New York - The Novel

had expressed great displeasure at the influx of free blacks into their city. But Master was a vestryman of Trinity, and the Trinity vestry had stuck with their former tradition in providing schooling for the black community.
    “I shall be glad to join your party,” Abigail said, with just a hint of reproof.
    It was her father who suggested that Hudson and his wife should accompany the young people. The gathering was only a short distance away, so they all decided to walk there together.
    There was a large crowd. About half of them were black, a sprinkling were civilians from the city, the rest were British officers and their guests. A thousand candles lit the room brightly. Notwithstanding the difficulties of getting food, splendid refreshments had been provided. The band was excellent, and the dancing was conducted in the usual manner, except that the formal opening minuet was dispensed with, nor was anyone in the mood to attempt a French cotillion. Instead the company got straight down to jigs, reels, square and country dances. The tunes were popular and lively: “Sweet Richard,” “Fisher’s Hornpipe,” “Derry Down.” And Abigail was pleased to observe that, lively though the occasion certainly was, everything was done with a charming decorum.
    Hudson was in his element. She realized that, in all her life, she had never seen him perform in such a setting. Several times, she found herself paired with him for a moment or two, as, with a kindly smile, he whirled her round. She caught sight of Albion doing the same with Hudson’s wife. And she of course was often on his arm.
    They all sat down together, Albion and his friends, the Hudsons and two other black couples they had encountered. The conversation was very merry. She complimented Hudson on his dancing, for which he gravely thanked her.
    “And how do I dance, Mrs. Hudson?” Albion cheerfully inquired. She paused, only for a moment.
    “Why, mighty fine … for a man with only one good leg!”
    This was greeted with roars of approval, and laughter.
    “His leg’s good enough to go into action soon,” one of his fellow officers remarked.
    “True,” Albion said with a smile.
    “Oh?” Abigail said. “You are leaving?”
    “Yes,” he confirmed. “I only received the news today, but General Clinton is going to join the forces down in the South, and he is taking me with him. So I may see some action again.”
    “When do you leave?” she asked.
    “At the end of the month, I think.”
    “Come,” cried one of the others. “It’s time to dance again.”
    They all walked back together afterward. It was past midnight. Though the city was under a military curfew—which, for some reason, General Clinton insisted upon—this was relaxed for certain social events. Here and there, street lamps gave them enough light to make their way along. The two Hudsons walked together, she and Albion a little way behind. He had given her his arm.
    “You must try not to get shot again, in the South,” she said. “I cannot undertake to nurse you twice.”
    “I’ll do my best,” he answered. “It’ll probably be very dull. No fighting at all.”
    “Then you’ll have to chase those beautiful Southern girls, instead,” she suggested.
    “Perhaps.” He was silent for a moment. “But where would I ever find another such as you?” he said quietly.
    Her heart missed a beat. The exact words. It had not been a dream, then, after all.
    She wanted to make some easy reply. None came. They continued to walk.
    When they reached the house, Hudson opened the front door and ushered them into the parlor. It was quiet. Obviously, the rest of the household had gone to sleep.
    “I expec’ the gentleman would like a glass of brandy before retirin’,” Hudson said softly. “If you jus’ give me a minute or two.”
    The room was warm. There was still the remains of a fire glowing in the grate. Albion stirred it for a moment. She took off her cloak. He turned.
    “I can’t believe you’re leaving,” she said.
    “I have no wish to do so.” He was gazing at her with an affection that could not be mistaken.
    She looked up at him, her lips parting, as he stepped forward and took her in his arms.
    As the minutes passed, there was no sign of Hudson. She heard only the faint crackle of the fire in the grate as they kissed and, pressing more passionately against each other, kissed again until she would, she knew, have given herself to him there and then, had not the door