A brisk wind blew off the water chilling one to the bone. Lydia tightened her cloak against her body as she climbed the hill toward Setauket's former church, turned barracks for the English army. Freshly made earthworks had been erected around the army's base. This was Caleb Brewster's doing. Abraham and Caleb had decided for her that she would not be participating in helping Caleb flee Setauket.

They had made quite a scene, which had prompted Major Hewlett to believe his paranoia that the Rebels were planning on attacking Setauket. Lydia could not help but feel that had she been allowed to participate in the plan to sneak Caleb out, this whole situation could have been avoided. But she hadn't. Although, Lydia had a sneaking suspicion that Caleb not allowing her to help went beyond the fact she was a woman and had a something to do with the fact that she was engaged to Major Andre. She just hoped that he would keep his promise to bring Ben home to her.

But the reason for their current visit was a memorial for Thomas, Lydia's brother. Thomas, the eldest of the Woodhull children, had died three years prior. He had been a captain in the 16th regiment of the King's militia. He had died performing his duty, attempting to stifle a riot at King's College where Abraham had been studying the law. Lydia had not been told much regarding her brother's death. She always felt that there was more to his death, that something was being kept secret from her; but Lydia knew better than to question it.

Lydia, Mary who was carrying young Thomas, Abe, and Richard came to a stop in front of their beloved Thomas' gravestone. Lydia tried to choke back a sob. She missed her brother. Despite their age difference, Thomas had always been her favourite brother. But what she loved most about Thomas was that while he never directly spoke the words out loud, she knew that in his own way, he approved of Ben. Thomas had been the first one to learn of her correspondence with Ben, having intercepted one of their letters. He never told their father of the letters. In fact, the only thing he really said about them to Lydia was that he knew it would happen eventually. And now, Lydia could not help but smile at that very fact.

After a tear slipped from her eyes, Lydia knelt down and placed a bouquet of flowers on her brother's grave. She blinked back a few more tears before she stood up and clutched her cloak a little tighter as her father began to speak. "I thought I would read a verse from Proverbs, his favourite."

"He preferred the one from Galatians," Lydia and Abraham responded simultaneously. The siblings met each other's gaze. Things had once again been tense between them. Their father looked between them, expecting them to start bickering; but Lydia knew better than to make a scene in public. If she did, she would be the one chastised later, not Abraham.

Richard just nodded his head. "You knew him better," he said. Lydia noticed that he had not made mention of which one of them knew him better. Instead, he flipped the pages in his Bible to Galatians and began to read.

Lydia had a hard time concentrating on the words her father spoke. Instead, she watched the soldiers through veiled eyes. The soldiers who had been present at Caleb's escape from Setauket. The soldiers who were being punished for allowing him to escape. One of those soldiers being Ensign Baker. Lydia never wished him ill. She knew him to be a kind, if somewhat aloof, man. She didn't wish to see him being whipped nor to hear him groaning in pain. War was barbaric and she hated it.

While she understood the necessity, she wished there was some other way to deal with the situation. Not only for Ensign Baker's sake, but also for Ben's. If this could happen to Ensign Baker, she knew Ben would endure much worse at the hands of the British. She silently said a prayer for him before she was able to bring her thoughts back to Thomas's memorial.

Mary reached over and gently squeezed Lydia's hand before she set her own bouquet of flowers on Thomas's grave. Lydia's heart ached for Mary. Mary, who was supposed to be wed to Thomas, but was now married to Abraham. Honestly, Lydia found Mary more of a match for Thomas. She would have made him a sweet wife and he would have made her very happy. But that was not what God had planned. And while Lydia knew she was supposed to trust in God's plan, she did not understand the plan he had for Mary and Abraham.

"Before I met Thomas," Mary started as she stood upright. "I was uncertain about being engaged to a stranger." She cast Lydia a knowing glance. Lydia knew that Mary was trying to comfort her about her engagement to John Andre. She had cried a few tears when she told Mary what had transpired in York City. Mary then smiled softly before she continued. "But the first thing he told me about was his family and how you would welcome me."

Mary made eye contact with Richard. "He seemed a very good son." Richard nodded in agreement.

"And a better brother," Abraham added.

"Aye," Lydia agreed. Abe knew that she had always preferred Thomas to him. Father would usually say that it was because Lydia and Abe were too close in age. Lydia knew better. While Abe began to prattle on about one his memories of Thomas, Lydia couldn't help but think of a memory of her own.

~*~Summer 1766~*~

Lydia sat at the pianoforte under Widow Browne's watchful eye. She plunked a wrong key and within seconds, Widow Browne was ready to pounce and reprimand her. While Lydia appreciated music, she much preferred singing to playing. Occasionally, when Lydia helped Aberdeen in the kitchen, they would sing together, even though Widow Browne frowned upon such behavior. Lydia was not sure why. Aberdeen had a beautiful singing voice and taught her many songs. But Widow Browne insisted that it wasn't ladylike to repeat such songs, even though Lydia did not see the harm in such songs.

Frustratedly, Lydia repeated the same line of music for the twelfth time when she heard the door open and close. While she knew she was not to wish anyone ill, she wished Father's head hurt and that he would demand she cease practicing. Lydia played a note wrong and Widow Browne rapped Lydia's knuckles with her scolding rod. Bringing her knuckles to her mouth, she sucked on them to soothe the pain.

"Again, Lydia," Widow Browne said. But Lydia was surprised to find the woman's tone much more gentle. She had a slight smile on her face. Lydia could never remember in all her lessons seeing Widow Browne smile. Not once. She wanted to turn to see at what Widow Browne was smiling, but she knew that her knuckles would be rapped if she did. Lydia just hoped it was not her father. She did not with the widow for a mother. Missus Tallmadge was mother enough for her.

Lydia began to play once again when a pair of hands covered her eyes. She stopped playing and grinned. There was only one person who did that. "Thomas!" Lydia squealed as she quickly turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. She hung there as Thomas laughed and embraced his little sister.

"I take it you missed me," Thomas teased. He picked his little sister up from the bench and swung her around like she was nothing more than a rag doll. Lydia laughed with glee. Even Widow Browne cracked a smile at the interaction. After several twirls, Thomas set Lydia back down on the back. "Please excuse the interruption, Widow Browne," Thomas directed toward Lydia's teacher.

Thomas then looked down at Lydia. "Perhaps we shall play a duet to make up for my poor manners?" Lydia nodded her head enthusiastically. Thomas motioned for her to move over on the bench. She did as she was told. One of the only times Lydia enjoyed playing the pianoforte was when Thomas played with her. "What shall we play then? Any suggestions, Widow Browne?"

Widow Browne shuffled through a few pieces before she set one on the pianoforte. Thomas smiled at his sister and nudged her. "Ah, we know this one. Don't we, Lyddie?" Lydia nodded her head. The Woodhull siblings began to play together, neither of them aware of Abraham watching them in jealousy from the window.

The song was played so well that Widow Browne dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. "It appears Miss Lydia simply needed some proper motivation to play properly." Lydia blushed. That was likely the closest Lydia would ever get to a compliment from Widow Browne. Much to Lydia's surprise, Widow Browne ended their lessons for the day. Lydia was so thankful knew where it was going and still almost screamed she could have hugged Widow Browne, but she refrained knowing better than to do so.

Once Widow Browne was out of the house, Lydia whispered to Thomas, "I'm quite thankful you've helped me rid myself of her."

"Lydia, you mustn't talk so," Thomas scolded before looking over his shoulder. He then looked back at Lydia. "But you are welcome. Trust me, I know the torture that is lessons with Widow Browne." Thomas smiled at his sister, but Lydia shook her head.

"You only had her for music lessons. You did not have to learn to be a lady."

Thomas laughed. "No, and thank the good Lord for that." He gently touched his sister's button nose and smiled. "You remind me of her, you know." Lydia's brow furrowed. "Of mother. You never got the chance to know her, but she would have loved you, Lydia." Lydia trusted that he was being truthful. He probably knew their mother best. Thomas tugged one of Lydia's curls. "Let us go for a walk, sister. Perhaps we will find Abraham."

Secretly, Lydia hoped they would not find Abe, but she would endure spending time with him if it meant getting to be with Thomas.

~*~ November 1776~*~

After the Woodhull family had finished Thomas's memorial, Major Hewlett approached them. He shook Richard and Abraham's hands before he bowed toward Lydia and Mary. "Miss Woodhull, might I again offer my congratulations on your engagement with Major Andre. A fine match. A fine match indeed."

Lydia blushed, unsure of how to respond. Hewlett's tone was a little louder than usual. Ensign Baker winced at the mention of her engagement, despite not having been struck. It was clear this was more of a punishment of Ensign Baker then it was a hearty congratulations. But Lydia still thanked him anyway. She still had appearances to keep up no matter how much of a sham the engagement truly was.

"Oh, before I forget, Miss Woodhull. I have a letter for you from York City, sent by special courier." Hewlett grinned as he handed the letter over to her. "I do believe it is from Major Andre."

She took the letter from him and shoved it in her right pocket, which was under her many layers of petticoats. "Now, if you'll excuse me Miss Woodhull, Missus Woodhull, and Abraham, but I have an important matter I must discuss with the magistrate immediately." Judge Woodhull followed Hewlett back into what had once been the church.

Mary picked up her son and looked at Abraham and Lydia. "We could use a bit more flour for Lydia's upcoming birthday celebration." Mary kissed her son's head before she smiled at Lydia and then looked at her husband.

Abraham nodded his head. "But put it on Father's account. She still is in his care...for now."

Mary giggled. "Yes, for now; but soon she will be married to a handsome major if all the reports I've heard are accurate." Mary nudged Lydia. Lydia just smiled. She hated being reminded of Andre. While she found him to be a charming man from their interactions, she knew she could never love him. Not the way she loved Benj.

Lydia pulled her cloak a little tighter when Mary asked if she would like to her join her in town. "I appreciate the offer, Mary, but I think I might stare here a little longer. I'm in need of a good visit." Mary nodded her head, she understood why Lydia wanted to stay. Abraham, on the other hand, did not. He simply looked at his sister quizzically. So, Mary had him walk her to town so that Lydia might have at least a few moments of solace.

She quietly walked by the headstones until she can to the one that she wished to visit. Lydia placed her hand on the stone. "Hello, Mother," she whispered before she knelt in front of the stone. WIth her fingers, she traced the name on the stone: Susannah Tallmadge. Lydia had never known her mother, so Ben's mother had always been more of a maternal figure to her.. "I have always wanted to call you that, Mother. I hope you do not mind that I do so now. I always thought of you as such."

Several tears slipped from her eyes, down her cheeks. Not only did she miss her brother, but she also missed Missus Tallmadge. While she had hope that she would one day be reunited with each of them in heaven, her heart still hurt from her earthly loss. Lydia wiped away the tears and inhaled deeply. Then, she told Missus Tallmadge about all that was weighing on her heart.

~*~ April 1768~*~

Ten-year-old Lydia Woodhull ran through the forest. Having lost her cap at some point, her hair was flying every which way, but she did not care. She could have run faster had she not been weighed down by the blankets in her arms. She was on a mission to find Benj. Reverend Tallmadge had come to Whitehall and shared the devastating news with them: Missus Tallmadge had passed. But he also shared that Ben had run off after she died. It seemed very uncharacteristic of Ben to do so and his father hoped that he had run to Whitehall; but he was not there. Although Lydia was certain she knew where he was.

She had followed Ben on occasion into the forest. She knew it was not proper to spy on anyone, let alone a girl spy on a boy, but her curiosity always got the better of her. Lydia knew that Ben liked the trees near the water's edge. She knew he liked to climb those trees to read, was scolded by his father, or needed a respite from his brothers.

The sun was just beginning to set. It would be dark soon. She needed to find him before it got dark. As she approached the water's edge, Lydia gaze went upward. The sun hit her eyes just right and made her sneeze, giving away her position. Thankfully, she managed to see a pair of legs swing upward. Good thing too, because once his legs were no longer dangling, Ben practically disappeared against the branch of the tree.

Taking a few more steps, Lydia looked straight up the tree. "Benj, I know you're up there," she called. No response came. Lydia groaned and shouted his name once more. "Benjamin Tallmadge." Still, no response came.

Not wanting to leave him alone, Lydia threw the blankets over her shoulder and climbed up the tree, careful not to trip over her petticoats. Ben looked quite surprised when she sat down on the branch beside him. Lydia could tell that his eyes were red and puffy from crying. She too had wept bitterly after Reverend Tallmadge had shared the news, but she knew that she had to find Ben to be sure of his well-being.

"What are you doing here, Lydia?" Ben sniffled, wiping his face. Lydia could tell that he was embarrassed to be seen crying in front of her. Not using the nickname he had given her long ago and opting for her Christian name instead gave him away.

Lydia shifted so that her back was against the trunk of the tree. "Your father came to Whitehall. He-he told us about your mother." Ben's face contorted when Lydia mentioned his mother. She sighed. "I'm so sorry, Benj."

Stubbornly, Ben just shook his head and turned his back to her. "Go away, Lydia. I want to be alone right now."

"No, you don't," Lydia responded, sounding quite sure of herself.

Struck by her response, Ben looked at her over his shoulder with an expression of shock on his face. "How would you know what I want, Lydia Woodhull?" Ben spat.

Lydia was initially taken aback by his response, but she knew that was not Ben talking. From what Thomas had told her, grief made people act unlike themselves. So, Lydia stood her ground. "You just lost your mother, Benj. You miss her. A-and I miss her too. I know she wasn't my mother, but she was the closest thing I ever had to a living one. A-and I thought maybe we could miss her together. The last thing you need is to be alone. So, I will stay here all night if I have to. I even brought blankets."

Lydia threw one of the blankets at him, which landed on his head before she draped the other one over her lap. Despite the fact that she felt like crying, she wanted to stay strong for Ben. So, she offered him a small smile.

Ben was shocked by her response as he removed the blanket from his head. To be honest, even Lydia was shocked by the words that came out of her mouth. But she said them and she knew better than to take them back. Ben shook his head. "What will your father think? It wouldn't be proper, Lyddie."

Lydia sat a little taller against the tree trunk. "Father left for York City this morning and Aberdeen thinks I am staying the night with Annie. The only ones who will ever know are in this tree and I think that squirrel can keep a secret."

Ben looked over his shoulder to look at the squirrel at which Lydia was pointing. A small smile touched his face for a moment. The only smile he had managed all day and it was because of Lydia. He glanced at her. Honestly, he did not truly mind that she was there. Ben knew that Lydia loved his mother nearly as much as he did. He sniffled and wiped away a few unshed tears. "Where's your cap?" he asked her.

Lydia chewed her lip and pondered his question for a moment. "I think I lost is near the Smiths place. I had to walk that direction so that people would think I actually went there."

Ben shook his head and draped the blanket around his shoulders. "All for me? Why?"

A blush crept up Lydia's cheeks as tears began to sting her eyes. She was not sure Ben would understand why. But she knew his mother would and that made Lydia miss Missus Tallmadge. Lydia was not sure if Ben's mother had also shared her hopes with him, as she had with Lydia. Of course, it was probably silly to fill a young girl's head with notions of marriage so soon, but Missus Tallmadge had confided to Lydia that she hoped Lydia would marry one of her sons so that she might truly have Lydia for a daughter. Missus Tallmadge even confessed that she hoped it might be Benjamin. But Lydia would not share that with him. Not now.

Instead, Lydia offered, "I did not think you should be alone. I do not want to be alone, but Abraham does not understand. I think we might just understand each other this once."

Ben nodded his head. They stayed together in that tree for the rest of the night, neither one speaking another word to each other, but somehow both being there for the other during their time of need.

~*~ November 1776~*~

When Lydia finished her speech to Missus Tallmadge's grave, she turned to find Abraham spying on her from the trees. Lydia wiped away the tears and turned to look at her brother. "Seems strange," he said. "To be at the grave of one man's mother when you are engaged to another."

"Hold your tongue, Abraham," Lydia countered. "Especially when you do not know the entire truth of the matter."

Abe took a few steps closer'The truth of the matter is that you are engaged to a British officer Lydia, or have you forgotten?" Lydia stood and looked at her brother coldly, biting her tongue to keep from saying too much. "It isn't right, Lydia. To cling to the grave of another man's mother."

Not wanting to deal any further with Abraham, Lydia turned and left the cemetery.

The day following the graveside memorial for Thomas, Lydia scurried about Whitehall trying to grab the necessary supplies for a sewing circle a Missus Browne's house. Missus Browne was the wife of Jeremiah Browne, son of Widow Browne with whom Lydia had her dreaded lessons. They lived in Widow Browne's former house, so Lydia knew the way there quite well. Abraham was going to drop Mary off at Whitehall. From there, Lydia and Mary would walk to Missus Browne's together.

Lydia grabbed some bits of cloth from the desk in her room when she noticed the still unopen letter from Major Andre. Had it been a letter from Benj, she would have opened it and responded immediately. Lydia knew that Ben loathed when people took their time in responding to correspondence. She had learned from him to always be prompt in her return letters, but for some reason, she could not bring herself to even open the letter from Major Andre. It did not seem right. Those letters should not belong to her and yet they were addressed with her name on them.

Not wanting anyone to look at the letter while she was away, Lydia stuffed it once more in her pocket. Honestly, she was worried that Abraham might take a look at it while she was gone and send the news in a report to Ben. While Lydia hoped that Ben would be back in Setauket before the news could reach him, there was still a chance that Ben would not be coming back and things would be even more of a mess than they already were. So it was better that she keep the letter on her person.

Mary called her name from downstairs. Lydia ran downstairs to meet Mary. The two women greeted each other with a hug. Lydia went to the kitchen to grab the basket of turnovers she had prepared for the occasion. The womenfolk loved her apple pastries. Just about the whole town loved them. Sometimes, Lydia felt the only reason she was ever invited to these things was because of her pastries and Mary. Otherwise, she really had very little connection to the womenfolk of Setauket.

They walked outside and to the cart where Abraham sat with young Thomas in the back of the cart. Mary kissed her son's head from where his head poked out from the cart. "Don't give your father too much grief, Thomas," Mary told him.

"We'll be fine. Won't we Sprout?" Abraham said. Lydia refused to meet her brother's gaze. She was still angry at him from the day before. He had no right to say such things to her. Thankfully, he did not stay any longer. He got the horse going and pulled away, headed down the lane.

Mary sighed. "I'm quite thankful for a girls afternoon. I love being a wife and a mother, but I do so look forward to these outings." Lydia smiled at Mary. The two women walked to the end of the lane and turned in the direction of the Browne place. Mary sighed.

"What is it, Mary?" Lydia asked.

"I can hardly believe what your father is doing. It's just wrong, to ask that of the townspeople. To give up their gravestones for the fortification of the barracks. Then again, Hewlett is the one making them do it. It is very good that I got you out of that house."

"Come again?" Lydia asked blinking slowly.

"You didn't know, did you?" Mary winced. "You'll have to keep me in check at the sewing circle. I promise Abraham I would not say anything, but it makes me so angry."

Lydia's mind was swimming. Major Hewlett wanted to unearth the gravestones to protect the barracks. It was indecent. She could hardly believe that her father was going along with Hewlett's plan. Then again, she really should not be all that surprising given how he had intervened in her affairs. Anger burned within Lydia. She had once looked up to her father. But these days, she held more contempt against him than ever before.

"Are you angry with me? Please don't be angry with me," Mary pleaded, resting her hand on Lydia's arm.

"It is not you with whom I am angry, Mary," Lydia stated patting Mary's hand. "I agree that it is completely barbaric and I am angry at my father for his role in the matter, among other matters."

"Like your engagement?" Mary asked. She glanced at Lydia with a sympathetic expression. "I know what it is like to not marry for love, sister. I promise you'll find satisfaction in your role one day. Perhaps not right away, but when you are blessed with your own children, I am sure you will be happy."

Lydia sighed. "Major Andre was not the man my father intended on me entering into an engagement with. He was arranging for my engagement to Colonel Cooke."

Mary's eyes widened. "Is he not the man your father sells to in the city?"

"Aye."

"Is he not Father's age?"

Lydia nodded her head.

Mary's brow furrowed. "Then however did you end up in an engagement with Major Andre?"

"I'll tell you one day, Mary, but for now it is still too raw."

"Understandable," Mary said before squeezed Lydia's arm. "I'm here for you, sister, should you ever need anyone to speak to." Lydia offered her sister-in-law a smile before they changed the topic of conversation the rest of the way to the Browne place.

Lydia felt completely out of place at the sewing circle. It wasn't that she did not know how to sew. No, Lydia could stitch just fine. It was the fact that Mary was the only one who seemed to engage her in any conversation. Mary always had a way of trying to include her, but no matter how hard Lydia tried, she just was not a good fit for these ladies. The only reason she belonged was her station in life, the daughter of the town magistrate and now the fiancee of a British officer. Lydia should have been the most envied lady in town, but she just did not seem to fit with them. Much like it was when she was a child, Lydia found it easier to converse with the menfolk, which the womenfolk...especially the married womenfolk, did not approve.

Lydia sat to Mary's right as the women gathered for the event worked on a quilt for the upcoming wedding of one of the young ladies in Setauket. For a moment, she wondered if some of the women had begun to make a quilt for her engagement to Major Andre. She hoped not. The wedding would never happen.

As Lydia made intricate stitches to the quilt, the women turned their conversation from town gossip to Lydia's engagement...more gossip. "Please, do tell us about your major," Missus Browne said to Lydia.

Lydia knew the only reason they were even speaking with her was that Mary was there and the fact that they wanted to live vicariously through her engagement. A life in York City with a wealthy British major would give her much more luxuries then even the woman of the highest station in Setauket. But Lydia did not say anything. She offered a small smile.

"Is he handsome, Lydia?" Mary asked, attempting to nudge Lydia further into the conversation.

"I suppose so," Lydia mused. For a moment, she stopped sewing and thought of Major Andre. He was very handsome and so kind to her. It was too bad that she could not marry him...for his sake. But he would not want to marry her anyway if he knew the truth of matters.

"Look at her, she can't stop thinking of him," one of the women teased.

Lydia snapped her thoughts back to the sewing circle. She blushed at the teasing before she started to sew once more.

"You'll certainly be well-cared for in York City," Mary said. "But I will miss you sorely, my dear sister."

The women then began to prattle on about all the fine things in York City. Lydia quietly excused herself, claiming that now would be a good time for her pastries. Truthfully, she just could not stand any more talk of John Andre or York City. She wished she could just run away from it all. Instead, she was here, placing pastries on a platter to share with the womenfolk of Setauket.

Lydia took a deep breath before she walked back into the sitting room. The room was dead quiet and Mary looked rather flustered as she attempted a few stitches. Lydia's brow furrowed. Clearly, she had missed something.

"Would anyone like a pastry?" Lydia asked sweetly.

Most of the women ignored her, but Missus Browne said, "After what Mary's just told us, I'm afraid I just lost my appetite."

"What has Mary just told you?" Lydia asked.

"Why only what your father is intent on doing to the town. It's a disgrace!"

The women then erupted into heated discussions about the well-being of Setauket and how could Judge Woodhull be so selfish and demanding of the town. While truthfully, Lydia agreed with the women, she knew to keep her lips sealed on the matter. She could hardly believe that she wished the conversation to turn back to her engagement with John Andre, but sadly, it never did.

That night, Lydia sat in her bed dressed in her shift under the quilts rereading Ben's letters. She read one from his Yale days. They seemed so youthful and innocent then...and much more carefree. Their dreams had seemed so much more within reach back then. With this war going on, Lydia feared the could easily be lost. When she finished one letter, she got up and removed the floorboard to find another.

As she was rifling for another letter, the sound of angry shouts came from outside. Lydia's brow furrowed as she rushed to the window to see what was going on. Men with torches approached Whitehall. There had to be several dozen men out there and while Lydia only caught an occasional glance of their faces from the torchlight, none of them looked happy. Had they come to set fire to Whitehall like whoever had torched Abraham's crop?

Panic began to race through her body. She quickly grabbed the small leather pouch that was hidden between the floorboards at night and in her pocket by day. She could not bear to be without that pouch. Lydia was about to stuff Ben's letters into a small trunk and flee when she heard her father's voice.

"They've come to talk with me. I invited them." He must have been talking down the soldiers who were guarding Whitehall, likely with guns drawn.

Lydia held her breath for a moment, saying a silent prayer that everyone remained calm and that no one was hurt. A knock came at the door. Clutching the leather pouch in her hand, Lydia made her way to the door.

"Who is it?" Lydia whispered.

"Major Hewlett, Miss Woodhull," the major's voice whispered back. "I'm sending one of my men to wake Lieutenant Wakefield. I need you to put on your cloak and go with him."

"P-pardon me?"

"We need to keep you safe. Now, please for your own safety Miss Woodhull, hurry with your cloak and shoes. We will bring you back to Whitehall when all is well once again."

"Where will I go?" Lydia asked.

"There is a room open at Strong Manor. We will send you there for now. Please don't make me ask you again, Miss Woodhull."

Lydia did as she was told. She put her cloak and shoes on, as well as her pockets. Along with the leather pouch, she put as many of Ben's letter that would fit in her pockets as she could before she quietly left her room. Major Hewlett's man was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. As they escaped out the back, Lydia could hear DeJong shouting at her father.

The solider and Lydia mounted Bucephalus, Major Hewlett's horse, and headed for town. Despite how angry she was with her father, she did not wish him dead. So, she said a silent prayer as the wind whipped her face as they sped faster toward town.

Once at Strong Manor, the soldier Lydia rode with led her inside to wake Lieutenant Wakefield, who was currently being billeted at Strong Manor. Anna had the pleasure of billeting more than one officer since her home was so large and she only occupied one room. Lydia was thankful that Anna roused at the noise being made and came downstairs to see what was going on.

Lydia embraced Anna as Wakefield left the house and went to muster the troops. "This wouldn't be about the gravestones, now would it?" Anna asked.

"You know about that?" Lydia asked.

"Aye, it was all the men could talk about this evening in the tavern."

"They're all at my father's."

"The ale probably isn't helping matters," Anna mused.

Lydia shook her head. Anna took a moment to examine Lydia. She could tell that something was bothering Lydia. But she knew better than to push Lydia. "You must be tired," Anna told her friend. "You can share my bed with me, just like we did when we were girls and we can talk about whatever is bothering you in the morning."

After nodding her head in agreement, Lydia followed Anna upstairs. Lydia was practically asleep once her head hit the pillow. She hadn't even stopped to remove her pockets. Despite the fact that Anna already knew, she didn't want to take the chance of losing them. For now, they were safer on her person.

After dreaming of Benj, Lydia awoke to find Anna no longer beside her. The sun was already streaming though the windows. Lydia realised she must have slept longer than she had intended. After stretching, Lydia took a few steps to find a blue ensemble laid out on a chest with a note from Anna saying that she could borrow it. So, Lydia dressed in the borrowed garments before heading downstairs because wearing only a shift and cloak in broad daylight was highly inappropriate.

Downstairs, she found Anna making breakfast. She was frying some meat over the fire.

Lydia apologised, "I'm sorry for sleeping so late. I hadn't intended to do so."

Anna just waved her hand. "You probably needed the sleep, Lyddie. There's nothing to apologise for. You've had a rough go at things recently."

She wanted to say as have you, but instead, she wrung her hands and asked, "Any news from Whitehall?"

Anna nodded her head. "Aye. Lieutenant Wakefield returned to say that all is well, no one was hurt, and that you may return home at any time."

"Did he say anything else?"

"About the gravestones?" Anna asked Lydia arching an eyebrow in her direction. Lydia nodded her head. "Just that your father said that the heads of family must volunteer the stones and as of last night, there were not any volunteers."

Lydia sighed. "I do not see this ending well."

"I concur. I do not envy the task Hewlett has laid before your father, but he put himself in this position." Anna wiped her hands on her apron. "How are you dealing with your predicament?"

"As I said last time, I'm stuck waiting until Ben hopefully comes for my birthday."

Anna poured tea in a cup for Lydia and handed it to her. "He'll understand, Lyddie. He knew the risks of leaving you here the way he did. You both decided it was best this way."

"I know," Lydia sighed. "I just hope I get to explain things to him before Caleb does. But knowing Caleb..."

"He's likely already told Ben." Anna pursed her lips for a moment and shook her head. "I'll keep you and Ben in my prayers."

"Thank you," Lydia muttered. "I know I haven't told you this often, but I appreciate you letting me confide in you."

Anna smiled. "I might not have married Abraham, Lydia. But you're still as good as my sister." Anna reached out and gave Lydia's hand a squeeze. Lydia squeezed back and smiled at Anna. She was so grateful to have both Anna and Mary in her life. They were the only women who somewhat seemed to understand her. She loved them both dearly, but couldn't help but with the circumstances were a bit different for their roles in her life.

The day the stones were to be unearthed came. The weather outside was cold and blustery, much like the town's current relationship with Judge Woodhull. While Lydia had returned home the day before yesterday, she made sure to stay out of her father's way as he attempted to persuade influential families into giving up their stones. He had not had any success in that matter.

As Lydia came downstairs, she found her father nervously pacing the floor. "Good, you're up," he said gruffly. "Get your cloak, I need you to come with me."

Lydia's brow furrowed. He didn't even allow her to question him. Instead, he said, "We need to present a united family front. Come, Lydia."

She was confused by her father's words. What could he possibly need her for? What was he planning? Judging by his expression, now was not the time to question him. She knew better. So she grabbed her cloak and followed him outside. He already had the cart hooked up to the horse. Her father helped her into the cart before he directed the cart toward town.

Once they reached the town, Richard steered the cart in the direction of the former church. Lydia's eyes widened when she saw a large group climbing the hill headed toward the church. The crowd was larger than the few dozens that had unexpectedly arrived at Whitehall the other night. This crowd looked to be nearly the number of every citizen of Setauket. "Father," Lydia gasped, but Judge Woodhull ignored her as he pulled the cart to a halt near the former church.

Wakefield had his saber drawn at the townspeople who just kept drawing closer. Major Hewlett stood beside Appleton on the steps of the former church. Wakefield shouted for the people to step back. The townspeople came to a stop and Judge Woodhull took this as his cue to make his presence known. Lydia watched from just outside the cart as her father placed himself between Wakefield and the people.

Richard looked out at the crowd of people surrounding the former church. Some of them carried pitchforks and sticks, others carried only their angered expressions which could likely kill. Near the back of the crowd, Lydia spotted her brother, Abraham. His expression matched those of the townspeople. He did not like the idea of tearing out a gravestone any more than the rest of Setauket. Lydia had overheard him talking with their father last night to stand up to Major Hewlett and tell him that it couldn't possibly be done. Lydia hoped that for once in his stubborn life, her father listened to Abraham. While Abe rarely had ideas Lydia agreed with, this was one of the rare occasions she did...not that she was going to tell him so.

Lydia chewed her lip as her father began to speak.

"When Major Hewlett first proposed this plan, I was against it," Richard started. There was some noise from the crowd in agreement. "Now, I must disappoint the major yet again," he continued as he turned to look at Major Hewlett.

Hewlett stood there with a stony expression on his face and his hands behind his back. While Lydia knew the major was more bark than bite, this was the coldest she had ever seen him before.

Richard took a deep breath. "I have no stones to give him."

The townspeople seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief and began to whisper amongst themselves. Major Hewlett's expression turned icier. That should have been the end of it, but looking at her father, Lydia knew he wasn't done yet. Her brow furrowed. What more could he possibly have to say on the matter?

"My fault," Richard started once more. "My fault was not in asking too much of you, but too little."

Lydia's brow furrowed even further. What was her father talking about? Asking too little of what? Lydia walked a few steps over to her brother. "What's he talking about?" she asked Abraham.

Abraham shook his head. He hadn't a clue either.

Richard continued. "We have failed to consider what is most important here. Not what we want or what the major wants. But what God wants."

"Did you two talk of this last night?" Lydia whispered to her brother. Once again, Abraham shook his head.

"And what he demands is sacrifice as a test of faith! For faith without works is dead," Richard shouted to the people. Lydia could feel her stomach sinking further and further into her body. Her father wasn't a reverend but he was nearly as devout as one. "Abraham understood this when he brought Isaac to the mountain. And we must follow his example, and offer up that which we hold most dear. That which we would never sacrifice."

Lydia shook her head. She hoped he was not suggesting what she thought he was suggesting, but yet she knew that he was. Glancing around the crowd, Lydia looked for Reverend Tallmadge. She hoped that he might speak up against her father in this matter...a matter she knew she was powerless against him. But if Reverend Tallmadge was there, he never spoke up.

Instead, her father finished with one last biblical comparison. "Just as God sacrificed His only son to save us all." Lydia could hardly believe that her father was comparing them giving up gravestones to God giving up His son and yet, he was.

Richard looked at the people and then back at Major Hewlett. He then began his trek toward the cemetery. He grabbed a shovel from one of the uniformed men near a canon and walked over to Thomas's gravestone.

Lydia gasped and looked at her brother. "Do something," Lydia hissed at him. "Abraham, stop him." She asked her brother despite knowing that he was just as powerless as her in the situation. The Woodhull siblings stood there together as Richard struck the shovel into the ground at the foot of Thomas's stone.

She turned away as her father continued to dig up the gravestone. To her surprise, Abraham wrapped an arm around her to comfort her. Tears slid down Lydia's cheeks. This was wrong. It was wrong to take the stones of those who had gone before them. While Lydia had never outright hated Major Hewlett, seeing the smile on his face changed her position. She hated him. What kind of man would do such a thing?

And if there was one thing her father was good at, it was striking a chord within the people. Soon other men joined join her father to dig up their loved one's stones. Soon, it seemed like each family from the town was donating a stone for the earthworks. Lydia turned away as she watched her father push Thomas's stone to the ground.

"Let's get you home, Lydia," Abraham said, trying to keep from shedding his own tears.

"That place is no longer my home," Lydia whispered. "It is simply the house of my father, it can no longer be called a home after what he has done." Abraham nodded his head knowingly before he led his sister down the hill and back to Whitehall.

That night, Lydia stood near her window dressed in her shift staring out at the stars. It had not been an easy day. No, it had been an emotionally draining one. They all seemed emotionally draining these days. There was only a slight glimmer of hope on her horizon.

In the morning, her father would leave Whitehall for York City, despite the fact they had just returned. And for that Lydia was fine. She had refused to eat supper with him and Major Hewlett that night. She was too angry. She probably would have said something she shouldn't have. So instead, she kept to her room.

God-willing, in two days time, she would see Benjamin. She would be able to feel his embrace once more and tell him all that had transpired. Her heart longed for him desperately and it pained her. A single tear slipped down her cheek as she reached for her pockets. She withdrew the silver pouch and clutched it tightly against her heart as she looked out at the stars. Hopefully, the same stars that he was seeing and thinking of her.

Lydia opened the leather pouch and removed the necklace Benj had given her. It's heart pendant reminding her that her heart was his and his heart was hers. She clutched that heart for just a moment before she placed it on the windowsill. While the necklace was something treasured, it wasn't the greatest treasure in her leather pouch. No, her greatest treasure was a bit smaller. She shook the last of the pouch's contents onto her hand before her hand quickly clutched it tightly.

Bringing her clutched hand to her chest, she quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was watching. Then, Lydia opened her hand to reveal a thin silver band. It shone brightly in the light from the moon. She couldn't help but smile as she placed the ring on the finger to which it belonged. Lydia held her left hand up and examined it in the moonlight, softly smiling. The ring belonged there. It had since June.

Author's Note: You didn't see that coming? Haha. Maybe some of you did. I've been attempting to drop breadcrumbs since the first chapter. Haha. I kept the chapter title becuse I felt it appropriate for how long I've been dying to reveal that bit of information. haha.