within your way. To obtain our objective, you need to concentrate only on our purpose. I have no doubt you think me cruel. Your fiancé left you here. In part due to my interference. You, in a sense, have no one to lean upon, but there isn't time for pity. I assure you, you aren't the only one with a sad tale, but you're in a position to help your country. Don't lose sight of our cause,” he said emphatically. ”Now, let's go over how to deliver messages.”
Her concentration remained on his instructions, but her skepticism remained about her ability. Guilt plagued her conscience with Lieutenant Fletcher, but she pushed it aside. A smile, a dance seemed to appease him and he seemed so ready to please her. Colonel Durham was a different matter. She only hoped he stayed away until it was deemed she could safely leave.
* * * *
Music carried out on the veranda. Hannah breathed in the cold night air. The crowded ballroom hadn't allowed her time to think and she felt the need to do so. The air felt like snow in the February night, but the cold didn't bother her. Much had occurred over the last few months. The impact of the Rebel victories at Trenton and Princeton were fairly minimal according to the British within New York. In truth Hannah realized that General Howe didn't seem overly concerned with much. His opinion clear upon anyone he came into contact with.
“The only disagreeable occurrence that has happened in this campaign has been due only to Rall's incompetence,” Howe stated openly at their last encounter, which occurred frequently. Howe liked to be entertained. Parties and dances had become the mainstay within New York since his arrival. “But a minor setback. The generality continues dispirited. Their Congress has fled. They have forced their people into their army. Their jails are overflowing. The back of the snake is broken. She can never recover to hurt, but may hiss a little before she gets to her hole and dies.”
Hannah watched and listened for the most part the attitude from the British she had encountered had been comparable. And it was that same attitude that would be the British's downfall. Up until now Howe hadn't considered Washington's army a threat. Now though, Howe had decided Washington's army would have to be destroyed. He had had an opportunity upon his invasion of New York, but Howe had decided the city more important than the army.
Hannah had seen, too, Howe's mistress, Mrs. Loring, a blond beauty whose husband, a Boston Tory, seemed content and not the least bit jealous with the arrangement. Perhaps because he was getting rich off the arrangement. The man had been appointed Commissary-General in charge of American battle prisoners.
She drew her shawl closer around her. The night had been fruitful and Tepper would be pleased. He often was. She had much to write and the need to go home filled her, but a fear ran through her since her last dance, the one that had sent seeking solace on the veranda.
Lieutenant Fletcher, an accomplished dancer, swept her over the dance floor, until a tap on his shoulder. A rather distinguished older gentleman interrupted the two of them. Not unattractive, with gray streaks within his dark hair, he gave a smile to Hannah that gave her a shiver.
“I hope you don’t mind, young man, if I interrupt your dance,” the man said simply. “But I find this young lady is the only family I have within the boundaries of New York.”
Panic seized her when comprehension of the identity of the man dawned upon her. She gripped tightly the Lieutenant’s arm in a pleading manner, but etiquette demanded his release of his partner. Her eyes beseeched the Lieutenant’s, whom in an apologetic manner bowed out.
“Why Hannah Corbett, if I didn’t know better I would say you weren’t happy to see me.” Joseph Gannon said sensing her panic. He placed his hand about her waist, swirling her around to the music. “I don’t need to introduce myself— Joseph Gannon, your
Her concentration remained on his instructions, but her skepticism remained about her ability. Guilt plagued her conscience with Lieutenant Fletcher, but she pushed it aside. A smile, a dance seemed to appease him and he seemed so ready to please her. Colonel Durham was a different matter. She only hoped he stayed away until it was deemed she could safely leave.
* * * *
Music carried out on the veranda. Hannah breathed in the cold night air. The crowded ballroom hadn't allowed her time to think and she felt the need to do so. The air felt like snow in the February night, but the cold didn't bother her. Much had occurred over the last few months. The impact of the Rebel victories at Trenton and Princeton were fairly minimal according to the British within New York. In truth Hannah realized that General Howe didn't seem overly concerned with much. His opinion clear upon anyone he came into contact with.
“The only disagreeable occurrence that has happened in this campaign has been due only to Rall's incompetence,” Howe stated openly at their last encounter, which occurred frequently. Howe liked to be entertained. Parties and dances had become the mainstay within New York since his arrival. “But a minor setback. The generality continues dispirited. Their Congress has fled. They have forced their people into their army. Their jails are overflowing. The back of the snake is broken. She can never recover to hurt, but may hiss a little before she gets to her hole and dies.”
Hannah watched and listened for the most part the attitude from the British she had encountered had been comparable. And it was that same attitude that would be the British's downfall. Up until now Howe hadn't considered Washington's army a threat. Now though, Howe had decided Washington's army would have to be destroyed. He had had an opportunity upon his invasion of New York, but Howe had decided the city more important than the army.
Hannah had seen, too, Howe's mistress, Mrs. Loring, a blond beauty whose husband, a Boston Tory, seemed content and not the least bit jealous with the arrangement. Perhaps because he was getting rich off the arrangement. The man had been appointed Commissary-General in charge of American battle prisoners.
She drew her shawl closer around her. The night had been fruitful and Tepper would be pleased. He often was. She had much to write and the need to go home filled her, but a fear ran through her since her last dance, the one that had sent seeking solace on the veranda.
Lieutenant Fletcher, an accomplished dancer, swept her over the dance floor, until a tap on his shoulder. A rather distinguished older gentleman interrupted the two of them. Not unattractive, with gray streaks within his dark hair, he gave a smile to Hannah that gave her a shiver.
“I hope you don’t mind, young man, if I interrupt your dance,” the man said simply. “But I find this young lady is the only family I have within the boundaries of New York.”
Panic seized her when comprehension of the identity of the man dawned upon her. She gripped tightly the Lieutenant’s arm in a pleading manner, but etiquette demanded his release of his partner. Her eyes beseeched the Lieutenant’s, whom in an apologetic manner bowed out.
“Why Hannah Corbett, if I didn’t know better I would say you weren’t happy to see me.” Joseph Gannon said sensing her panic. He placed his hand about her waist, swirling her around to the music. “I don’t need to introduce myself— Joseph Gannon, your
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