings' men knew it to be proper to only consume tea."

Edward winced but recovered quickly. "Though the rebels tossed our tea in Boston Harbor, I never believed it to be my oath and honor to never substitute a different beverage," he continued speaking into the shadows. "And may I ask whom I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"Captain James Hunter," the voice said, stepping fully into the candle light. "And you are Ensign Cullen?"

Edward locked his body and saluted his superior. "Sir, good morning Sir. Profound apologies for not responding in accordance with—"

Captain Hunter held up his hand. "I shall not hold you to account for not identifying my voice, Cullen."

"Thank you, Sir."

They paused, each studying the other.

"But coffee? That does intrigue me," replied the captain, a curious look on his face, as if he were attempting to discern Edward's motives by merely looking at him.

"I have observed the effects to work more rapidly, Sir. And I have not been sleeping well of late."

Captain Hunter remained silent, only offering a raised eyebrow in response.

"Are you just passing through Princeton, Sir?" Edward continued.

"Aye. I arrived last evening on a new assignment. I shall be mustering with my regiment shortly."

"As am I." Edward took a large gulp of his coffee, internally cursing himself now that his mouth felt scalded. "Perhaps I shall see you at the field house in the future, Sir."

Hunter put his cup of tea down and reached for the change in his pocket. "I do not believe you shall. My garrison is in Trenton." He plunked down two coins. "Although it seems of little consequence at the moment."

"Thank ye, Captain Hunter," Marcus Swan responded before adding, "the papers report Washington's losses have damaged the Continentals' morale and winter is nigh."

"'Tis how we have been so informed as well, Mr. Swan. No enemy outposts or patrols spotted in days. Colonel Rahl has received wagonloads of cabbage in Trenton in preparation for a pork and sauerkraut feast. Methinks I shall look forward to enjoying a quiet Christmas dinner in two weeks' time."

Edward recalled Samuel Swan's words from four nights past. Captain Hunter too believes the Hessians to be settling in without fear of attack.

"I must be off. Good fortune to you, Ensign Cullen . . . Mr. Swan. God Save the King!"

"God Save the King," Edward repeated, a spark burning low in his belly. Intelligence such as this was meant to be carried and swiftly. He felt the weight of his allegiance burden him. First young Jacob Swan's death and now further proof of a relaxed Hessian Infantry.

Perhaps the time to strike was indeed now.

~FKoC~

"Our intelligence relays that Washington has been forced to retreat through New Jersey with hundreds of soldiers deserting along the way. Colonel Von Donop was with the garrison in Trenton, but his new orders have moved him south toward Mount Holly. Your mission shall support the fortification of Trenton under the command of Captain Hunter and the Hessian Colonel Rahl." Major Anderson dipped his quill again before marking the orders with his signature. He sprinkled pounce over the ink, allowed it to dry for several seconds, then folded and sealed it with a wax stamp. "It would seem we have the situation well at hand. With the winter bearing down, I pray we shall receive word of a surrender before the Continental Army vanishes altogether."

The young soldier remained stoic though the rapidity of his thoughts raced like a war horse. All of this intelligence was now confirmation of the enemy's plans. Another transmission would be of vital importance but it had only been four days since the young Swan boy had been killed. To his knowledge, a replacement courier had not yet been named let alone made contact. Perhaps Isabe—

"I said you are dismissed, Ensign Cullen."

Edward blinked with a start, refocusing on his superior seated before him. "With your permission, Sir, may I take a brief leave to go inform the family of my . . ."

"Affianced?" Major Anderson interrupted, not looking up from his ledger. "May I presume this is a local girl? The orders to Trenton with your newly-reassigned officer and garrison stand. You move at dawn."

"Understood, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

~FKoC~

If not for the raucous crowd of inebriated Hessian soldiers cheering and slamming their mugs on the table, Ensign Cullen's hasty entrance into Friends' Tavern may have been notable. He gathered his composure, yet approached the innkeeper in earnest. "Good evening, Mr. Swan."

Marcus Swan turned his attention away from the bawdy crowd. "Ensign Cullen, 'tis a late evening for thou, is it not?"

"Quite late. Might there be a chance Miss Isabella has not yet taken her leave for the night?" Edward silently prayed he had not lost the crucial opportunity to relay his news.

Swan motioned to the cluster of boisterous soldiers. Edward's following gaze caught the piercing stare of the same tall, blonde officer from this morn, now donning a green coat, and being honored with raised mugs. "My niece was just preparing a late supper for our new Captain Hunter."

"Ensign Cullen," Isabella's soft voice floated from behind his shoulder, recapturing his attention. The sound was both welcomed and concerning, knowing they had little time to spare and so much still to be explained. The coolness in her tone conveyed her continued raw pain and mistrust.

"May I have a moment of your time, Miss?"

Marcus laughed. "Such formalities. Ye are betrothed, are ye not? Charles Swan already gave his permission." He waved them off and returned to clearing tables.

Isabella offered her uncle a small smile and dipped her head, drying her hands on the apron of her dress while moving past Edward into the closed off and darkened dining room. When she turned to face a hopeful Edward, her hollow stare and quirked brow were unfortunate yet not unexpected.

"I have urgent news for your brother I must share . . . but not here," he whispered while her alarmed gaze darted quickly to the German and British enemies merely a stone's throw away. "May I please escort you home, m'lady?"

"Do I have a choice, Sir?"

Edward choked on his response, struck dumb from Isabella's quick verbal retort.

When he remained silent for the next few seconds, she huffed. "I must first serve supper to the King's men. My uncle shall dismiss me after their dining hour." She brushed past him to exit, but turned her head. "You may escort me then."

"Th-thank you, Isabella."

Without turning to meet his gaze, she offered a curt nod, leaving Edward to recover from another assault on his heart.

~FKoC~

Edward held the door open for Isabella as they prepared to brave another snowy night's trek to the outskirts of Princeton.

"Goodnight, Uncle."

"Fare thee well, Niece," Marcus called after them.

Edward and Isabella walked in silence until Friends' Tavern was long behind them. His frenzied need to pass along all he had learned now usurped his desire to give Isabella the time and distance she deserved.

"Thank you again for allowing me to escort you home this evening."

Isabella cleared her throat. "When you said you had urgent news, I felt it was my duty to listen. I meant what I said the night my cousin died."

Edward's heart skipped a beat. He was desperate to hear that all hope for their future had not been lost. Perhaps if—

"This shall be my country, too, Ensign Cullen." Isabella's words interrupted and dashed his fanciful thoughts. "I must be willing to work with my allies, whomever they are, to achieve that goal."

Another sting, another moment of swallowed pride. But for the greater good of the present, he accepted her position and pressed on with the abundance of intelligence he gained earlier in the day.

The whispering fall of snowflakes and the subtle crunching of fresh snow beneath their feet were almost deafening in comparison to Edward's murmured explanation. He went on for several minutes, Isabella giving him her rapt attention.

"And when must you depart for Trenton?" she finally interjected.

"We muster at dawn. I must ask you, have you had need to approach your stables of late?"

She shook her head. "Not since we buried Jacob in the ground. Emmett and Jasper, our free men, have greeted my mother and sisters after their hospital work for the past two days. 'Tis they who settle the horses every night. Why do you ask?"

He peered over both his shoulders before responding. "There shall be a marking, three wooden slabs from the ground, on the southeast corner if there is information that must be shared." He glanced at her, awaiting a reaction. "I confess that after your home has gone dark, I have come around each evening in the hopes of seeking communication. Alas, there has been no news . . . until now."

Isabella said nothing, but tightened her cloak while her eyes scanned the woods ahead of them.

"I must leave a marking tonight but know not if there is a new courier to relay the information to your brother. Before the night your cousin perished, he spoke of a new system to be enacted. Something that would be far less dangerous than a word of mouth passing of information." Edward swallowed tightly. "His death halted the instituting of whatever that new particular system was to be."

"Perhaps Samuel knows?" Isabella whispered.

"None of us was thinking clearly the night we found your cousin had been attacked. If your brother knows the new system, he took that knowledge back with him to his camp without alerting me."

"I shall bring him the information, then."

Edward looked at her, horrified. "Are you mad? That is out, out of the question."

"What other choice have we? Come morning, you will be miles away and unable to return to relay the information or to be trained in this new system you speak of."

"Isabella, if even for a moment I considered your outlandish idea, you must understand that there is a system of couriers. I have no idea how many of us there are in this network. I have not an inkling who can be trusted. 'Tis for our own safety that we only know the man with whom we directly work."

"Yes, but would that not mean that it 'twas my brother with whom Jacob communicated?"

"I—I do not—" Edward stammered, feeling exasperated. Sharing this information with Isabella was never meant to be an invitation for her to become physically involved in consorting with admitted spies.

"Have you any idea where your brother's regiment is posted? Perhaps if I leave now, I could somehow return in time to muster with the garrison as it proceeds toward Tren—"

Edward's words were cut short by the faint but rapid pounding of hooves approaching them from behind. His spine stiffened, his reaction matching her alarmed, widening eyes. Placing his hand under her elbow, he gently pushed her to increase her pace toward their destination.

"You there! Halt! Halt in the name of the King!"

Isabella allowed a gasp to escape her lips as Edward turned to seek the one who called out to them.

A single rider approached and pulled back on the reins of his horse so abruptly, the beast reared onto its hind legs with a deafening neigh. Edward attempted to calm the horse by raising his hands in submission, then grabbing the bearing rein and offering pats and rubs along its broad neck.

"Excuse me, Sir," he panted, "my apologies for the interruption."

"What is it, Corporal?" Edward asked.

"A fire, Sir. Out near the field house."

Edward furrowed his brow. "What has you riding in the opposite direction if you should be back with the regiment fighting to extinguish the blaze?"

"Most of the regiment departed for Trenton earlier this eve, Sir. We need the aid of every able-bodied man. 'Tis in danger of spreading toward the powder barn, Sir. All leaves have been canceled. I was sent from the tavern where you are quartered. The proprietor said you would be escorting your intended home."

Intended. For a brief moment, Edward forgot the burdens which plagued him and stole a glance at Isabella, curious to see if the term of endearment had the same effect on her that it did him. She watched the rider, her plump lips pulled into her mouth, and caught his gaze. She demonstrated no emotion but awaited Edward's resolution to this new predicament.

"I shall give you a moment, Sir, but we must be off."

Edward nodded and pulled Isabella toward the direction in which they had been traveling. The young corporal was but a breath away. There would be no more consorting this night.

"Pray you forgive me for departing so quickly," Edward started, accounting for his audience.

"Of course," she replied, her eyes darting to the rider.

"I know not how long this disruption will keep me, but if morning should come and I do not have the privilege of seeing your fair face before I must march to Trenton, I pray the Lord bless you and your family, Isabella."

"But—" she attempted to whisper an interruption, but he shook his head ever so slightly, tensing his jaw.

The two could only hope they were having a similar silent conversation with each other. There was a multitude left unspoken. How would Edward transmit this vital information to Samuel? What was this new system being established for intelligence couriers? And how in the name of Heaven would he atone for the innumerable untruths he had plied Isabella with for weeks and weeks?

It was a burdensome load to bear, but for now, his duties required him to depart from her side. Edward reached for her hand and she obliged by slipping her shaking fingers along his palm.

"May the Lord keep you and cover you," she spoke softly, adding a curtsy. "I shall keep a place in our stable for your horse until your safe return. I am certain he will enjoy grazing in the field alongside." She prayed he understood she would remain vigilant for signs.

His heart beat in double time and his jaw tensed, unable to scold her or dissuade her actions while he was away. Rather, he sighed deeply and lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing his warm, soft lips to her fingers. Though the winter and its cursed, plunging temperatures raged around them, Isabella's hardened and cool demeanor toward Edward started to crumble, if only for a moment.

"God go with you, Ensign Cullen."

He offered a wistful smile and a single nod before turning on his heels and marching back toward Princeton to fight a fire with the British soldiers who remained behind.

Isabella watched him walk away until the pang of sadness she felt gave way to anxious determination. She held out her lantern and swiftly strode in earnest back to her family's farm, her mind reeling from all Edward had shared and the endless possibilities that lay ahead.

The transfer of this piece of intelligence would be essential to the Patriot cause. It must get to Samuel without delay so he could move it through the ranks, perhaps even all the way up to the great General Washington.

When last Isabella knew, her brother's Light Dragoons were posted near White Plains, New York. Isabella would go. She knew how to ride and knew the path on the back roads to travel there. Having accompanied her uncle on many sales ventures to Morristown and York City before, her fortitude would take her that distance and the two hours beyond in order to find her brother and do her part for the Cause. Her uncle would allow her absence from the tavern since most of the patrons were moving out with new missions. She would plan to travel under the guise of checking in on Aunt Liza –Jacob's mother— and informing Samuel of Jacob's death.

It could work. It had to.

Ensign Cullen –Edward— had to do his duty for the Cause; this would be hers. Her feelings for him were a disarray of longing, anger, fear, confusion, and suspicion. But she prayed the Lord's blessings would surround him on his mission so that if and when they were able to reunite, there might still be a chance for their future.

For now, a free America had to take precedence above all else.

A/N: Oooof. It's been a while, I know. Needed a minute (or two years) to reclaim my writing mojo. But, I've dusted it off and am giving it a go again. My plan is absolutely to complete this historical fiction tale. I've never started something and left it incomplete, and I don't plan for that to ever happen. I appreciate you being here. I can't guarantee an update schedule because, well life with three kiddos being cyber-homeschooled in a quarantine, a Marine officer hubby continuing his training with his JROTC kiddos (and us!) while trying to maintain my own speech therapy clients has put a bit of a damper on life...but we are healthy, so I count my blessings all the same. I promise to keep writing when I'm able.

Hope you are all safe and well.

xoxo, Yummy