for the future.
Chapter 62
September 1777
New York City
Having seen Major Radcliffe and Captain Denning off, Jocelyn returned to the parlor and sank into the major’s favorite wingchair. Major Andre’s supper would last for several hours at least; these types of gatherings always did. There would be various courses, exquisitely prepared and served with all the pomp Major Andre’s staff could muster, accompanied by countless bottles of wine, then port and cigars in the library. By the time Major Radcliffe and Captain Denning returned, they’d be nearly insensible with drink and fit only for their beds. They’d have sore heads come morning and carry on like bears woken from their winter sleep.
The ground floor was quiet and dim, only the light of Jocelyn’s candle dispelling the shadows of the parlor. Mrs. Johnson had retired directly after taking an early supper, and Private Sykes had gone up to his attic bedroom, glad not to be needed tonight. He had a cold and had been sneezing and blowing his nose all day, and annoying Major Radcliffe so much that he’d dismissed him and told him to take himself somewhere where he wouldn’t have to see him. John had bedded down in the stable so he’d be on hand once the men returned and the horses would need seeing to, so the coast was clear. This was the perfect opportunity to discover something about the impending attack on Washington’s army. From the snatches of conversation Jocelyn had overheard, it would commence in a matter of days, so this was her last chance to alter the course of events, if what she did could be described in such grandiose terms.
Jocelyn stood and reached for the candleholder, her mind made up. She approached Jared’s office first, simply because it was the nearest door, and tried the knob. Locked. She then went across the corridor and tried the major’s study. Also locked. She sighed. It would have been so much simpler if either man had forgotten to lock his door, but she wasn’t that lucky. Jocelyn considered her options. She could either try to pick the lock, which might damage the mechanism and arouse Major Radcliffe’s suspicion, or try to get Mrs. Johnson’s keys off her. The housekeeper always wore the keyring at her waist, only taking it off when she retired and got undressed for bed. Jocelyn had seen the keyring often enough to know which key fit which door. She could find her way inside Mrs. Johnson’s room easily enough under one pretense or another, but she could hardly take the keyring without the older woman noticing. Unless she took just one key, Jocelyn thought, and smiled to herself.
Mrs. Johnson had planned to have a bath after the men had gone, a luxury she permitted herself once a week. Jocelyn had helped her carry several pitchers of hot water into her room in preparation. She’d luxuriate in the tub until the water grew cold, which gave Jocelyn at least another ten minutes in which to remove the key to the major’s office from the keyring. Even if she didn’t return the key in time, Mrs. Johnson wouldn’t notice one key missing as she prepared for bed, and Jocelyn could pretend to have found the key in the corridor, as if it had somehow come off the ring, and hand it to her in the morning. That was about as good a plan as she could hope to come up with.
She stopped by the airing cupboard and took out a clean towel, then knocked on Mrs. Johnson’s door and entered the room, thanking her lucky stars the woman hadn’t locked it. Mrs. Johnson was already in the tub, which was discreetly placed behind a screen.
“Who’s there?” she called, her voice reedy with astonishment that someone would enter her private quarters without being invited.
“Only me, Mrs. J,” Jocelyn replied. “I was just putting away the fresh towels and thought you might need one.”
“I have a towel,” Mrs. Johnson replied. “But thank you all the same, Jocelyn. Just leave it on the bed.”
“Enjoy your bath,” Jocelyn called out as she quickly located the right key and slid it off the keyring. She held the other keys tight so they wouldn’t make a clinking sound and alert Mrs. Johnson to the fact that she was doing anything other than placing a towel on the bed. Jocelyn pocketed the key and left the room, closing the door with enough force to let Mrs. Johnson know she’d gone. Then she returned to