355: The Women of Washington's Secret Spy Ring

Chapter 2

 Elizabeth

June, 1776                                                                                                                                                                               

"The Commander of the British army, General Howe, has left Virginia," Elizabeth's husband Jonathan told her as they sat down to dine.

Elizabeth motioned for their maid, Abigail, to serve her more stew. "What does that mean?"

Jonathan sighed and rubbed the graying whiskers on his chin before he answered. "It means he probably has his spyglass set on York Island, if he has any thought to him."

"Why is that?"

He waved toward the window that looked onto the East River. "The ports. The fact that New York is in the middle of the country. If he closes down the harbor, the Continent will suffer greatly."

"Thus the reason for the Yankees' arrival." Since the spring, the city had been filled with soldiers in a rainbow of neutral colors: brown, light gray, buff, and even green. "Food's been hard enough to lay hold of without these New Englanders coming for it." Elizabeth took another swallow of stew. She hadn't had much of an appetite at this time during her other pregnancies, but for some reason she was perpetually hungry with this one.

"Hush, woman. Them New Englanders are the only chance we've got in this Loyalist city. York City didn't come to the aid of Boston, yet here Boston comes to aid us. Makes a man think real hard about where his priorities lie."

"Jonathan," Elizabeth's spoon clattered in the silver bowl. "You can't possibly mean..."

"That's right." He plunked his wineglass down resolutely. "I'm thinking about joining the army."

Fear began to rise in Elizabeth's chest as she contemplated the next few months without Jonathan. She was nearly seven months pregnant. And then there were the other children to think of: Jonathan James, who was almost six, and Catherine, now four. Elizabeth turned her back to her husband while she fed the remaining scraps of bread to her hound dog and thought of a suitable reply. Her brother James had been killed last year during the Siege of Boston. Jonathan was an intensely religious man, and if Elizabeth brought up James's death as an argument, Jonathan would simply tell her that if he were to die in battle, it would be due to God's will. She swallowed back her next rebuttal—that Jonathan was too old. He was nearing fifty, which was how she convinced him not to join the Continental Army along with James when the first shots had been fired at Lexington and Concord over a year ago. She decided to reason with him, a policy that she learned, after eight years of marriage, worked the most often. "Who will take care of the shop?"

"You must." He gestured toward Abigail. "Abby will help with the children, right?"

As Abigail nodded, Elizabeth couldn't stop her mouth from dropping open. Jonathan was of the mindset that women were not to be involved in financial affairs. It did not seem prudent for Elizabeth to remind him of the fact she had no idea of how the shop was run. "And you?"

"If I die, I will have died for a great cause rather than as a coward in my bed."

Elizabeth wanted to say, "A coward that still could have provided for his family," but she realized the futility of it. It had not been a marriage of love—Elizabeth's father had arranged for his daughter to wed the wealthy merchant, Jonathan Burgin, on his deathbed. He wanted to assure that someone would look out for his oldest daughter—a girl of only just sixteen—after he had passed. But, despite her initial reluctance to marry him, admiration had grown out of trust and reliance.