ONE
As she gazed out the window at the beautiful countryside north of the town of New York, Lady Huntington wondered what all the fuss was about. In the last few years the situation had become downright unpleasant. It seemed to Charlotte that when she was a child there were none of these problems, no talk of independence, no factions among the colonists. Now the world seemed to be divided, split into those troublemakers who spoke treason against King George, and others, like her husband, who remained loyal to the Crown.
Lord Huntington was a wealthy and powerful Loyalist, quite likely to be the next colonial governor. At twenty-three, his wife was twenty years his junior. The beautiful young woman was considered one of the most important hostesses in the New York social scene. Behind her back, the other ladies hinted that, given her husband's age, she was not above a flirtation or two, but there was no evidence that she had ever been indiscreet. She managed Lord Huntington's household with an iron hand, and had a frosty aristocratic bearing entirely appropriate for her husband's lofty position.
On this spring morning her thoughts turned to the last two years as the wife of Lord Huntington. Shortly before Charlotte Randolph's wedding her mother had taken her aside for a discreet word of advice. She reminded her daughter what a fortuitous match had been made in Lord Huntington, and delicately broached the subject of a wife's duty to her husband. Mistress Randolph explained that men had certain needs and that Charlotte must allow him to satisfy these needs. He would come to her bed and expect her to submit to his ardor, and this was necessary if she was to provide him with an heir. If her husband was gentle and considerate, it would be over soon and she need not suffer unduly. Mistress Randolph suggested that Charlotte might wish to occupy her mind with thoughts of sewing or perhaps silently sing a hymn to help her get through the ordeal.
"Mother," Charlotte had asked, "does a wife not experience pleasure in this act?"
"Ever since Eve women have been tempted by their passions," explained her mother. "It is the responsibility of a woman of quality to resist those temptations. Only a common strumpet would allow herself to revel in carnal delight! Besides, Lord Huntington would no doubt be appalled if he thought he had married a woman who cannot control her passions."
Thus prepared, Charlotte awaited the event with some trepidation. The first time she was rather nervous, but Lord Huntington was indeed gentle, and upon discovering that it was not as unpleasant as she had expected she was more relaxed in subsequent visits. These visits were, in fact, rather infrequent. Apparently Lord Huntington was able to control his own passions admirably. In more than a year of marriage, Charlotte's husband had only come to her bed about half a dozen times. Always it had been in darkness, and being a Lady of quality she had never dared to touch him, so she was rather unsure as to what a man's private parts looked like.
Sometimes, when Charlotte had received him inside her and he was moving against her, she thought she began to experience a sensation that was not entirely unpleasant. There was a kind of—friction—that occurred that she found intriguing. On several occasions she was actually disappointed when he finished, wishing it could have gone on longer. Of course she kept thinking about what her mother had said, that proper women did not enjoy this sort of thing, and she was embarrassed by the prospect that she might find it pleasurable. Did this mean that she was harboring indecent urges? Best to banish such thoughts from her mind and not let it haunt her.
Lady Huntington now reflected on the situation with the colonists that necessitated her traveling to New York. It seemed they were perpetually dissatisfied, writing the most disloyal and inflammatory tracts in an attempt to foment rebellion. Did these malcontents not understand what it meant that King George was monarch by the Grace of God? Her husband believed that they must be dealt with harshly. He often said that hanging a bunch of them might be just what was needed to get their attention.
And now the troubles were worse. At Lexington and Concord in the Massachusetts colony there had been fighting in which men had been killed, and the rebel army was growing. War seemed imminent, and Lord Huntington was concerned for her safety. He said that if things got out of hand the Crown would send a large fleet of ships, full of soldiers to suppress the troublemakers. Her husband assured her that the British army was the best in the world, and they would make short work of this ragged bunch of malcontents. But just to be sure, he wanted his wife in a safe place.
Lord Huntington decided that Charlotte would be safer in town. They owned a house in New York on Wall Street, and if it became necessary to leave the colonies until order was restored it was a short distance to the sailing ships that would carry her to safety in England or Canada.
Servants had been sent ahead, with numerous trunks of the Lady's wardrobe, to open the house and prepare it for her arrival. Lady Huntington and her maid were ready to depart on the two-day journey by coach. They were accompanied by the driver and a footman, both carrying loaded pistols in the event that they were accosted by bandits. There had been some stories circulating that highwaymen were operating in the area, and Lord Huntington wanted the men armed. He kissed Charlotte and told her not to worry; he would join her soon, and waved good-bye as the coach rolled away toward the City. The length of the trip required them to stop overnight, and arrangements had been made at a refined inn along the way. As the day wore on and the travelers approached their rest stop, Lady Huntington was becoming somewhat short-tempered. "I don't see why I should be inconvenienced so, Betsy," she complained to her maid. "The house in town is not nearly as comfortable as the country, and I always find the city to be noisy and dirty."
"Yes, my lady," Betsy replied.
"And staying the night at this inn is really more than anyone should have to bear," Lady Huntington continued.
"Yes, my lady," said Betsy.
"Who is driving? I didn't even notice."
"Edward is driving, my lady. And Jonathan is serving as footman," Betsy answered.
"I can never tell who is who on the staff. Except Walters, who runs everything, and my own girls, of course," she said with a nod in Betsy's direction.
"Thank you, my lady."
"I doubt that I shall get a wink of sleep. No doubt it will take me a week to recover when we get to town."
"Yes, my lady," Betsy responded agreeably.
As the coach rattled over the Post Road toward the inn, none of the travelers, including Edward and Jonathan riding outside, were aware that they had an escort. The two riders who followed their progress at an unseen distance were quite experienced at remaining concealed on the road.
TWO
At the Wellington Inn, Lady Huntington and Betsy were shown inside by the solicitous innkeeper and his wife, while the driver and footman attended to the horses. The two men would spend the night in the quarters adjacent to the stables.
The coach had been closed for most of the trip to keep out the road dust. Nonetheless, Lady Huntington ordered Betsy to take her traveling dress outside and beat it, then to prepare a bath to wash away the 'dreadful dust' from the journey. Betsy helped her bathe, and afterwards the maid brushed her mistress's long black hair until it was dry, leaving it soft and shining. A light supper was prepared and served, but Charlotte did not have much of an appetite under these trying circumstances.
In spite of her tribulations, Charlotte slept surprisingly well, and in the morning she arose refreshed. They consumed a light breakfast in the rooms, and Betsy attended her mistress as she dressed for the remainder of their travels. Lady Huntington decided that stays would be too uncomfortable in the coach and instead wore a cotton chemise with a front-lacing bodice, half-sleeves and a full skirt. After Betsy drew the laces on the bodice she helped Lady Huntington into her travel gown, which covered her to the neck, then arranged her hair with ivory combs. After fetching her hat they were ready to set out on the road again.
As the footman helped Lady Huntington into the interior, Betsy was overseeing the innkeeper, who was loading her mistress's luggage on the back of the coach. When she came around to the door, the footman had already gone around to the rear to check on the bindings, so she entered the coach unassisted. Betsy looked after Lady Huntington and as the two women settled in, the footman closed and fastened the door and climbed up with the driver.
With the curtains drawn the interior was dimly lit, and the swaying motion rocked the ladies until they dozed off. Lady Huntington had no idea how much time had passed when she was gently shaken awake by her maid.
"My lady? My lady?" Betsy spoke in a hushed voice.
"Hm? What is it Betsy?" Lady Huntington asked as she opened her eyes. "Are we there yet?"
"No, ma'am. I'm not sure where we are," the girl replied, keeping her voice down.
