Trade was brisk. For the British army and the loyalists, New York was an oasis where food was cheap and plentiful and the markets overflowed with merchandise that catered to the British taste in comfort. Even throughout the winter months, when snow covered the frozen ground and howling winds whistled through the city, dinners, balls, and plays were not uncommon diversions to while away the frigid evenings. With the coming of early spring, the colonial loyalists threw themselves into a frenzied succession of social gatherings, seemingly intent on proving that, despite the rebellion, New York could still be a place of extravagant gaiety.
Edward learned forward and patted his gray mare’s glossy neck. She had no particular liking for the noisy harbor, preferring, he knew, the quiet of the countryside or the order of the March. She was skittish and tensed for action, reminded, Edward supposed, of the tumult of battle by the boisterous human activity of the thriving dock.
He laid his hand on his left thigh and rubbed it. The saber wound he had suffered in one of the many skirmishes with the rebels on Staten Island still ached. He stroked Delila’s neck once again in gratitude. Had it not been for her rearing up to protect him, the wild-eyed rebel’s saber would have slashed through his belly.
He turned her away from the Battery to his destination, Number 1 Broadway, General Howe’s residence. A message from the general had interrupted him just as he had finished the review of his troops at City Hall. He shook his head in frustration at the prospect of speaking to Howe. The general’s calmly announced plan to open communication lines with Burgoyne marching from Canada by removing south to Chesapeake had left Edward and many of his fellow officers stunned. Edward knew that General Howe and General Burgoyne held each other in mutual dislike, but it seemed fantastic to Edward that such petty rivalry could cloud Howe’s military judgment. To leave Burgoyne in the lurch would be of incalcul
able assistance to the rebel forces. It was a ridiculous plan that Edward still hoped to forestall. Time, at least, was on his side, for it was unlikely that Howe would move before summer.
The Kennedy House at 1 Broadway was a stately two-story Georgian mansion set back from the busy street and overhung by giant elm trees. Edward’s summons here rather than at General Howe’s headquarters north of the city at Beekman House likely meant that the general was readying for the encounters the spring would bring and wanted to be closer to his troops. Edward grinned ruefully as he handed Delila’s reins to a young private and walked up the wide front steps. It was not so much that he would have liked to join Howe’s expedition southward, it was rather that the assignment would have freed him of the person of Sir Henry Clinton, who was to take over Howe’s command as lieutenant-general. General Clinton, in Edward’s opinion, was more unfit even than General Howe. A more haughty, churlish, and stupid man Edward had yet to meet. General Howe, at least, was well-liked by the Tories in New York for his fairness in his dealings with them, particularly after the fire of the previous September, and was a credit to his rank at social gatherings. Even General Clinton’s aide, Major Andre, himself a brilliant ornament in New York society, agreed with Edward on this point. But they were both helpless in the face of General Howe’s unlikely decision.
“The General is expecting you, sir.”
“Thank you, Dobbs.” The fresh-faced young lieutenant newly arrived from Dorset was, like Edward, assigned to remain in New York and endure the command of General Clinton. As he walked past Dobbs, he wondered about the excited undercurrent he had heard in his voice. Perhaps General Howe had changed his mind. He walked faster, ignoring the twinge of protest from his thigh.
A young private scurried to open the door to the General’s sitting room. Edward nodded at him, smiling. He was scarce more than a boy out of short coats, and yet, he was proving to be eager and not unintelligent. When General Clinton finally assumed command, he would see to the boy’s eagerness, poor lad.
Edward squinted while his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlit room. The long curtains were opened wide to the morning sun, which was enough to warm the room pleasantly.
“Good morning, sir.” Edward saluted General Howe smartly. “I received your message.”
General Howe rose from his chair and Edward saw that the man whose mercurial humors left many of his officers quaking in their boots appeared jovial today. Indeed, a deep smile promptly indented his heavily jowled cheeks.
“I have a surprise for you, my boy.” Again that beaming smile.
“You have changed your campaign plans, sir?”
General Howe’s smile disappeared. “That discussion, Captain, is closed. Accustom yourself, sir, to remaining in New York. You and Major Andre will have the important assignment of keeping General Clinton within the ropes, so to speak, when we finally have a change in command. No,” he continued, his good humor restored, “I asked you here for a very different reason. Captain Crowley, allow me to introduce you to Captain Lord Delford, one of my finest officers.”
Edward turned to see a man emerge from the far corner of the large sitting room. He was of the general’s age, and heavyset like him, but dressed in a naval officer’s ornate blue and white uniform.
Somewhat surprised, Edward extended his hand. “My pleasure, Captain Crowley.” He turned again to General Howe, his brows raised in question.
“Captain Crowley has just arrived from Boston, early this morning, on his majesty’s frigate, The York.”
Edward sensed that he was being studied closely, and he stiffened.
“You are Viscount Delford?”
Captain Crowley’s deep voice was oddly assessing. Edward’s gaze was locked by the man’s cold gray eyes.
“I have that honor, sir.”
What the devil is this about, he wondered, shifting his weight to his sound leg.
“I believe, my lord,” Captain Crowley said, his gaze flickering briefly toward General Howe, “that you will indeed be pleased at the surprise General Howe spoke about.”
“Surprise, sir?”
“Aye, my lord. And I have personally escorted her from Genoa.”
Edward thought the world, or the captain, had taken a faulty turn.
A door opened at the far end of the sitting room.
“Your wife, my lord, returned to you safe and sound.”
“My what?”