Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the CarolinasKennedy, Sara Beaumont
History
Joscelyn Cheshire: A Story of Revolutionary Days in the Carolinas
Kennedy, Sara Beaumont
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
But it was not until August that the climax came. Then Gates, smarting
with the defeat at Camden, halted the remnant of his flying army,
scarcely a thousand strong, at the town on the Eno, to rest and sum up
the full measure of the disaster that had befallen him. During the short
time that he remained, the town was in a ferment. The way to the camp
was thronged with sympathizers; kitchen chimneys smoked with the extra
cooking, and in every house was a banquet of the best that could be had.
Only in the Cheshire house was there no preparation, nor yet upon the
door was there the blue and buff cockade that marked the others. There
were not lacking those who called official attention to this fact, and
so many comments and criticisms crept about among the soldiers that a
couple of young officers, bent on a frolic and thinking to teach this
wilful Joscelyn a needed lesson, stopped upon her porch and sent word
that they would speak with her. And presently she came down to them,
dressed fit to dance in a queen's minuet in silver brocade over a
scarlet petticoat, the round whiteness of her neck and arms shining
through foamy lace, a red rose in her powdered hair, and a black patch
near the corner of her mouth giving a saucy emphasis to her lips. As she
stepped out of the door, the young fellows who had been lounging on the
porch rail instantly sprang up and uncovered at the sight of so much
beauty and dignity. They had thought to find a country maid, mayhap a
woman past her youth; and instead, this glowing creature stood before
them.
"What is your pleasure, gentlemen?" she asked; but the stiff courtesy of
her question was belied by the laugh in her eyes.
They exchanged uneasy glances, and one took a step toward the porch
exit; but the other, who was to be spokesman, summing up resolution,
stammered and answered:--
"We found no cockade of the nation's colours on your door, and did but
stop to ask the reason."
"Your general sent you?"
"No, no; we were but passing, and came of our own accord."
"Oh, a friendly visit, with no official significance? I pray you present
each other," and she courtesied at each name. "And now let us go into
the parlour and see what can be done for your entertainment."
And in the parlour she gave them the best chairs, and set herself with
much graciousness of manner to entertain them, plying them with delicate
compliments, singing her Tory ballads with such laughing abandon that in
the same spirit of fun they applauded her, thinking not a moment of the
songs, but of the singer. Later on she brewed them a cup of tea, telling
them it was a love potion to win a fair one's favour; and although they
began by protesting vehemently, yet they ended by drinking it, for she
first put her own lips to the cups, and then dared them with her eyes.
After that they would scarcely have hesitated at hemlock. At the end of
an hour she dismissed them, each with a red rose in his coat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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