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The American nation was born out of a ferocious war with its mother country. Read a tale of one couple's journey to safety, happiness, love and a life in a new nation.
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The American colonies have been at war with their mother country for five interminable years. Frustrated by their inability to subdue the conflict in the North, the British decide to bring the war south. Major Richard Berkeley stands ready to give his life to stop them.
Located north of Charlestowne on the banks of the Ashley River, Oakhurst, Richard’s plantation, has already become the tip of his spear. His greatest treasure, his beautiful wife Alexandra, is the key to planning and implementation of a complex & perilous mission. While he is away fighting the war, she will manage the plantation, supply his troops, and persuade not only the British, but also her Tory neighbors to believe a brazen lie—that she and Richard are loyal subjects of the British crown. She is grace personified—bred from untold generations of England’s royalty and highest nobility. Nobody would doubt her sincerity. But a dangerous few suspect treason—and one of them will stop at nothing to discover their secret.
Sh-sh-sh . . . . Please enjoy a sneak peak at the book.
CHAPTER ONE
Monday, 10 April 1780, one hour after dawn
Richard Berkeley sat among his lieutenants sipping hot coffee and scraping the remains of his breakfast from a tin plate he held in his hand. Encamped with Colonel Daniel Morgan on the south bank of the Santee River since late February, he had trained his companies to fight as a single coherent unit of mounted infantry. They were now as ready as they would ever be to fight as part of a larger regiment. The British bombardment of Charlestowne had finally begun ten days ago. This morning, dispatch riders began arriving at their camp at dawn, and he’d read many of the messages they carried.
A private approached and cleared his throat. “Major Berkeley, Colonel Morgan sends his compliments and instructs you and his other senior officers to attend him in ten minutes.”
“Thank you, Private. Please tender my respect to the colonel and inform him I’ll be there directly.”
He tossed back the remains of the roasted brew and handed his empty cup and plate to Barnes, his orderly, rose to his feet and headed toward the colonel’s tent.
Once they’d assembled, the colonel’s adjutant handed out packets of orders. Richard took a quick glance. He would report to Colonel Peter Horry at Monck’s Corners in four days.
“Gentlemen, I’ve called you together to give you your orders. In summary, you’re being dispersed. As you know, after five long years of war, the British have finally moved south. Georgia is subdued, at least for the moment, and it looks like we’re next. They’re still bombarding Charlestowne. You’ll join other units and harass the British flank as they move out of the city and into the colony. A British infantry column pushed through South Carolina’s southwest border and is headed toward the city. We expect to see them inside of five days.” Colonel Morgan’s voice rose and the grave circumstance facing the militia captured Richard’s attention. “The British are here, gentlemen. Gather your men and make your departures this morning. Stay to the woods. You’ll take every precaution to remain out of sight. Like phantoms, we’ll haunt their waking nightmares. Do not engage the enemy unless you have no other choice. Are we clear?”
Like the clang of a heavy brass bell, the officers’ voices tolled, “Yes Sir!” nearly in unison.
“Godspeed, gentlemen. My prayers go with you.”
Richard strode to his company’s campsite, his shoulders squared. The first man he saw was Mordecai Braithwaite. “Sergeant Major, give my compliments to the lieutenants and direct them to attend me—immediately, if they would be so good.”
Three young officers ran toward him and stood at attention. Richard cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, make your men ready to depart. We leave this morning, heading for Oakhurst. In four days we report to Colonel Horry at Monck’s Corners, under General Isaac Huger’s command. We’ll provide a little discomfort for a column of British infantry headed toward them.”
Within less than an hour, three mule-pulled wagons, fifty men and three officers rode behind Richard out of Colonel Morgan’s camp. Shadowed woods, a swamp and narrow deer trails slowed their progress, but they made good time nonetheless. They crossed the Cooper River at a remote ford and headed across the peninsula toward Oakhurst, Richard’s plantation on the west bank of the Ashley River. The plantation—and his beautiful wife Alexandra—were key to his logistical planning. Logistics were only part of the reason he wanted to take a brief stop there. His beloved wife was his dearest treasure, and he could hardly wait to hold her in his arms again.
The moment had finally arrived, and years of preparation and training would finally pay off—or not. He had his orders and a mission to fulfill.
*~*~*~*
10 April 1780, early morning
Alexandra was wrapped in Richard’s strong arms as dawn broke and the clock on the mantle chimed the early hour. Her eyelids sliding open reluctantly, she sighed, hating to leave her lover’s arms—but his presence in their big bed was merely the stuff of her night’s dreams. A cool breeze stirred the filmy curtains covering the windows, and a heady fragrance wafted through from the gardens not far across the lawn.
Though the hour was early, she had responsibilities, and work to do to achieve her goal for the day. She washed and dressed, paying close attention to her toilette, as usual. The British were coming to Charlestowne, and Alexandra never knew . . . .
Mariette, her personal maid, finished, and Alexandra inspected the results. Long strands of fiery, sun-kissed curls had been pinned into a simple coiffure and the gown Mariette had garbed her in was a cornflower blue silk morning gown with a square neckline. A silky white kerchief graced its neckline. Lace cuffs pinned on her sleeves trailed below her waist as she lowered her arms. Mariette had tied a wide blue velvet ribbon about her still tiny waist. Her mother’s pearl drop earrings and the brooch Richard had given her on their first Christmas, the day before their marriage, were her only jewelry. Perfect. She’d made careful plans, but she never really knew what each day would bring. No matter what challenges lay ahead to complicate her hours, Alexandra was dressed to meet them.
The first item on her agenda was to visit her twin daughters’ schoolroom and set them to work on their studies for the day. When she finished, she kissed each one on top of her head, took Oakhurst’s famed circular staircase down two flights to the first floor.
“Good morning, Mrs. Berkeley. It looks like we’re in for a good day today.” Mr. Nathaniel Blake, Richard’s capable and trusted steward met her, having been invited to breakfast before their meeting that morning.
“Good morning, Mr. Blake. I agree. The day is lovely.”
Jeremiah, Oakhurst’s butler, met them at the breakfast room doorway and pulled a chair out for Alexandra. “It’s a mighty fine day today, Miz Alexandra.” She loved his voice, rich and warm as a steaming cup of the best Belgian chocolate on a crisp winter morning. He greeted her with a cheerful smile. He always had. His dark skin contrasted sharply with his now silvery hair and bright white teeth.
“Thank you, Jeremiah. Mr. Blake and I had just mentioned it.” Steam wafted from the cup of fragrant Assam tea he set beside her.
Turning, he poured coffee into a large mug for Mr. Blake. “It surely smells good in here. Will you thank Miss Ruth for this fine breakfast, Jeremiah?”
Miss Ruth was queen of Oakhurst’s kitchens. She had been here since before Oakhurst’s birth—since Lord Edward Campbell, Alexandra’s father, had first arrived in Charlestowne and purchased his land. Her husband, Ezra, was the designer and architect of Oakhurst’s famed gardens. A lover of plants, he was also its head gardener. To Alexandra’s mind, his title was capitalized.
“I will, suh. I’m certain she’ll be pleased to receive your compliment.”
After Jeremiah left the room, Mr. Blake swallowed a sip of his coffee and asked, “Have there been any problems with the women from the sawmill, Mrs. Berkeley? We had to place the new cabins pretty near them.”
The sawmill’s wives had moved into cottages built not far from the little village where Oakhurst’s black population lived—but not among them. Sawmill lumber had been used to build more cottages to accommodate the slaves brought down from Broad Oaks, Richard’s plantation on the Santee River. Ezra had put some of his gardeners to work, landscaping the new cottages, but he needed help. Ezra had but five elderly men to assist.
“Hannah Jenkins reported no conflicts with the new arrivals.” Hannah was the wife of the Berkeley Mill’s foreman. “She also told me the Broad Oaks men and women remain to themselves—though everyone’s children play together. They must not be allowed to isolate themselves from life here at Oakhurst.
“We must assign the men work in the fields, in one of the barns, or in one of the shops, wherever their talents and skills lie, no matter that there may not yet be a full day’s work. We will give the women jobs in the kitchen gardens, the weaver’s shop, the kitchens, or the house. As with the men, I must learn where each woman’s ability lies. I want them to be, not merely comfortable here, but also happy.”
Mr. Blake shook his head. “Do you have any clue how unique you are, Mrs. Berkeley? I’d lay odds on a bet that there isn’t another mistress of a great plantation anywhere in the Southern colonies with any concern at all for their darkies.”
“They are not mine, Mr. Blake. They belong to nobody but themselves. Rather, they are my friends…though, some are friends I have not yet made. Nor are they darkies, Sir. Their skin color is immaterial to me…and certainly to Mr. Berkeley.
“Nevertheless, we must simply not allow the newcomers to isolate themselves. What does Broad Oaks overseer relate?”
“Nothing’s amiss. Everyone’s getting settled in—pretty much what Mrs. Jenkins states.”
In fear of their lives, people had poured into Oakhurst from Broad Oaks, Richard’s plantation along the Santee River. After they finished eating, Alexandra and Mr. Blake adjourned to the study.
Alexandra entered the room and took Richard’s chair behind the great oak desk, and Mr. Blake took the chair opposite. She tried to smile, but she understood how importunate her next words would sound. “Oakhurst’s population is about to increase once more, I fear. As you know, my father-in-law stripped Actium, his plantation on John’s Island, of every valuable belonging. Needless to say, his slaves were among those commodities. There is no room for them in the slave quarters at Allston Hall. We must find accommodations for them here. Can you find more room for cabins near those you built for Broad Oaks’ slaves, Sir?”
“Of course, Mrs. Berkeley. We have plenty of supplies, fortunately. We’ll rely upon a couple of common wells and several latrines rather than the septic system, though. There are no extra people to teach them how to maintain one or to do it for them instead. Rather than glass windows, we’ll cover them with screening and put shutters on the outsides like we did on the ones for the Broad Oaks cabins. Glass is too expensive. I hate to say it, ma’am, but they’re slaves and have no stake in the successful operation of this plantation. We can’t take a chance that one of them will speak to anyone at all from outside and lay us open for attack from the British.”
Alexandra sighed. “Yes, we have discussed this in the past and you are quite correct. My husband would agree. It takes enough time as it is to visit everyone and discover small problems before they become big ones.”
He nodded and opened the lid of the box that had become a permanent fixture on his side of the desk, pulled out a sharpened quill and dipped the tip into a bottle of ink he opened. The list he made grew much longer, the longer they spoke. When he finished, he glanced at her with a droll half-grin. “Is there anyone else arriving you can think of?”
Alexandra cleared her throat. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I sent a letter down to Charlestowne to ask our butler there to pack everyone up and escort them up here to Oakhurst. Fortunately, they are all house servants and will not require cottages outside the original Oakhurst village. They will live with their parents for a time until we can move them into vacant cottages in the little village.”
“Isn’t your butler down there one of Jeremiah’s and Aunt Mary’s sons?”
“Yes, he is. Elijah is his name. His wife is Hester Sue, Miss Ruth’s oldest daughter. She is our housekeeper there. I am pleased to say they are all sons and daughters of Oakhurst.” In fact, Alexandra was very pleased to say so. She knew how much their parents missed them and was happy for a reason to reunite them.
“Have you heard from Mr. Berkeley recently? Any chance he’ll be home sometime soon?”
Alexandra sighed and dropped her gaze to her folded hands before lifting it again. “I received a brief letter from him last week. The wagoner he sent from their camp brought it when he came down for supplies. I have no idea when we shall next see him, though.” Except in my dreams.
“Well, I’ll be happy to see him, whenever he returns. I’d like to make a report of all our dealings while he’s been away.”
Alexandra lifted an eyebrow, surprised. “He trusts you, Nathaniel, never fear. Just as I do.”
“Well then,” he said, “have we finished our day’s business?”
“I believe so. I have nothing else. Will you join me in the small dining room for dinner at two o’clock?” Alexandra wanted to show him a small measure of the value she placed on his services. He was the younger son of a planter in Dorchester, educated and a gentleman. She could not imagine what they would have done without his unique talents.
“Thank you, Mrs. Berkeley. I accept your kind offer.”
The clopping of a large number of horses’ hooves trotting up the front brick drive disturbed the quiet in the room. Nathaniel’s face swiveled toward Alexandra. “Are you expecting visitors today, ma’am?”
She rose from her chair, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “None that I am aware of, Mr. Blake.” Have the British finally come to Oakhurst? “Please excuse me, Sir. I must discover who is arriving and greet my guests.”
She heaved a deep breath and added a private thought. No matter who comes, dear God, if it is not too much to ask of you, please stand with me while I welcome them—or send them on their way.
Available NOW on Amazon Kindle!
Located north of Charlestowne on the banks of the Ashley River, Oakhurst, Richard’s plantation, has already become the tip of his spear. His greatest treasure, his beautiful wife Alexandra, is the key to planning and implementation of a complex & perilous mission. While he is away fighting the war, she will manage the plantation, supply his troops, and persuade not only the British, but also her Tory neighbors to believe a brazen lie—that she and Richard are loyal subjects of the British crown. She is grace personified—bred from untold generations of England’s royalty and highest nobility. Nobody would doubt her sincerity. But a dangerous few suspect treason—and one of them will stop at nothing to discover their secret.
Sh-sh-sh . . . . Please enjoy a sneak peak at the book.
CHAPTER ONE
Monday, 10 April 1780, one hour after dawn
Richard Berkeley sat among his lieutenants sipping hot coffee and scraping the remains of his breakfast from a tin plate he held in his hand. Encamped with Colonel Daniel Morgan on the south bank of the Santee River since late February, he had trained his companies to fight as a single coherent unit of mounted infantry. They were now as ready as they would ever be to fight as part of a larger regiment. The British bombardment of Charlestowne had finally begun ten days ago. This morning, dispatch riders began arriving at their camp at dawn, and he’d read many of the messages they carried.
A private approached and cleared his throat. “Major Berkeley, Colonel Morgan sends his compliments and instructs you and his other senior officers to attend him in ten minutes.”
“Thank you, Private. Please tender my respect to the colonel and inform him I’ll be there directly.”
He tossed back the remains of the roasted brew and handed his empty cup and plate to Barnes, his orderly, rose to his feet and headed toward the colonel’s tent.
Once they’d assembled, the colonel’s adjutant handed out packets of orders. Richard took a quick glance. He would report to Colonel Peter Horry at Monck’s Corners in four days.
“Gentlemen, I’ve called you together to give you your orders. In summary, you’re being dispersed. As you know, after five long years of war, the British have finally moved south. Georgia is subdued, at least for the moment, and it looks like we’re next. They’re still bombarding Charlestowne. You’ll join other units and harass the British flank as they move out of the city and into the colony. A British infantry column pushed through South Carolina’s southwest border and is headed toward the city. We expect to see them inside of five days.” Colonel Morgan’s voice rose and the grave circumstance facing the militia captured Richard’s attention. “The British are here, gentlemen. Gather your men and make your departures this morning. Stay to the woods. You’ll take every precaution to remain out of sight. Like phantoms, we’ll haunt their waking nightmares. Do not engage the enemy unless you have no other choice. Are we clear?”
Like the clang of a heavy brass bell, the officers’ voices tolled, “Yes Sir!” nearly in unison.
“Godspeed, gentlemen. My prayers go with you.”
Richard strode to his company’s campsite, his shoulders squared. The first man he saw was Mordecai Braithwaite. “Sergeant Major, give my compliments to the lieutenants and direct them to attend me—immediately, if they would be so good.”
Three young officers ran toward him and stood at attention. Richard cleared his throat. “Gentlemen, make your men ready to depart. We leave this morning, heading for Oakhurst. In four days we report to Colonel Horry at Monck’s Corners, under General Isaac Huger’s command. We’ll provide a little discomfort for a column of British infantry headed toward them.”
Within less than an hour, three mule-pulled wagons, fifty men and three officers rode behind Richard out of Colonel Morgan’s camp. Shadowed woods, a swamp and narrow deer trails slowed their progress, but they made good time nonetheless. They crossed the Cooper River at a remote ford and headed across the peninsula toward Oakhurst, Richard’s plantation on the west bank of the Ashley River. The plantation—and his beautiful wife Alexandra—were key to his logistical planning. Logistics were only part of the reason he wanted to take a brief stop there. His beloved wife was his dearest treasure, and he could hardly wait to hold her in his arms again.
The moment had finally arrived, and years of preparation and training would finally pay off—or not. He had his orders and a mission to fulfill.
*~*~*~*
10 April 1780, early morning
Alexandra was wrapped in Richard’s strong arms as dawn broke and the clock on the mantle chimed the early hour. Her eyelids sliding open reluctantly, she sighed, hating to leave her lover’s arms—but his presence in their big bed was merely the stuff of her night’s dreams. A cool breeze stirred the filmy curtains covering the windows, and a heady fragrance wafted through from the gardens not far across the lawn.
Though the hour was early, she had responsibilities, and work to do to achieve her goal for the day. She washed and dressed, paying close attention to her toilette, as usual. The British were coming to Charlestowne, and Alexandra never knew . . . .
Mariette, her personal maid, finished, and Alexandra inspected the results. Long strands of fiery, sun-kissed curls had been pinned into a simple coiffure and the gown Mariette had garbed her in was a cornflower blue silk morning gown with a square neckline. A silky white kerchief graced its neckline. Lace cuffs pinned on her sleeves trailed below her waist as she lowered her arms. Mariette had tied a wide blue velvet ribbon about her still tiny waist. Her mother’s pearl drop earrings and the brooch Richard had given her on their first Christmas, the day before their marriage, were her only jewelry. Perfect. She’d made careful plans, but she never really knew what each day would bring. No matter what challenges lay ahead to complicate her hours, Alexandra was dressed to meet them.
The first item on her agenda was to visit her twin daughters’ schoolroom and set them to work on their studies for the day. When she finished, she kissed each one on top of her head, took Oakhurst’s famed circular staircase down two flights to the first floor.
“Good morning, Mrs. Berkeley. It looks like we’re in for a good day today.” Mr. Nathaniel Blake, Richard’s capable and trusted steward met her, having been invited to breakfast before their meeting that morning.
“Good morning, Mr. Blake. I agree. The day is lovely.”
Jeremiah, Oakhurst’s butler, met them at the breakfast room doorway and pulled a chair out for Alexandra. “It’s a mighty fine day today, Miz Alexandra.” She loved his voice, rich and warm as a steaming cup of the best Belgian chocolate on a crisp winter morning. He greeted her with a cheerful smile. He always had. His dark skin contrasted sharply with his now silvery hair and bright white teeth.
“Thank you, Jeremiah. Mr. Blake and I had just mentioned it.” Steam wafted from the cup of fragrant Assam tea he set beside her.
Turning, he poured coffee into a large mug for Mr. Blake. “It surely smells good in here. Will you thank Miss Ruth for this fine breakfast, Jeremiah?”
Miss Ruth was queen of Oakhurst’s kitchens. She had been here since before Oakhurst’s birth—since Lord Edward Campbell, Alexandra’s father, had first arrived in Charlestowne and purchased his land. Her husband, Ezra, was the designer and architect of Oakhurst’s famed gardens. A lover of plants, he was also its head gardener. To Alexandra’s mind, his title was capitalized.
“I will, suh. I’m certain she’ll be pleased to receive your compliment.”
After Jeremiah left the room, Mr. Blake swallowed a sip of his coffee and asked, “Have there been any problems with the women from the sawmill, Mrs. Berkeley? We had to place the new cabins pretty near them.”
The sawmill’s wives had moved into cottages built not far from the little village where Oakhurst’s black population lived—but not among them. Sawmill lumber had been used to build more cottages to accommodate the slaves brought down from Broad Oaks, Richard’s plantation on the Santee River. Ezra had put some of his gardeners to work, landscaping the new cottages, but he needed help. Ezra had but five elderly men to assist.
“Hannah Jenkins reported no conflicts with the new arrivals.” Hannah was the wife of the Berkeley Mill’s foreman. “She also told me the Broad Oaks men and women remain to themselves—though everyone’s children play together. They must not be allowed to isolate themselves from life here at Oakhurst.
“We must assign the men work in the fields, in one of the barns, or in one of the shops, wherever their talents and skills lie, no matter that there may not yet be a full day’s work. We will give the women jobs in the kitchen gardens, the weaver’s shop, the kitchens, or the house. As with the men, I must learn where each woman’s ability lies. I want them to be, not merely comfortable here, but also happy.”
Mr. Blake shook his head. “Do you have any clue how unique you are, Mrs. Berkeley? I’d lay odds on a bet that there isn’t another mistress of a great plantation anywhere in the Southern colonies with any concern at all for their darkies.”
“They are not mine, Mr. Blake. They belong to nobody but themselves. Rather, they are my friends…though, some are friends I have not yet made. Nor are they darkies, Sir. Their skin color is immaterial to me…and certainly to Mr. Berkeley.
“Nevertheless, we must simply not allow the newcomers to isolate themselves. What does Broad Oaks overseer relate?”
“Nothing’s amiss. Everyone’s getting settled in—pretty much what Mrs. Jenkins states.”
In fear of their lives, people had poured into Oakhurst from Broad Oaks, Richard’s plantation along the Santee River. After they finished eating, Alexandra and Mr. Blake adjourned to the study.
Alexandra entered the room and took Richard’s chair behind the great oak desk, and Mr. Blake took the chair opposite. She tried to smile, but she understood how importunate her next words would sound. “Oakhurst’s population is about to increase once more, I fear. As you know, my father-in-law stripped Actium, his plantation on John’s Island, of every valuable belonging. Needless to say, his slaves were among those commodities. There is no room for them in the slave quarters at Allston Hall. We must find accommodations for them here. Can you find more room for cabins near those you built for Broad Oaks’ slaves, Sir?”
“Of course, Mrs. Berkeley. We have plenty of supplies, fortunately. We’ll rely upon a couple of common wells and several latrines rather than the septic system, though. There are no extra people to teach them how to maintain one or to do it for them instead. Rather than glass windows, we’ll cover them with screening and put shutters on the outsides like we did on the ones for the Broad Oaks cabins. Glass is too expensive. I hate to say it, ma’am, but they’re slaves and have no stake in the successful operation of this plantation. We can’t take a chance that one of them will speak to anyone at all from outside and lay us open for attack from the British.”
Alexandra sighed. “Yes, we have discussed this in the past and you are quite correct. My husband would agree. It takes enough time as it is to visit everyone and discover small problems before they become big ones.”
He nodded and opened the lid of the box that had become a permanent fixture on his side of the desk, pulled out a sharpened quill and dipped the tip into a bottle of ink he opened. The list he made grew much longer, the longer they spoke. When he finished, he glanced at her with a droll half-grin. “Is there anyone else arriving you can think of?”
Alexandra cleared her throat. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I sent a letter down to Charlestowne to ask our butler there to pack everyone up and escort them up here to Oakhurst. Fortunately, they are all house servants and will not require cottages outside the original Oakhurst village. They will live with their parents for a time until we can move them into vacant cottages in the little village.”
“Isn’t your butler down there one of Jeremiah’s and Aunt Mary’s sons?”
“Yes, he is. Elijah is his name. His wife is Hester Sue, Miss Ruth’s oldest daughter. She is our housekeeper there. I am pleased to say they are all sons and daughters of Oakhurst.” In fact, Alexandra was very pleased to say so. She knew how much their parents missed them and was happy for a reason to reunite them.
“Have you heard from Mr. Berkeley recently? Any chance he’ll be home sometime soon?”
Alexandra sighed and dropped her gaze to her folded hands before lifting it again. “I received a brief letter from him last week. The wagoner he sent from their camp brought it when he came down for supplies. I have no idea when we shall next see him, though.” Except in my dreams.
“Well, I’ll be happy to see him, whenever he returns. I’d like to make a report of all our dealings while he’s been away.”
Alexandra lifted an eyebrow, surprised. “He trusts you, Nathaniel, never fear. Just as I do.”
“Well then,” he said, “have we finished our day’s business?”
“I believe so. I have nothing else. Will you join me in the small dining room for dinner at two o’clock?” Alexandra wanted to show him a small measure of the value she placed on his services. He was the younger son of a planter in Dorchester, educated and a gentleman. She could not imagine what they would have done without his unique talents.
“Thank you, Mrs. Berkeley. I accept your kind offer.”
The clopping of a large number of horses’ hooves trotting up the front brick drive disturbed the quiet in the room. Nathaniel’s face swiveled toward Alexandra. “Are you expecting visitors today, ma’am?”
She rose from her chair, straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “None that I am aware of, Mr. Blake.” Have the British finally come to Oakhurst? “Please excuse me, Sir. I must discover who is arriving and greet my guests.”
She heaved a deep breath and added a private thought. No matter who comes, dear God, if it is not too much to ask of you, please stand with me while I welcome them—or send them on their way.
Available NOW on Amazon Kindle!