Although I was supposed to be in the other room actively working on my embroidery sampler, I stood with my ear pressed tightly to the door, listening and intrigued. I so much wanted to join in their cause. It didn't seem fair that I should be left out, as I was as ardent a patriot as my father and Fredrick. The lights grew dim in the firelight as I listened silently to their plotting through the door.
Suddenly, the sound of horse's hooves pounding against the dirt, the roaring of burning torches, and the shout of men's voices created a great commotion outside. Immediately, I jumped back as the solid oak doors of the drawing room flew open. I looked at the men with wide eyes. The horse's hooves dug into the dirt, stopping abruptly outside our door.
"Douglas Starland!" a man yelled from outside, not bothering to knock on the door. "I know you're in there!"
My father held a hand to his lips, then spoke quickly in hushed tones. "Stay here and be silent," he told the men and I. "I'll bid them to leave."
"I shall go with you, Douglas," Fredrick interjected.
"Nay," Father responded, his gaze falling upon me. "Take care of Abigail. Don't let anything happen to her."
Fredrick frowned, but gave one quick nod of his head.
"No, Father!" I quietly interjected. "Don't go alone! Take Fredrick with you. Maybe they will listen to reason."
"No!" he sternly whispered. "Stay here and be safe." He turned, but before opening the door, he looked over his shoulder, and our eyes met and held. "I love you, Abigail."
"I love you, too, Father."
Then a strong male voice from outside the door bellowed, "If you do not come out, I shall be forced to come in!"
"I'm coming!" Father yelled loudly, and then motioned for us to remain silent once again. Alone, he opened the door to face the angry mob.
The door was ajar, so I could see what was happening, even though Fredrick stood before me, blocking my way. Outside were many British soldiers, hungry, seething for blood.
"You commit treason tonight, Starland?" I recognized this man that was clearly the leader of the British soldiers that accompanied him. He wore a white powdered wig, but his features were young, despite his age. Funny. He lived on this soil, yet he stood with the British.
"I know not what you mean," Father responded, feigning nonchalance. "Mr. Clark, please come in and have a cup of tea so we may speak rationally." In the firelight, I recognized the man as Richard Clark, a British sympathizer loyal to the crown now wearing a Redcoat uniform.
Still frozen, the men inside waited. We could tell there were many men outside. And if Mr. Clark were to come in, how would we explain the gathering?
"Nay," Mr. Clark continued. "But pray, bid the men inside to come out. We wish to speak to all of you. And I am now Corporal Clark."
Through the doors, I saw many British soldiers on horseback. Each carried torches, and all carried hand guns or rifles with long swords at their sides. "I'm going out there," I said under my breath as I headed for the door. "This is ridiculous."
Within the beat of a butterfly's wing, Fredrick grabbed my arm, gently restraining me. I looked into his bright green eyes with surprise coloring mine. He simply shook his head.
"But I have to get out there!" I pulled with all my might against his grasp, but I could not budge my arm. "Let go of me! They're going to kill him if we don't go out there! We can't leave his fate to the mercy of those men!"
Fredrick held a finger to his lips, and then shook his head again. He was listening carefully to the exchange outside.
"I have no idea of what you are speaking," Father replied, innocently. "Richard, The hour is late. Pray 'ye go home and we shall speak of this tomorrow."
"Come out, all of you, or he dies!" Corporal Clark shouted at the house, pointing his musket at my father's chest.
Inside, we all gasped.
Fredrick's eyes flared as he looked into my then blue eyes. "Stay here and don't make a sound!" he whispered firmly then turned for the door.
Fredrick opened the door wide, then stepped out. "What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?"
Corporal Clark laughed. "Why, Mr. Lee! Why am I not surprised to find you here?"
"I was graciously invited to dinner by Mr. Starland tonight," Fredrick calmly replied. "It appears you've spoiled the evening."
"Oh, what a pity! Maybe you can reconvene at another time," Clark replied sarcastically.
"Maybe we shall," Fredrick replied, but he was through with pleasantries. "What seems to be the problem?" he repeated.
"Starland here seems to be hosting a secret meeting on the premises tonight," Clark paused for effect. "A dangerous endeavor."
Fredrick's eyes flared a bright green. "A dangerous accusation."
"Indeed," Corporal Clark said, laughing, clearly enjoying the exchange. "What say you, Starland? Shall we have that cup of tea, after all?"
Inside, we all looked at one another. The men did not hide, but steadied themselves for the events to come.
"Why don't we just settle our differences out here, like gentlemen?" Fredrick countered.
But Corporal Clark just laughed, not offering to dismount. Bullies usually find strength in numbers and solace within a crowd, flanked by British soldiers and men in gentlemen's dress. "Why don't we just burn the place to the ground?"
"No!" I yelled, running quickly out the door when Fredrick caught my arm. "What purpose would it serve to burn our home?"
Corporal Clark paused, looking directly in my eye, then leaned forward menacingly. "It will serve to rid the world of traitors."
"We are not traitors!" I yelled, absolutely livid. "You are the ones who are traitors! Traitors to your countrymen!"
"I have not betrayed my country!" Clark's words seethed like venom spewing from a snake. "It is you who have! Burn it to the ground and execute these traitors!"
Then Corporal Clark raised his musket to my father's chest and fired.
"No!" I yelled, but it was too late. Fire sparked brightly from the end of his musket as I struggled to free myself from Fredrick's grasp. Moving within the blink of an eye, Fredrick scooped me up, deposited me inside the house, and slammed the door.
Aksara